Harry was quiet and sombre the whole way to the Occulist's office, barely speaking even as his eyes were tested with various odd magical equipment. The doctor and his assistant both tut-tutted at the state of Harry's prescription, advising him to get the more expensive glasses that would adjust to his changing eyesight as he aged. They would eventually simply physically wear out, but Harry was assured that he would get back the extra investment at least twice over before that happened.

Harry agreed easily to everything, letting the twins suggest other enhancements, like night vision, translation and even a version of the Sneakoscope spell. He took the first two, plus a charm to keep moisture and dirt off, and another that darkened the lenses in bright sunlight. He regretfully decided that any kind of Dark Detecting enhancements would only distract him in the haunted hallways of Headquarters, or a place like Hogwarts, filled with students committing a hundred tiny sins. He asked about things like seeing through invisibility, or walls, but the price tag on those enhancements made him balk, even after seeing his own wealth counted out into a lifetime's worth of coinage.

He spent a strange half hour sitting and watching a blurry world while Fred, George and one of the assistants bickered over frames, eventually giving up and asking Snape what he thought, as he couldn't see well enough to judge for himself. Snape plucked a pair of thin, almost rectangular wire frames off the wall and placed them carefully on Harry's nose. "These, I believe, enhance the best of your features," he said seriously, stepping back to admire the effect.

"He's right," said Fred, shaking his head and grinning.

"How'd we miss those?" said George, slinging a carefully casual arm around his brother's shoulder. Harry could barely see the two of them, reduced to colours and shapes by the lack of lenses in the frames, but there was something, as Snape had said, strangely right about the two of them like that. In each other's space, arms, and lives.

"All right, Mr. Potter?" said the assistant, a perky blonde witch, plucking the delicate-seeming dark silver frames off of Harry's face. When Harry nodded, she added, "I'll just take these back to the lab wizards, then, and we'll have your glasses all charmed and ready for you in a week. Where should we send them?"

"You don't, er, need to fit them or something?" said Harry curiously, putting back on his old glasses with relief. Things weren't nearly so clear as they had been in the Occulists' chair, but it was still far better than nothing.

"Oh, goodness no!" said the witch, surprised. "Everything will self-adjust once they're on. The frames are to be charmed as well, of course."

"Right, of course," said Harry faintly. He sat quietly while Snape paid a seemingly exorbitant amount to yet another attractive young assistant, this one a charming wizard who tried valiantly to flirt despite Snape's utter lack of encouragement, and arranged for delivery via owl to Hogwarts.

"Shall we?" said Fred, holding an arm out for Harry when they were done. "Got to get you proper clothes to go with your new eyes."

Harry stood and hooked his arm through Fred's, feeling a bit girlish until George did the same on the other side. They had to break apart in order to negotiate their way out of the shop, and Harry found himself with a twin on either side once they got outside, with himself sandwiched between them in a manner that brought all sorts of thoughts to his head. He was grateful for them, despite the fact that an erection would make trying on clothes no little embarrassing, because at least they distracted him from thoughts of his parents' money, and Sirius' unread Will.

Snape walked in front of them with unruffled dignity, leading the way to the London Gladrags. As they approached the door, Snape slowed just enough to toss over his shoulder, "Best cease mauling him, or they won't allow you into the changing rooms together."

"Spoilsport," said Fred jovially, stepping up to once again invade Snape's personal space instead. George ruffled Harry's already-mussed hair and let his arm drop, instead putting his hands in his pockets.

Fred shot them a rakish grin as he held the door, bowing mock-courtly to Harry as he passed and doing something to make George jump and glare as he brought up the rear of their motley little group. Snape strode purposefully towards the men's side of the store, leading them to racks of clothing in styles ranging from hopelessly outdated elegance to outlandish absurdity, at least in Harry's eyes.

"I want simple stuff, that'll fit and not make me look like an idiot," said Harry, looking around somewhat hopelessly. He'd never been shopping for clothing, aside from his student robes at Madame Malkin's, and this was nothing at all like that.

"Don't worry, Harry," said George, slinging his arm back over Harry's shoulder. "Me 'n' Fred'll take care of you."

"And I will be here to assure that you neither overspend your budget, nor end up with clothes only suitable for the young and foolish," said Snape, striding over to a chair next to the changing rooms and settling in, obviously intending to oversee the entire proceeding from there.

Fred had already started rummaging among the racks, saying, "What size d'you think he is, George?"

"Dunno, really, he's a lot smaller than us, that's for sure," said George, using the excuse to wrap both large hands around Harry's narrow waist. "Skinny as a rail, in fact."

An attendant chose that moment to glide on over, causing George to jump away guiltily. "I can size him for you," said the stuffy little wizard, holding out his wand. "Come here, my boy, it's quite painless," he demanded, when Harry moved to hide slightly behind George.

"Yes, sir," said Harry, after glancing at Snape for reassurance and receiving a cool nod. He walked into the open space and stood nervously as the attendant cast the spell.

A slight tickle ran over his skin, but it was gone before he could really register it, and the wizard announced solemnly, "He is a W7 short, but I expect he'll have a growth spurt soon, so buy a little big and long. Perhaps as much as a W9 regular?"

"The boy has always been small for his age; he is nearly seventeen now," said Snape disapprovingly.

"Oh! I didn't realize, I'm sorry. Next to these great hulking brutes, I thought you were younger. Yes, perhaps just a W8 short then," he said apologetically, glancing at Fred and George with a slight smile.

Harry was glad that the mussed fringe of his hair hid his scar; for once, he was being treated exactly like any other customer. "I'll need pants, too," he said quietly, before the attendant could get away and descend on a less intimidating group.

"Boxers or y-fronts?" asked the man briskly. Harry tried not to notice the way Fred and George both perked up at that.

"Er, boxers, please," said Harry weakly.

"Colour?" said the man, glancing around the strange little group nervously.

"How about an assortment?" said Harry, desperate to get the attendant away, no matter how necessary the items.

"Fabric?" came the next inevitable question.

"Cotton?" said Harry, running out of ready answers.

"Bring him a couple of silk ones, too," said George with a grin. "He'll like those."

"Of course, sir. Anything else?"

"Er, and socks, too," said Harry. He thought of the awful ones they'd found for Dobby and added quickly, "But just white for those, and a few black. And no singing or anything."

The attendant nodded. "Right. How many of each?"

