Training Camp

I do not own Crookshanks the cat, Hermione Granger, Viktor Krum, Draco Malfoy, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort/Thomas Marvolo Riddle, Severus Snape, Ronald Weasley, Oliver Wood, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Aurors, or Quidditch. All are the brilliant creations of JK Rowling, all honor and glory upon her name.


Harry Potter slumped against the cool stone wall of the changing room and tried to dump the heat from his exhausted body into the rock. Merlin’s beard, he ached. Every abused muscle in his battered body was screaming its soreness in a chorus of hurt. Even his hair and his fingernails hurt.

*I know I’m always saying that ‘this is the worst pain I’ve ever felt,’* he thought wearily, *but this time I mean it. Not even Wood was this much of a taskmaster.*

“Oi,” a voice called softly. Harry looked up and blinked the sweat out of his eyes. Ron was coming toward him, and for a brief, irrational moment, Harry hated him worse than he’d ever hated Voldemort, Snape, and Malfoy put together. Ron, the rat bastard, didn’t look like he was at death’s door. He didn’t look like his body had been through the wringer. He barely looked winded. He’d already discarded his Quidditch robes and was shirtless and barefoot, clad only in pants.

“Lord and lady, Harry, you look like something Hermione’s cat dragged in,” Ron chuckled, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry groaned. “My gods, why did I think this was a good idea?”

It was early July, scant weeks before Harry’s nineteenth birthday. They had made up their last year at Hogwarts, and, to no one’s surprise, everyone’s relief, and Professor McGonagall’s fortune when she won the betting pool, had finally become lovers. Both had been accepted to the Auror training program and were set to begin in the fall. Faced with the prospect of their last summer holiday before them, Harry and Ron had thought feverishly to try to find something special to do, just the two of them.

Then Ron, damn him to the eleventh ring of hell, had found something called “Quidditch Boot Camp,” and the redheaded lunatic had thought it was absolutely brilliant. And Harry himself, in a moment of sheer insanity, had agreed that it might be fun.

Some fun.

Ron ducked under the arm Harry was using to keep from falling and faced him. “Blimey, Harry, it can’t be that bad!” he smirked.

“It is,” Harry said shortly.

“Oh, come on.” Ron leaned in closer. “You can’t be that tired.”

“I’m telling you: I am.”

“Let’s find out.” Ron reached over and brushed his finger against Harry’s nipple. Even through the Quidditch robe and the shirt underneath, the touch sent a (figurative) jolt of electricity through Harry’s body. His body straightened up and his jaw dropped open—and Ron took advantage of the latter to plant a deep, long kiss on Harry’s mouth.

*What the hell……he* never *gets this forward!* Harry thought in shock.

Ron broke off the kiss almost as soon as he started it, grinning wolfishly. Harry looked around nervously, but Ron said, “Don’t worry; no one’s around. And I told you that you couldn’t be that tired…”

This time when Ron kissed him, Harry responded with enthusiasm, his lips hungrily pressed against Ron’s, his hands buried deep in the redhead’s thick hair. Every nerve in Harry’s body came alive with need, and he answered that need with all the passion and the fire in his being.

Ron broke it off again and murmured, “I think either you’re overdressed, or I’m under. I’m really hoping it’s you.” He reached down and under Harry’s robes, and began to undo his pants. “But I can fix that,” he smiled. Harry was even more shocked as his pants fell to the floor.

Ron said, “Be right back.” He ducked, and the next thing Harry knew, Ron was under his robes with Harry’s dick in his mouth.

Harry nervously looked around, trying to see if anyone was coming. But Ron’s mouth on him felt so *good*, and he was having a hard time standing.

And then, just like that, his dick came out of Ron’s mouth with a loud POP!, and Ron stood up, stripping off his uniform as he did. “Your turn.”

Harry smiled, and dropped to his knees. The instant Ron’s dick was freed from his pants, Harry was on him, sucking, licking his balls, kissing his abs, his hands roaming over Ron’s muscular legs and thick torso.

Ron moaned and ran his fingers through Harry’s black hair, his hands clenching and opening as Harry serviced him. His legs were starting to tremble, and he murmured, “Gotta……down……”

Harry looked up, took Ron out of his mouth, and nodded. Ron eased himself down to the floor, and Harry dove for him again, his mouth all over Ron, his hands reaching underneath Ron’s legs.

Slowly, Harry began to lift those legs, pushing them into the air. He no longer cared if anyone found them together; all he could think of was Ron. His tongue slid over Ron’s body—and found the hole.

“Gah…Harry!!!!” Ron squirmed underneath Harry, his body spasming in pure pleasure. Harry’s tongue swirled around the hole, then plunged in and pulled out again, then in, then out, and Ron gasped each time he was penetrated.

Harry eased up, and Ron let his legs fall to the floor. Almost in an instant, Harry was on top of him, his mouth on Ron’s chest, his neck, his lips. They rolled back and forth, first one on top, then the other, their tongues wrestling back and forth, both of them completely oblivious to the world around them.

Until…

“Are you two having fun?”

