Of Age

A/N: My first attempt at a smutty fanfiction. This is basically PWP...though I'll scrabble for some reasoning along the way...yeah. It'll be continued if it gets a good response. If not...oh well. You win some, you lose some.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Harry glanced around. The room was dark, impossibly dark. He couldn't see a thing. Lost in the haze of one just waking up, he tossed his head, oblivious to the fact that it was a blindfold that blocked out all light. He tried to thrash. Couldn't. Fixed to his ankles and wrists were heavy, cold, and unyielding chains. They restricted his movement. All he could do, really, was lay there and breathe into the darkness and wonder, why? How?

The feel of fingertips brushing across the bare flesh of his inner thigh made him stiffen. "No!" he yelled.

"It's okay, dear. Everything's fine." a familiar voice whispered to him in the darkness.

He lifted his head, or tried to, his emerald eyes wide as plates behind the blindfold. "M - Mrs. Weasley?" he gasped uncertainly.

"That's right." she said. Her voice was as warm as ever, but there was also something in it Harry had never heard before, something he couldn't quite place. He didn't bother after a second or two -- he was just so relieved it was her and not one of Voldemort's supporters. "That's right, Harry. I've come to help you."

"Good. Can you take the blindfold off, Mrs. Weasley? And...and where are my clothes?" he asked, horribly aware that she could probably see every inch of his body. He jerked against the chains again.

"Silly boys," she tsked. "always in such a rush. Let's see to loosening these restraints, first."

Harry breathed a shaky sigh. He could feel her fingers working at the chains around his ankles. A second later, they weren't so tight. He found he could shift his legs. They felt cramped. Sore. How long had he been in that position, strung out on the mattress like that? "Mrs. Weasley, why...?" he began.

"All in good time, Harry." Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "They're going from youngest to oldest and there isn't much time. I've got to get you prepared."

"Prepared?"

"For what's to come." she replied vaguely. "You're almost a man now, you know. Seventeen. That's a big step."

"What has that got to do with anything?" Harry asked, desperate for answers. He tried to pull his legs up but only got them a little off the bed before encountering the resistance of the chains again. She hadn't removed them. She only loosened them. Why? Unanswered questions swirled through his head.

"Nothing, nothing..."

She was being so unhelpful. It was infuriating. Harry fell silent, deciding to probe his own thoughts for answers. What was the very last thing he remembered before opening his eyes to darkness?

"You're not angry, are you, Harry?"

"No." he muttered, thinking hard.

"You've gone very quiet." she observed.

"I'm just confused," Harry snapped.

"That's natural, dear." she said.

Harry finally realized what was wrong about her voice. She sounded too calm.

"Why is it like this? The last thing I remember..." he mumbled.

"Is everyone singing 'Happy Birthday' to you before you blew out the candles on your cake? Yes, it always goes that way, Harry. Don't worry."

And she curled her fingers around his cock before he could ask anymore questions.

"Wh - what are you doing?" he yelped.

"Helping you relax. You must not let tonight rule you. Life will go on after this, Harry, just the same. The only thing that will stop it from doing that is you. You've got to relax."

He wanted to do as she said. Mrs. Weasley had never steered him wrong in the past. But it was wrong, wasn't it? She was Mr. Weasley's wife. Ron's mother. He couldn't relax with her touching him there. He shook his head. "Mrs. Weasley, please stop!" he gasped as she gave the shaft a few loving squeezes. It started to harden under her care.

"You're much too nervous. Calm down. I'll take care of you, just as I always have." she said.

A pair of full lips closed around the head of his organ. Her tongue flickered over the slatch, where a drop of precum had already started to form. She suckled on him as if it were natural, as if it wasn't wrong. Harry still didn't understand, but suddenly his brain stopped demanding answers so urgently, as all the blood ran from it to his erection.

She stroked his thigh softly, all the while gobbling at his manhood. She had only about two inches of it in her mouth, and Harry couldn't stop himself from bucking up into the fiery heat, sending the remaining four and a half inches in.

She took it like a pro, her throat lax, even though his cock brushed the back of her throat, tempting her gag reflex. She didn't even pause. She just kept sucking on him, her tongue mapping out hot paths across his veined shaft.

He turned his head to the side, face twisted with conflicted emotion. It was the first blow job he had ever gotten. And it was fantastic. He groaned, his need for her not so motherly care increasing. "M - Mrs. Weasley..." he panted.

Her hands dropped between his thighs, caressed his balls. She pulled her head back so that his cock almost popped out of her mouth, before plunging down and taking him fully into her throat once more.

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm going to..." he tried to warn her.

She nibbled on his cockhead in response.

That was all it took for Harry. He let out a loud groan, his penis throbbing, pulsing out load after load of salty seed. Mrs. Weasley took it all. When he his cock had delivered its last spurt, she just kept on licking him, wiping away all evidence of his coming with her tongue.

Finally, she straightened up.

"That was good, dear." she whispered. Reaching over, she combed her fingers through his sweaty hair, brushing a few locks out of his face.

"Oh, dear...don't be hard on yourself." she said, noticing the trails of tears on his face.

Need had overpowered common sense, but now that he had gotten release, he was left with a gross feeling in the pit of his stomach -- regret.

"Mrs. Weasley...that wasn't..."

"Shhh. There's not much time; Ronald will be in in a moment. I've told him to go easy on you, but you know, it'll be his first time as well." Mrs. Weasley explained hurriedly.

He stiffened. "What...?" he asked, not sure if he understood. He stiffened as her hand slid under his thighs. Somehow the older woman managed to lift his lower half clear of the bed. A wand was positioned between his legs. A spell whispered. Harry grimaced, feeling a place he had never dedicated much thought to grow cold and dripping wet.

"That'll make things easier. Try not to hate us, alright, dear?" she asked. She stood up, the bed rising slightly when her weight had lifted.

Harry felt he kiss his brow but said nothing. He felt too sick to talk. Thought he might throw up if he tried.

She left the room without another word, leaving Harry chained and naked, cold and still confused, his tightly closed hole dripping and prepared by the lubrication charm that had been placed on him.

A/N: Comments? Yes please.