"I believe a dozen pairs of each will be sufficient. He will also need a few pairs of y-fronts for Quidditch, and some thicker socks for winter," said Snape, coming to Harry's rescue at last. He was happy that Snape had remembered about the discomfort of riding a broom in boxers, which Harry had spent years putting out of his mind whenever possible. He shot Snape a look of gratitude, which Snape acknowledged with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll just get those ready for you and leave you to it, then?" said the attendant, looking as relieved as Harry felt. He walked over to one of the cubicle doors and tapped his wand against it. "You can change in here. If you plan on wearing anything home, just let me know and it'll be added to your bill."

"Thanks," said Harry, happy to have the underwear part of the ordeal over, at any rate.

"Right, let's get you trying things on, then. George, you want to give him a hand?" said Fred, passing a multicoloured pile of fabric off to his brother.

"Come on, Harry," said George, opening the door and motioning Harry into a room that was quite a bit larger than the kiosk it was built into. There were mirrors on all the walls, and Harry hoped fervently that none of them talked as he went in and began stripping.

"Well, Harry, do you want to start with shirts first or..." George trailed off when he turned from setting the clothes down, only to find Harry standing awkwardly in his knickers in the middle of the room, erection straining at the damp front of the too-large pants. "Bloody hell."

Harry blushed. He should've known that he wouldn't measure up once he was out of his clothes, but he hadn't wanted to put off the moment, instead shucking his kit as fast as he could as if he could stay ahead the nervousness. "I know I'm not all--" began Harry miserably, before George interrupted him.

"You're perfect, Harry," he said, voice reverent. "I can't believe you're trusting me 'n' Fred to..."

"Show me the pleasures of the flesh?" said Harry with a somewhat forced grin.

"Touch you," George corrected gently, moving towards him as if mesmerised, clothing forgotten.

Harry allowed himself to be pulled into George's arms, twining his fingers in coarse red hair. He let George lead the kiss, gasping when huge, warm hands caressed his bare back and getting a gentle taste of George's tongue for his troubles. He let himself go boneless and pliant beneath the expert touches, only pulling away when a thumb dragged over his nipple and wrenched a groan from his throat. "Ohgod," he panted softly, leaning his forehead against George's chest. "I'm going to come if you don't stop."

"I want to see you come so badly, Harry," whispered George in his ear, arms wrapping all the way around him and pulling their bodies close until Harry could feel George's thick cock against his belly. "But you deserve so much more than a quick fumble in a changing room."

Harry pulled back, a bit dazed, and nodded. "I want Fred to be here, too," he said shyly. "I don't ever want to come between you."

Fred chose that moment to enter, arms loaded with more clothes. "Oh trust me, Harry, we want you to come between us. And under us, and on top of us..." he trailed off, finally looking up to see Harry nearly naked in his brother's arms. "Bloody hell."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that, giggling until his side hurt as Fred and George looked at him quizzically. "That's just..." he gasped, "what your brother said!"

George dissolved into laughter right along with him, pausing long enough to gasp out an explanation. "Just now... looked up... said, 'Bloody hell.'... Should've seen his face... thought he'd done something wrong!"

Fred looked from one to the other in disbelief, then gave in and laughed himself, sitting in one of the spindly little chairs scattered around the room. "Well, when you two are quite done, there's clothing to be tried on!" he said a little impatiently, when he'd recovered and found them still sniggering.

"Do I get a kiss first?" said Harry, his spirits and confidence considerably raised.

He held a hand out to Fred, who took it with a slightly bemused look. "Does he realize?" he asked George mysteriously before enfolding Harry in a close, warm embrace.

"Apparently not," said George. "Poor Snape."

"I heard that," said a voice through the door. "You'd do well to keep it down in there, it's not soundproofed at all."

Harry would've giggled again had Fred's mouth not descended on his, silencing his laughter with a different demand. He nibbled along Harry's lips, then instead of plunging in as before, he trailed nips and kisses over Harry's jaw and down his neck, ending with a gentle bite right over his collarbone that nearly melted his knees. When Fred released him with a sigh, he immediately went to sit, completely unselfconscious of the goofy grin on his face. "I knew you two'd be good at this," he said dreamily.

"Y'hear that, Snape?" said George, grinning. "You're next!"

"One hopes," Snape replied snarkily. There was a heartbeat of silence before he added, "You do remember that the purpose of this visit is to put clothes on him?"

"Yes, Professor," chorused the twins, equal looks of mischief on their nearly identical faces.

Fred dug a shirt and trousers out of the stack and handed them to Harry, while George eyed Harry's discarded trainers with distaste. "You'll need shoes, too," he said, giving Fred a meaningful glance Harry quickly slithered into the clothing.

"Quit it with the weird silent twin communication," said Harry peevishly, admiring himself in the mirror. The shirt was form-fitting and long-sleeved, and a rather flattering shade of charcoal grey. The trousers were simple and unadorned in lighter grey wool, and the whole thing combined made Harry look a lot closer to his age than his old clothes had. "This isn't bad, eh? Let's show Severus."

"Sorry, we were just wondering if you'd brought enough cash for a whole new wardrobe. We hadn't really thought..." said George, as Harry opened the door and stepped out.

"I assure you, I was quite aware of the state of his clothing when I withdrew from his vault," said Snape smoothly, garnering another grateful smile from Harry.

"What d'you think of this, then?" said Harry, turning. He rather hoped that grey wool would do as much for his arse as it had for Snape's.

"Quite nice, for a start," he said, a small smile blooming as Harry peered coyly over his shoulder, deliberately showing off the anatomy in question.

"Make me look shaggable?" said Harry impishly.

Snape rolled his eyes, the grin widening and ruining his attempt to seem stern. "Evidently, although I can dress you up, I cannot yet let you out in public. Go try on something else."

Harry complied, going through the whole pile and then some, and ending up with what he thought was quite a nice little wardrobe. He had dress robes, normal robes, shirts, trousers, even a fancy suit with a frock coat like Snape's, only less, well, severe. He tended a bit towards red and gold, but that was all right for a Gryffindor, and the twins made sure he had an assortment of other colours to choose from. When they were done, he put on a simple pair of jeans and a close-fitting blue t-shirt that said "Broomstick Expert," and got him a glare from Snape.

The attendant appeared as they were finishing up, sensing somehow that they were about done, and said, "Will you be wearing that home, then?"

"Yes, please," said Harry, his nervousness long gone dissolved by the twins' casual joking and Snape's quiet approval. "I'll need shoes, and socks as well," he added, pointing down to his bare feet.