Harry and Ron shot to their feet in a second. Standing there, his arms folded, his eyes cold, was Viktor Krum—the organizer of the Quidditch Camp.

“V-Viktor,” Harry began…

“Coach Krum, Herr Potter,” Viktor cut him off. “Have you forgotten?”

“No, sir, but…”

“No ‘but’, Herr Potter.” Krum looked them both up and down. “I believe I asked you a question. Were you two having fun?”

Harry and Ron looked at each other uncertainly.

Viktor sighed. “I guess I will have to find out for myself.” As he started to take off his Quidditch robes, he pulled out his wand. Pointing it at Harry, he said, “Wingardium Leviosa.”

Harry, surprised, began to rise into the air as Viktor tucked his wand back into his now-discarded robes. He stopped after he’d risen about two and a half feet. His equipment was right in front of Viktor’s face—and, to his complete shock, Viktor took him into his mouth.

Emotions warred in Harry’s mind—shock that Viktor was doing this to him, pleasure in the act itself….and more than a bit of guilt.

Viktor was better at this than Ron.

Much better.

Viktor stopped, and said, “Now this is what you should have done, if you were not so careless,” he said. He drew out his wand again and pointed it at the door. “Claustros.”

The door to the locker room shut and locked itself. “The others will have to use the other locker room,” he smiled. “Now…”

He took Harry into his mouth again, and Harry’s head lolled back in pleasure. Viktor had an amazing mouth and tongue, and Harry was loving every minute of it.

A second sensation joined the first—another tongue, this one behind him. It had to be Ron, but Ron had never done anything to him like this…he stole a glance down and saw that Krum was holding Ron’s head in place.

Harry’s knees grew weak; if he’d been standing, they’d have buckled. As it was, his eyes were having trouble focusing and his breath was coming short and ragged. He distantly felt Ron leave his arse, and then Ron was in front of him—no, in front of Victor. Ron was on his knees in front of Victor, sucking Victor while Victor sucked Harry.

Victor glanced down at the redhead, and said, “Weasley. On your hands and knees. Now.”

Ron swallowed, hard, and Harry felt a surge of jealousy. What did Krum think he was doing? Ron was *his* boyfriend!

But Ron obeyed, turning his back on Victor and getting on his hands and knees. Victor lowered Harry back down to the floor with a negligent wave of his hand and turned his attention to Ron. His hands kneaded Ron’s arse cheeks, slapped them. Ron looked back, and Harry caught his eyes. “Scared” didn’t even begin to describe the look in them.

Viktor searched through his robes again, coming up with condoms and a bottle of lube. He glanced at the two younger wizards. “Yes, I did come prepared,” he smirked. “I know you two—perhaps not quite as well as you know each other, but I do know you.”

He unwrapped a condom and rolled it onto his huge dick, then slathered it in lube. He put some more lube in his hand and rubbed it into Ron, then got ready to mount him.

Ron took a deep breath—and then expelled it suddenly when Viktor slapped him on the back! “You must relax, Weasley,” he growled, “or it will hurt more.” He looked at Harry. “Why do you not give him something else to think about?”

Harry understood. He nodded, and moved in front of Ron. He and Ron had been together for over a year; Ron’s mouth was open to accept him almost before he was in position. As Ron began to suck on Harry’s dick, Viktor moved into position.

“Ah….AH!!!!!” Ron yelled as Viktor entered him. He grabbed onto Harry for support, and Harry held him as Viktor began to thrust into him, hard and fast. Ron’s fingers were digging into Harry’s shoulders, and Harry could feel the thrusts through Ron, and his teeth were rattling—what the hell must Ron be feeling?

He was about to find out…

Viktor pulled out of Ron; Ron collapsed onto the floor. His back rose and fell in time with his gasps of exhaustion. Harry reached out a hand to him, but before he’d gotten halfway, Viktor caught his wrist in a meaty grip.

Harry looked up. His gaze locked with Viktor’s. “Up,” the Quidditch star said. “Now.”

Harry scrambled to obey. Viktor spun him around roughly and bent him over a bench. Harry could hear Viktor opening another condom, could feel Viktor spreading lube on him and in him. A surge of fear ran through Harry as Viktor positioned himself behind him—and the fear was replaced by pain as Viktor entered him.

Harry gasped and gritted his teeth, holding the bench for dear life. Viktor pounded into him again and again, the force of each thrust knocking the breath out of him. He didn’t know where Ron was…and then Ron suddenly collapsed next to him in front of the bench.

Harry wasn’t far behind him. As soon as Viktor pulled out of him, Harry’s knees completely buckled; he hit the floor next to Ron. Rolling onto his backside, he leaned into Ron, his arm snaking around the redhead’s shoulders.

Viktor towered over the exhausted Englishmen, his hand furiously jerking his massive dick. It wasn’t long before thick, milky fluid erupted from him to rain down on Harry and Ron, splattering over the two of them.

Harry and Ron looked up at Viktor. “Now,” Viktor rumbled, “you two will get cleaned up, get dressed…and get on your broomsticks. Twenty laps around the pitch, for carelessness. Now.”

Harry and Ron nodded glumly. They slowly climbed to their feet and followed Viktor into the showers.