"Right this way. I'll have the rest of this taken up to the front and totaled for you, Mr., er...?" he trailed off, obviously expecting Harry to give his name.

"Potter," said Harry a bit miserably.

"Mr. Potter, right," said the man briskly, surprising Harry yet again when he didn't ask which Potter, or demand to see the scar or shake his hand. Another attendant, this one obviously junior, appeared to take the stack of 'yes' clothes from Fred, and they all four trooped off to find shoes.

"I'm assuming you'll want another set of trainers?" said the man officiously, obviously disapproving of such lowbrow footwear.

"Yes, please," said Harry meekly, tired of all the fuss.

"And dress shoes, low boots, and a pair of house shoes as well," said Snape from behind him.

"All right, then," said the little man, expression brightening at the list. He glanced off towards the counter, perking up again at the sight of Harry's giant pile of clothing being magically boxed up into neat packages. "Quite the shopping spree, eh, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry, sitting down on the little stool the man brought out.

"Well, let's just see what we've got for you, then," said the attendant, bustling off to the back. He returned with his arms piled high with boxes, and Fred and George rushed to help out. He thanked them and plucked the top box off the pile, showing them to Harry. A pair of simple white trainers nestled in the paper, with red griffins stitched into the sides. "Will these suit?"

"They're ace!" said Harry, grabbing one out to try on. He realized he still had no socks, but the man simply summoned a pair from Harry's pile of purchases and handed them over wordlessly. They fit perfectly, quite the most comfortable shoes Harry had ever worn. "I'll take them. What else?"

There were three more pairs of trainers, but Harry had his heart set on these now, which happily had no bizarre magical enhancements. Evidently the man was at least capable of listening, as the only charms on any of the shoes were self-shining charms on the glossy black dress shoes that Harry chose to go with his robes. He also picked out a pair of old-fashioned boots that matched the suit, and another pair of low, soft boots for casual wear. A pair of self-warming slippers were summoned from the back when Snape reminded him, and they completed the wardrobe switch nicely.

"Will you be taking these things home with your father, then, or shall we deliver?" said the man, a bit unctuously now that he'd seen the total receipt. The pile of Galleons Snape had handed over had been more than the glasses, and quite enough to make Harry cringe.

"He's not my father," said Harry, chest oddly tight.

"Oh! My apologies, I just thought..." the man stammered, blushing slightly.

"Clearly, you did not think, as it is obvious that the boy springs from a much more fortunate lineage," said Snape bitingly, his full Teacher Voice somewhat satisfying when directed at someone who wasn't Harry.

"When he paid, I mean, you've got none of the signs..." said the man a bit desperately, obviously worried that Snape would demand his gold back.

"It's my money, I just asked him to handle it for me. I'm not good with Wizarding money yet," said Harry defensively.

"I am his professor. Not his father, nor his paramour. Please, in the future, refrain from making any more foolish assumptions about the relationships of your clientele, as you are obviously not observant enough to do it correctly," said Snape, eyes flashing. "Have the packages delivered to Hogwarts, care of the Headmaster."

"Yes, sir," said the little attendant miserably, writing up a slip and handing it and the quill nervously to Harry for him to sign. "It'll be there tonight," he added, with a wan smile.

"It had better," said Snape, turning and swooping out in grand style, with Harry and the twins trailing along behind.

"Brilliant!" said George, as soon as the door swung shut behind them. "You're a marvel, Professor."

"You all right, there, Harry?" asked Fred, looking a bit concerned. "I mean, Snape's attractive enough, but I don't know that I'd want to be mistaken for the fruit of his loins."

"We've got other plans for his loins," said George with a wink. Harry nodded, then grinned and pointed at Snape's retreating back. A few more exchanged gestures, and they all took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Professor," said all three of them in an annoyingly cheerful chorus.

Severus harrumphed and forged ahead, not even breaking his stride when a faint explosion came from behind them. Harry giggled and mock-glared at the twins. "You'd better not have ruined my new clothes!"

"Naah," said Fred cheerfully. "Left it in the dressing room." The three boys laughed their way back to the shop, and Harry could have sworn he even heard a single low chuckle drift over Snape's stiff back.

The twins unlocked the shop, leaving the closed sign out even though they still had a few hours of afternoon left. Instead, they headed towards the storeroom, beckoning cheerfully when Harry hung back at the doorway. George gestured for them to follow, saying, "Come on! There's a proper living room upstairs, we can have a nice chat."

"Or a bit of snogging," said Fred with a leer as Snape brushed past him.

"As much as I may regret it," said Snape as they trooped upstairs, "I do not believe that I can participate in any... snogging... in good conscience, while Harry is present as well."

"We're quite willing to separate you two if it'll get us somewhere," said George, an evil glint in his eye as he glanced back at them.

The hallway at the top of the stairs spilled out into a surprisingly large room. There was an open kitchen in back with two stools pulled up to the counter between it and the main room, obviously where Fred and George were accustomed to taking their meals. A large fireplace took up the rest of the wall that the hallway emerged from, and there was a battered couch and two comfortable-looking chairs crowded in front of the worn hearthrug.

"Tea?" asked Fred, wandering towards the kitchen while George flopped down on the couch. "I promise not to spike it."

Suddenly, Harry felt the days' accumulated stresses weighing heavily on him. "Oh Merlin, yes," he said, taking the end of the couch that wasn't currently occupied by George.

"Want to have dinner in as well?" Fred called from the kitchen. "I can start a stew now, if that's the case, and it'll be ready in a few hours. We've bread enough left for four, I think."

Harry, who was quite tired of being out and about, pre-empted whatever Snape had been about to say. "Sounds exquisite."

"As long as there are no unfortunate charms or potions involved," said Snape, glaring at Harry a bit before settling into the chair on the left.

George snaked an arm out and looped it around Harry's waist, pulling him up against his firm body. "Don't mind a bit of a cuddle, do you, Severus?"

Snape glared a bit, "I suppose not," he said, then got a thoughtful look. "How well are you warded?"

"As well as we can, all things considered," said George, as Harry settled himself more comfortably, allowing himself to curl his feet under and snuggle up to the broad chest. George seemed gratified by the contact, running his hand up and down Harry's side, from hip to shoulder and back again in soothing pattern. Harry felt himself growing drowsy from the warmth of it, the safety. Severus was watching over him, and George was holding him, and Fred was puttering about making homey little sounds in the kitchen.

He drifted off to the sound of conversation above him, letting his cares drain away with his consciousness as he fell deeply asleep. He dreamed he was playing chess with Snape in his quarters, only this time Harry had on nothing but his old, loose boxers, and Snape's toes were climbing his thigh possessively. He moaned a bit, spreading them wide, offering himself wantonly to the surprisingly agile touch. A hand on his shoulder shook him, trying to distract him from the lovely way Snape's foot was rubbing against his cock through his pants, and he batted the hand away peevishly.

"Come on, Harry, wake up. It's time for dinner," said Fred's voice, incongruous enough with his dream to make him open his eyes.

His surroundings swam into soft focus, the wood beams of the ceiling weirdly unfamiliar until he realized his head was pillowed on George's thigh. He was lying on his back, legs spread wantonly, cock pressing against his jeans with a painful ache. Fred's face made its way into his field of vision, followed by George, who leaned over and said, "Having a nice dream, were we?"

Harry blushed, sitting up carefully, mindful of his sleep-woozy head. He pulled his untucked shirt down over his lap and glanced over at Snape, who had a completely unreadable expression on his face. Harry's stomach growled loudly, breaking the moment, and he laughed and asked, "Did you say dinner?"

"Yeah. We're going to eat here, if that's all right," said George, ruffling Harry's hair in a disconcertingly brotherly way. He wondered if his nap had reminded them too much of Ron, and the fact that Harry was their little brother's age, too young to be kissing.

"That's fine," he said, trying to pull himself up out of the last vestiges of sleep, catching a remembered snatch of his dream. He glanced over at Snape, catching him staring, and was surprised when the professor blushed slightly and looked away. "Er, did I, y'know, say anything? In my sleep?"

Snape coughed and kept his eyes carefully averted. George laughed, and Fred took pity on him. "You slept quietly for a bit, but once you rolled over and spread your legs, you started saying his name," he said gently, pointing at Snape. "It looked like you were quite enjoying it, whatever he was doing."

Harry's cheeks flamed, remembering the feeling of Snape's foot in his lap from his dream. "Bugger," he said quietly but with feeling. "Er, sorry?" he added a little louder.

"There is nothing to apologise for," said Snape stiffly. "You are not responsible for your subconscious."

"Well, it's not like you didn't know," said Harry with a shrug. He'd get over it, like he did every other embarrassment that the universe seemed determined to subject him to, usually in front of Snape.

"You looked dead sexy, too," said George, after a few moments of silence. Harry's cheeks, which had almost gone back to their normal colour, flamed bright red as he thought about the three men watching him have an erotic dream about Snape.

"Can we never, ever bring this up again, please?" said Harry helplessly. "Along with that other issue," he added for good measure.

"You've not got any worries there, anyway," said Fred with a grin. "We saw you when you were changing, and you've got quite the respectable package."

"We'll show you ours if you show us yours," added George with a leer.

"Please refrain until after I have retired for the evening," said Snape with a put-upon air.

Fred handed Harry a bowl of beef stew and a hunk of bread, then went back to the kitchen, presumably for more. "What d'you mean?" said Harry, taking a deep whiff of the stew, which smelled heavenly to his perpetually starving senses. "I'm staying with you, aren't I?"

"You are, but I have decided, to allow the three of you to spend the latter portion of the evening in privacy, if you wish. I will retire to the Leaky Cauldron after dinner, and expect you no later than ten. The twins have agreed to escort you back, and be responsible for your safety while you are here." He paused, and that flash of something like jealousy passed over his features again before he added, "I believe you will be more comfortable having your first... explorations... here, where there is no chance of interruption."

Harry, while admittedly eager for the chance to have his first proper hands-on lessons with the twins, felt a twinge at the thought of Snape alone for the night. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

Snape looked almost angry at that, his tight features settling on mildly irritated and superior as he said, "I have had more years of practice in keeping myself entertained than you have been alive."

"That doesn't mean it's not hard to be left out of a good shag," said Fred, handing Snape his own bowl of stew. "Our offer still stands, you know."

"I believe Harry is correct in his assertion that it is best if any dalliances were to always include both you and your brother." Snape's voice dropped to a murmur as he added, "Jealousy is a strange beast, and I would not loose it on the two of you."

"You're probably right," said George quietly, after Fred had left to get more food. "I'd hate to miss the first time getting you naked."

"Or the first time Harry came at the touch of another man's hand," said Fred, balancing two bowls this time. He thrust one at George, then sat in the empty chair.

Harry blushed, then realised finally what the jealousy was that he'd been seeing in Snape's eyes. He'd come to Snape a virgin, pretty much untouched, but Snape was handing that precious duty over to Fred and George, unwilling to make Harry wait, even though it wasn't what he himself might have wanted. Harry vowed silently to save something for Snape, leave some part of himself untouched so that he and Severus could have one of his firsts for themselves.

"Quite," said Snape softly, picking at his food.

"I could wait," said Harry suddenly, despite the protest from his still-hard prick.

Snape's head snapped up, and Fred and George both froze. "You will do no such thing," said Snape severely. His tone softened as he continued, "Your entire sexual education should not come from a single source, even if you are determined to decide your future on a single moment of folly."

Harry was baffled for a moment, then understanding dawned. "You're talking about when you kissed me," said Harry, and Snape nodded. "Well, I don't think it's folly, and I'm not deciding just on that one moment, am I? I mean, there's been more, then and since. You've been kind, and funny, as well as all those other things I said before. And your feet are still right sexy." He blushed at the last, remembering his dream.

"His feet?" said George, glancing at Snape's old-fashioned boots.

"They're long an elegant and pale, just like him, and his toes are just..." Harry realized he was acting the girl and shut his mouth with a click.

Fred grinned around a mouthful of stew. "Our Harry's got a few kinks in him already."

"Was that your dream?" asked George, eyes narrowing shrewdly.

Harry blushed further, and nodded. He busied himself with his stew so he wouldn't have to watch them, wishing he could disappear as Fred said, "That's kind of hot, in a weird way."

A glance showed him that Snape, at least, was as embarrassed as he was, and that warmed him enough to say, "I meant it, though. As much as I like and want Fred and George, I'd save all my firsts for you if you'd let me."

Snape's face softened, and he actually sat back and thought over what Harry had said. "I believe," he said gently, after a few tense moments, "that it is enough that you offered."

Fred and George breathed a sigh of relief, which made Harry blush again. "Then I'll stay tonight, so you don't have to listen," he said shyly, then glanced from Fred to George and back again. "If that's still all right?"

"We are so up for it you wouldn't believe," said George with a grin and a nudge.

"I think it would be wisest," said Snape. "And I will make sure to teach you a variety of silencing spells and simple wards as soon as we begin your summer lessons."

That made them all laugh, and the strange tension seemed, if not to break, then at least to stretch enough to allow for the return of their earlier camaraderie. Harry's body began to thrum with a different kind of tension as the meal progressed and the hour of their liaison grew closer. He found himself out of food, and got up to get a glass of milk from the refrigerator, just to give his hands something to do. Snape also seemed to grow more tense, and Harry ached with indecision and longing.

He wanted this badly, his body singing with the need to touch and be touched, and he honestly didn't know if he'd manage to keep his hands off Snape if he didn't take the edge off somehow. But at the same time, despite his easy attraction to the twins and the simple friendship they offered, he deeply regretted that anything they might do would cause Severus any amount of discomfort. By the time the three men had finished up, Harry had tied himself in knots.

Finally, Snape stood, brushing crumbs off his robes with those long-fingered hands that Harry so admired, and Harry came to a decision. He'd take their advice and their offer, and learn what he could from Fred and George, but he'd make sure that Snape knew who was first in his heart before he left. Harry waited for Snape to make his farewells to Fred and George, hanging back in the kitchen and fiddling with the dirty dishes as the three men kissed goodbye with a kind of desperately intense passion.

Just as Snape was about to go, Harry came out and took him into the darkened hallway. He whispered softly, "I know we're not supposed to do this, but I need you to understand that there's a reason it was you I was dreaming of, even with my head in someone else's lap." Then he cupped Snape's face in his hands and drew him down for a kiss, putting everything he felt, all his frustrated longing and newfound caring into it as best he knew how.

Snape stood stiffly at first, but gave in soon enough, opening his mouth with a soft moan of surrender and allowing Harry's tongue to venture inside. Harry knew he wasn't experienced or talented the same way Fred and George were, but he was sincere in his affections, and he hoped it showed. Snape's hands wrapped around Harry's waist, pulling him close until he could feel the heat between them, Snape's cock hard against his belly, his thigh a delicious pressure against Harry's own erection.

When they broke, they were both gasping, and Harry was closer than he'd ever been to coming without actually going over the edge. "I wish it could be you, Severus," he said softly, pulling away with reluctance.

"Knowing that makes it tolerable," said Snape quietly, smoothing a hand over Harry's flushed cheek. "I would stay if I could, but the Headmaster is, as usual, aware of the situation and has given me very specific instructions. I cannot see to this part of your education."

"Meddling old fool," said Harry affectionately, unable to muster up the anger he thought he should feel at being denied his heart's desire. "I suppose he's properly authorised you to hand my cherry over to the twins?"

Snape laughed, deep and low and sexy. "As a matter of fact, yes."

Harry blushed, some of his ardor cooling at the thought of Dumbledore and Snape discussing his future sex life over tea. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"I would be very angry, were I you," said Snape, "but I can only assure you that he does have your best interests at heart. The twins will care for you with gentle humour and great kindness. I am a volatile man, and cruel even when I do not mean to be. Your innocence will do well in their hands, where I might not handle you with the sensitivity you deserve."

"That's..." Harry trailed off. It was bizarre, but strangely touching, that Snape would be concerned enough about Harry's welfare and honest enough with himself to realise that he wasn't right for the task, and willing to hand it to another. "I think I could love you," said Harry at last, chest tight.

"That is exactly what I am afraid of," said Snape wonderingly. There was a long pause, the sound of their breathing loud in the tiny hallway. "But we will be given a chance to find out," he growled, capturing Harry's mouth for a final, punishing kiss. The promise he fed to Harry with lips and tongue and teeth was very clear, and it made Harry's heart race with fear and desire. Snape would have him, someday, and it seemed that Harry had best be prepared when the time came.

It was Harry who broke the kiss this time, body aching from the need to finish. "You'd better stop if you don't want me to come," he ground out, dropping his forehead to Snape's shoulder.

"Do not tempt me further," said Snape roughly, pushing Harry away with a corresponding gentleness. "I will see you in a few hours, during which I will attempt to convince my prick that my hand is as good as yours," he said, eyes glinting in the darkness. "And after tonight, we will speak no more of kissing until you have left school."

Snape's voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper across Harry's taut nerves. He was quivering with the strain of holding himself together, biting his lip to keep from falling on Snape like a ravening beast. "Yes, Severus," he whispered, words like a promise on the night air.

Snape turned and left, his steps receding swiftly down the stairs as Harry struggled to pull himself together.

"All right, Harry?" said Fred's voice from the brightly lit living room.

"Yes, just... just give me a minute, all right?" he answered, pressing his palms and forehead against the cool plaster of the wall. Down, down, down, he chanted in his thoughts, willing himself to become calm, cool, and collected.

When he got himself as close as he thought was humanly possible, given the situation, he squared his shoulders and headed back for the living room. "Right. So, what's first, anyway?" he asked, voice gone slightly breathy at the sight before him.

Fred had shed his shirt and shoes and was straddling George's lap on the couch, the two of them entwined in a kiss like an erotic mirror image, all red hair and freckles, strong hands and wide shoulders. They turned to look at him, lips swollen and eyes bright with lust. "Bedroom," said George huskily, and Fred climbed off his lap and held a hand out to Harry.

"Remember," said Fred gently, pulling Harry back out into the hallway and towards the door on the right, the one that was definitely not the bathroom. "We'll only go as far as you're comfortable with. For now, we thought just hands. Nothing but hands and touching and kissing."

Harry nodded, breath caught in his throat. This was it, he was about to be brought off by another man. Two other men, gorgeous ones, and then they'd let him get them off too, maybe even get a taste if he was lucky, or see one red mouth filled with the other's cock. The tension in him was mounting again, and he said, "At this point, just looking is about to make me come, so I'm pretty much open for anything."

George came up behind him and wrapped him up in an embrace that was swiftly coming to mean safety and caring to Harry, and they all sort of fell through the door into the dim little bedroom. There was a wide, unmade bed, a dresser and wardrobe and some dirty clothing scattered about, and Fred stripping to reveal the freckles on his right hip, the strong curve of his thighs and the way his cock, as large as hinted, curved ever so slightly to the left.

Harry allowed himself to be divested of his clothing as well, mesmerised by his first sight of another naked man. As soon as he was nude himself, he stepped forward, hands itching to feel all that skin. "Is it all right if I touch you?" he asked, not shy precisely but unwilling to do anything at all that might spoil the moment.

Fred laughed, a little strangled, and said, "God, I hope so."

There was a rustle of cloth behind him that Harry ignored in favor running his hands over Fred's chest, finding the hair there coarse and sparse, the skin beneath hot and smooth and everything he'd hoped for. He ran a thumb over one pebbled nipple almost the exact colour of the freckles on the collarbone above it, then bent to taste when his action drew a gasp from Fred. The skin was salty and a bit sweet, and metallic in a way he hadn't thought to expect, with a hint of musk and sweat.

"Come to bed," said George, already on the far side, displaying his nakedness shamelessly. He was as big as Fred in every way, cock straighter even than Harry's, and had freckles on both hips and even across his cobbled abdomen. Harry allowed himself to be guided over to the bed and laid down between them, his hands continuing their exploration, this time on George's body, as though they'd never been interrupted.

Fred curled up behind him, long form pressing skin to Harry's back and legs, better than silk or crisp clean sheets, the best feeling in the world. Harry let his head drop back onto Fred's chest, moved until he could feel the heavy slide of Fred's cock along his cleft. He cupped George's hips in his hands, loving the way they felt, so wide and solid, the points caressing the center of his palms, the hollows perfectly cradling the heels of his hands. Everything warm and warmer, hot where a hand wrapped itself around his cock, where breath blew over his ear.

"Come for us, Harry," said a voice on the edge of his perception, as one red head dipped in to nuzzle at Harry's neck and the other rubbed a cheek against his flushed and sweaty one. The hand stroked him in long, lazy glides of flesh against flesh, pulling the foreskin forward and back, the palm callused and perfect on the sensitive skin. Harry had already been close, so close so many times today, that all it took was a single slide of a thumb over his leaking tip to set the fireworks off in his belly and brain.

He arched against them, shoulders digging into Fred's chest and hips thrusting towards George's thighs, crying out wordlessly as he spilled onto sheets and stomachs and hands. He felt like it went on forever, the hand continuing its gentle stroking until long past the time he would have thought to stop, drawing out pulse after pulse of pure, sweet pleasure. When he came down from the high, he sagged against them both, drawn into a tight embrace between them heedless of their own unfulfilled desire or the wet mess of his spent lust.

He snuggled into them for a drifting time, until the spunk had cooled to uncomfortable rather than sexy and they all began to grow restless for another go, himself included. A quick spell from George, who'd kept his wand on the bedside table, and they were cleaned up and ready for a second round. The wand and Harry's glasses went back on the table, and this time they let Harry set the pace, wordlessly offering themselves up for his curiosity, two bodies so similar and yet, in the most important details, so very different.

They were patient with him as he tasted Fred's freckled hip, and then the other just for comparison. They gasped in appreciation when he shyly explored George's thighs, the crisp hairs that grew damp with sweat and musk as he got close to their juncture, not quite brave enough to send curious fingers back to the secret hidden behind red-furred balls. They kissed what they could reach, each other and him, and finally moaned when he wrapped a tentative hand around a cock, George's this time, not so much thicker than his own but longer by enough to make him blush again.

Fred curled himself up behind Harry, who was kneeling between George's raised knees, his curious hand seeming tiny against the larger body. "Try using both hands," whispered Fred in his ear. George was already beyond speech, merely spreading himself wider in supplication.

Harry did that, fist over fist, hand closing easily over the top of George's cock this way. He slid a thumb through the wetness of precome and was rewarded with a moan and thrust from George. "Now just hold still and let him move through your grip," said Fred in a hot burst of air against Harry's ear. It was followed by the wet swipe of Fred's tongue, and he almost missed it when George began to thrust himself up into Harry's hands, fucking them like a lover.

Harry moaned at that thought, that he had a lover now, two of them, Fred's cock hot where it pressed into the small of his back. "Do you want to do me like that, too?" whispered Fred, barely audible over the chorus of George's moans. His hands began to wander over Harry's body, up his thighs, down his sides, ghosting over nipples and cock but never quite enough to distract him from the solid feel of George in his hands. "Do you want to stroke my cock until I come all over your hands?"

Fred's hips were moving now, too, prick sliding in the little hollow of Harry's back, the base nestling in the top of his cleft. A wet slickness spread over his spine, sweat and excitement, and he moaned softly, higher and breathier than George's deep groans. Harry's hands, too, had grown slick with fluid, and George's hips were moving faster, his balls tightening in a way Harry found fascinating. He'd never paid much attention to the way his own moved, but there was something unbearably erotic in watching George's body visibly react to what Harry was doing to him.

"Or I could just rub myself off right here, my cock so close to your little virgin hole, coat your back with come while you get my brother off," Fred continued, between nibbles on Harry's ear and neck. The words were like oil on a fire, setting Harry's mind ablaze with dirty images and ideas. "I could move so that I'm sliding over it, you know, stroking over your hole, tormenting you with my cock the way you've teased me all day."

Harry bit his lip to keep from whimpering, fists tightening involuntarily on George's cock. George cried out sharply, snapping his hips upwards, and Harry did it again, on purpose this time. He rubbed his thumb over the little slit at the tip, watching the fluid well up, first clear and then a gush of pearly white as George growled and came. The second spurt traveled high, hitting Harry in the cheek where he'd bent over to see, and the rest he deliberately took on his face, enjoying the hot rain of it.

His leaning forward changed the angle of Fred's thrusts as well, exposing his hole to the rasp of crisp hairs and the slide of hot flesh against him. Despite his earlier thoughts and his deep-seated knowledge that he wasn't at all ready for this even if he wasn't saving it, a part of him wanted to beg to be taken, fucked dry just like this, just for the feeling of belonging to someone. "God, you're so perfect," said Fred softly, as Harry lay his sticky cheek down on George's hip, eyes open and staring at the rapidly softening cock.

He'd just stroked someone else off. George. He'd just stroked off George Weasley, was wearing the twin's come on his face, and he was harder than he could ever remember being. He wanted to come himself, wanted to get Fred off, wanted to get George hard again so he could do it all over. Fred's cock changed angles suddenly, making him gasp as Fred leaned in over him, prick nestled between Harry's thighs, the head now nudging at his balls from behind. "Can I come like this, Harry, do you want me to?" he murmured, voice strained in Harry's ear.

"Yes," said Harry softly, his own cock not quite able to rub against anything enough to get him off, too. "Please," he added, as Fred began to slide along him, nudging and stroking things Harry had only recently discovered wanted touching at all. The feeling was so new, so perfectly, blazingly sexual, that he could only gasp and lie there, take it, comforted by George's hand stroking his messy hair, by Fred's now-incoherent stream of dirty words in his ear.

Fred's thrusts became faster, and Harry wished he could see Fred's face, as he had been too distracted to watch George's, too intent on the cock in his hands instead, the first one he'd ever touched that wasn't his own. He buried his face in the musky, damp curls at George's groin to muffle his own high, needy whine, as the words spilling from Fred's lips ignited whole new pathways in his brain.

Fred stilled briefly, his cock pulsing wetly between Harry's legs for a long, hot moment before he gave a few more ragged thrusts and collapsed on top of Harry and George. "That was bloody brilliant," said Fred softly, making Harry grin. He'd been talking so filthily just moments ago, and now he sounded fifteen again, reminding Harry of the years in which they'd been nothing more than friends.

"Don't forget our Harry," said George with a soft, loving smile. "He deserves to get off again for being so accommodating, after all."

"Just let me catch my breath," said Fred, rolling off of them and splaying onto his back on the other side of the bed, feet hanging off the edge.

"How about you watch, and I'll do," said George wickedly, giving Harry a gentle nudge to sit up. Harry complied, still a bit lost in the haze of lust and accomplishment. He'd gotten these two beautiful men off. He, Harry Potter, was responsible for two obviously quite acceptable orgasms, neither of which were his own. He was, he realized as George licked at the come still glistening on his lips, grinning like an idiot.

They shared a messy, bitter-salt kiss, then George got him giggling when he licked the rest of Harry's face clean like a big puppy, all warm and wet and affectionate. Then George scooted them both up the bed, manhandling Harry like he weighed nothing at all until he was sitting in George's lap, the twin's spent cock nestled beneath his arse and his back resting comfortable against the broad chest. "Put your arms around my neck, love, and spread your legs," said George in his ear.

Harry did as he was asked, bringing up his knees and spreading wide, all shame forgotten in the heady rush of actual sex. Fred recovered enough at that to lie across the foot of the bed, head propped on one hand, face intently lustful as his eyes raked over Harry's lithe form like a caress. George's big hands roamed over his whole body, sliding inside his thighs, cupping his cock and balls, teasing at his nipples until he moaned and writhed.

He could feel George growing beneath him, the soft velvet unfolding into hard steel and pressing in the same places Fred's cock had so recently occupied. Fred, too, was starting to recover, slower than his brother, like watching film of a flower blooming in high speed. Harry couldn't take his eyes off it, watching it unfold from small to large in fits and starts, pulse visible in the sway of it.

His own cock was begging for attention now, desperate for the touch of hands that seemed to sense what it wanted, and thus were now staying away. When he made to move his hand down and stroke it himself, George stopped him and said gently, "Trust me, love. Leave your hands where they are."

Harry nodded, settling back, deliberately rubbing his arse over George's stiff prick in a kind of revenge. He was rewarded for his efforts when one of those hands cupped his balls, fingers trailing behind to rub deliberately over the opening that his cock had only grazed in passing. Harry gasped and spread wider, letting his eyes close and head fall back against George's collarbone, drawing his knees up and displaying himself to Fred with eager abandon.

"Lovely," said Fred in response, and George echoed it with a soft, "Mmm," in Harry's ear.

Harry couldn't formulate a response, he only knew that he wanted, desperately, something, anything. His nipples were pinched, one then the other in spikes of pain so slight they were another pleasure, back and forth while that maddening finger rubbed gentle, undemanding circles against his entrance. George's palm caressed his balls in the same slow rhythm, the heel of George's hand pressing against the base of Harry's cock just enough to keep him from getting anywhere close to coming.

"You're torturing me!" said Harry in a needy whimper, rocking his hips back and forth in the valiant hope that his cock would eventually come in contact with something, anything to rub himself off against. He was a mass of need and want, nothing more than tingling nerves and shameless desperation, and he whimpered and moaned and, finally, begged. "Please, George, I need to come. Fred, please, help me, please, I'm so hot, I need it, please!"

"If I never have sex again, I'll have wank material for my entire life just from watching this," said Fred, his voice rough. "And I'm certainly not one to interrupt another man's pleasure."

"George, please, let me come, ohgod, oh please," Harry begged, heedless of anything beyond those tormenting hands and Fred's refusal to help him. The finger on his hole grew firmer, more insistent, pressing instead of caressing, dipping in tiny thrusts instead of circling. "Fuck me, yes, please, anything, just get me off," babbled Harry, his pleas growing more and more desperate.

"Your cherry's safe for tonight," whispered George in his ear, working the fingertip into Harry's body. "I just want to feel how tight you are when you come." Rather than going deeper as Harry expected, he finally left off tormenting Harry's nipples and wrapped that huge hand around Harry's cock instead. Harry thrust himself, first down and then up, finger and fist in a delicious circle of pleasure, spurting all over George's hand as he finally found his release.

"If you're always like this," said Fred, his voice hoarse with lust and shockingly close to Harry's other ear, "then it's a good thing that you're among friends, Harry."

"Trust you," Harry replied, still panting from his climax. "You'd never hurt me. Anyway, Snape'd kill you."

The twins both snickered at that, and Harry opened his eyes to see the joy and affection shining in Fred's face. He turned enough to find an answering light in George's eyes, and then planted a kiss on Fred's laughing mouth. He'd had a lot of hands and pricks tonight, but not nearly enough of kissing, and he thought he might manage to get hard a third time just from this, the sweet slide of tongues, the insistent press of George's erection against his arse and Fred's cock pushing into the soft flesh of his stomach.

George's mouth joined with theirs in a messy three-way tangle of tongues and spit and lips and teeth, completely pornographic in the best possible way. They all gasped when George's hand wrapped itself around Fred's prick and began a gentle motion that Harry echoed with a slow rocking of his own hips against George's cock. They all moaned, still passing kisses from mouth to mouth, hands caressing over skin heedless of who it belonged to.

Harry caressed Fred's side, sliding down until he reached the smoothness of his own thigh, the skin there somehow finer and tighter, but less satisfying to his hand. He went instead to touching George's thigh, his arm, Fred's nipples and navel, all the little dips and hollows of his chest and shoulders. They grew intent on one another, kissing desperately over Harry, their hands staying more and more on each other until Harry felt like a strange voyeur.

He slid sideways, suppressing a shiver as he left the cocoon of warmth and comfort they'd held him in, and just sat and watched. Their cocks came together, aligning as each wrapped a fist around both thick lengths, hips moving in easy rhythm that bespoke long familiarity. Their motions, their kisses, every gesture showed the affection they held for each other, and Harry suddenly understood Snape's earlier words: there could be no wrong where love was so perfectly right.

Feeling a bit like an intruder but unable to resist the temptation, Harry ran a gentle hand down Fred's sweat-slicked side, leaned in and ran a trail of kisses over George's silently moving jaw. They were panting, breath harsh in the silence of the room, and the poetry of hips and hands was obviously reaching its climax. Harry ran a curious finger over the tip of first one cock then the other, garnering a pair of low moans for his trouble. Then he leaned back on his heels as everything sped up, content for the opportunity to simply see.

George threw his head back first, face transported from its usual cheerful grin into beautiful ecstasy, red hair darkened to tarnished copper with the sweat of his exertions. "Fred!" he cried quietly, a hitching, gasping cry, as his seed spilled over them, splattering their chests with shining white.

"George," Fred moaned, low in his throat, leaning his forehead on his brother's shoulder. His hips jerked, his hand spasming closed and his own seed pulsing out thick and wet over their fists. He, too, was transformed by his pleasure, face filled with the light of love and pure, simple joy.

They sat there, panting and totally absorbed in each other, while Harry fisted his own cock thoughtfully. He wasn't quite all the way hard, nor anything like as needy as he'd been earlier, and he blushed now at the thought of himself like that, spread and wanton in George's lap, begging for him or Fred or really any random passerby to get him off. Given that he had, not once but twice, been quite willing to allow just about anything once they'd gotten him hot enough, he felt suddenly very lucky.

He wondered if something very much like that had happened to Snape, although he couldn't begin to imagine the reserved Potions master acting half so abandoned. He was distracted from his musings when Fred's voice said amusingly, "What have we here?"

Harry looked up to find them still entwined, heads together, equal looks of lust and mischief on their faces. Like this they were nearly identical, mussed and well-loved, sweat and come slick on their freckled bodies making them seem magical incubi, creatures created for only this one purpose. His hand moved faster, stroking himself, cheeks flushing with desire and a vague sense that it wasn't quite kosher to be doing this in front of one's lovers on the first go but not quite caring as the passion built slowly in his gut.

He could always get a lecture from Snape later for his terrible breach of etiquette, he thought with a strange dark humour. "You two are perfect together," he said, licking lips still faintly tangy with George's seed.

"You're like porcelain," said Fred softly, in that same low growl he'd used earlier. "Every line a work of art, your thighs and hips, arms and chest, your Seeker's hands and your sweet innocent mouth that just begs to be shown the path of sin."

Harry moaned, and George nibbled idly on Fred's ear, his eyes going dark and wicked as he picked up the thread. "Your cock fits in my hand like it was meant to be there, and your arse is the temptation that no saint could resist, tight and perfect and just begging to be defiled."

Harry's hand sped up at this, cheeks burning impossibly hotter at the thought that they'd seen him begging like that, pleading to be fucked. "Your little hole is pink and wrinkled and perfect, just the place for a tongue or a finger to linger for hours until you're crying out for mercy, for fucking, for anything at all," said Fred, hands smoothing up and down his brother's flank as he spoke.

"You enjoyed him watching, didn't you?" asked George, pausing for a slow, hot kiss before he continued. "You loved knowing that someone could see you being the slut, see you giving it all up for the sake of a few moments' pleasure. You loved showing yourself off to my brother, making him all hot and bothered."

"Yesss," hissed Harry, feeling that telltale tingle around the edges. He felt like a slut, just then, hungry for cock, in his arse, his mouth, his hand, hungry for spunk and spit and hot, wet kisses. "But you took care of me."

"One of these days, you'll learn to take us all the way down, suck our cocks, one and the other until your belly is full of spunk and you can't remember who you've done last or why it matters," said Fred, gasping when his brother bit his neck, leaving a livid pink mark.

"Or you'll feed us your cock, instead, twin mouths fighting over the chance to take you down, to drink your sweet seed," said George, licking their come off his hand with deliberate relish.

Harry moaned, their words propelling him faster than his hand could ever have done on a third round, making his toes tingle and his hair stand on end. His skin felt electric, taut and vibrating with need. "So close," he whimpered, watching the twins in another of those soul-sharing kisses.

Suddenly, they turned and pounced, one on either side and two deft hands closing over his cock and balls, Fred's fingers teasing down between his legs as George took over stroking him. "Someday it'll be Severus here instead of us, sliding those long, thin fingers over your cock and whispering things in your ear you never though you'd hear come out of that elegant mouth," whispered Fred, breath hot on his ear.

"Someday soon it'll be us with Severus, hands that've touched you will get to touch him, feel his skin, stroke his cock, finger his arse," said George, and Harry's whole body tensed up, waiting for something.

"Maybe, someday, we'll all three get to fuck you, one after the other until you can't remember your own name let alone whose cock is in you, you're so used and spent," said Fred, finger sliding to the first knuckle in Harry's grasping hole. The unexpected pleasure of it, combined with the image of them all three taking him, sent Harry over the edge. He came one last time, a wash of shining pleasure and few halfhearted spurts wringing him out until he was limp and exhausted.

"I think he likes that idea," said George, voice filled with amusement, desire and soft affection.

"I think he likes my finger in his arse," said Fred, wriggling the digit in question and wrenching a moan out of Harry. "See?"

"I think I like it all," said Harry weakly, leaning his head on George's chest and resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at Fred's grinning face. "And I also think I need a shower."

George took a glance at the clock and grimaced. "No time, we've been at this for over two hours already. How about a cleaning charm and a bath when you get back?"

"Will it get me more kissing?" said Harry, giving all appearance of serious thought.

George and Fred both grinned. "Imp," said Fred, leaning in to bestow the first of the requested kisses.

George cast cleaning charms on all of them, then took over Harry's mouth so Fred could sort out their clothes. Once Fred was dressed, he went back to kissing Harry so George could clothe himself, and then they both put on Harry's shirt and trousers like he was a child, ending with his glasses. Neither of them would admit to having any idea where his old, worn pants had got to, so Harry discovered the joy of going commando in jeans when your prick was feeling extremely sensitive.

The kissing, he felt, more than made up for the uncomfortable walk.

A Question of Etiquette VII: Exploration and Revelation