Usual disclaiming sort of stuff, I don’t know McFly or Daniel Radcliffe, I don’t know their sexualities, this story is not in any way based on real life events. Harry Potter, Hogwarts and all related miscellania are creations of JK Rowling, and licenced on film to Warner Brothers. I am in no way connected with Warner Brothers or the film Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

Harry sat at the back of the cinema, his face thankfully hidden by the darkness. He rather missed the days when he was just another teenager that the old people studiously avoided, fame had its price, and that price was loss of privacy. Sure, it was fun going to premieres, but when the rest of the band didn’t want to see the movie… well, he wasn’t going to insist on their coming, but invites were to McFly, not Harry Judd. Thus, here he was, the local cinema, on his own, watching the new Harry Potter movie.

It was just before ten thirty when he got back home, coughing a bit from the cold night air before slumping on the sofa to watch QI, but even the antics of Stephen Fry and Alan Davies winning the Cuttlefish Prize wasn’t enough to calm his mind. It wasn’t fright or anything – Dougie would probably have shit his pants, though – but just… well, it was probably better now they were (roughly) sixteen and (nearly) legal – he’d felt a right pervert after Prisoner of Azkaban – but… still it didn’t quite seem right.

It just felt right.

It really rather annoyed him that the others hadn’t wanted to go to the premiere – he’d wanted to meet the stars and maybe… no. That was wrong. Lindsay Lohan was one thing – she was legal.

He had noticed something rather odd – Ron reminded him oddly of Danny. It was the hairstyle, he decided. Or maybe the air of slight gormlessness. It was hard to be sure.

Sighing, he turned off the TV, throwing the remote onto the other chair, where it bounced off the cushion and onto the floor the other side. Bah, he’d leave Danny to pick it up. He made his way to the bathroom, searching for his toothbrush among the armada of Danny’s personal hygiene products. He eventually found it, lying under an overturned (and leaking) bottle of “E45 Facial Enriching Day Cream”. That, of course, was the downside of sharing a bathroom with Danny, and why they’d drawn straws to decide who lived with who, though he suspected Tom had fixed it so he was with Dougie.

He cleaned his teeth using Danny’s toothbrush, leaving it head-down in an open pot of Oil of Olay, and retreated to his bedroom, safe in the welcoming posters of various busty women from FHM. All happily legal. But tonight… maybe, just once… that wouldn’t make him an especially bad guy… would it? His fingers were already undoing his buttons, his shirt coming off in short order, followed by his trousers slipping down his legs by the time he’d made up his mind. After all, what’s the shame in one small fantasy?

Harry stood outside the fifth floor bathroom, tightening the cord on his Hufflepuff-crested black bathrobe. He knew he technically shouldn’t use the bathroom, since he wasn’t a prefect, but since he was friends with the head boy, he figured it was allowable. Besides, if they’d really cared, you wouldn’t be able to get in without a prefect badge. Fact was, there wasn’t any other bathroom in the entire castle that was fit for swimming, and he preferred not to go near the black lake. Not since he fell in on his way to the castle in his first year.

Swiftly glancing each direction, he pushed the door open and dashed inside, the door shutting behind him with a click. The air was already steamy, and he heard splashing. Someone else? He ducked behind a pillar, peeking out to see Moaning Myrtle disappear down a drain, and… Harry Potter? Well, it figured, since he was a friend of the Weasley twins, and they probably knew the school better than Dumbledore himself did. Well, maybe not Dumbledore, but definitely Filch.

Harry watched for a bit, while Potter swam a few lengths of the bath, his white ass teasingly bare in the foam. He shuffled forward a bit to get a better look, shedding his own robe. He rather wished the swimmer would start doing back stroke, but no such luck. Screw it. He stepped out of the shadows and slid silently into the water. The first Potter knew of him was when he was suddenly pulled underwater. He swam away a bit, watching the famous Harry spluttering.

“Hey!”

“Hi,” Harry replied with a huge grin. “Mind if I join you?”

“Gah, do I have a choice?”

“No.”

Harry swam off again, leaving Potter in the middle of the pool. He had to admit, he looked rather nice without glasses. He knew Potter was from the muggle world – he was too, after a fashion. He also knew that muggles had invented contact lenses, and wondered why the hell Potter didn’t get any.

They swam around for a while, always on opposite sides of the pool, then Harry stopped and Potter came up beside him. They sat on the underwater ledge for a while, before Harry finally spoke.

“You know… the triwizard tournament is very dangerous… would be an awful shame for you to die… a virgin.” He pressed himself against the struggling fourth year, ignoring his complaints, biting at his neck. Without wands, the younger boy didn’t have a hope. He may even enjoy it, Harry thought to himself. The soft foam made the younger boy slippery, more fun. “Relax,” he whispered, biting at an earlobe. Maybe a scar or two, but heck, who’d notice. The bow-leggedness would just look like his normal swagger. Normal water isn’t exactly great lube, but with the amount of bubble bath and whatever other magic went into the water, Harry slid in quite easily. Felt loose actually – maybe Potter wasn’t a virgin after all.

“You know,” he grunted between thrusts, “Some of us just hate you. Some of us hate you but think you’re fucking hot too.”

Harry came, the white spunk shooting up and covering his bare chest. He sighed, and pulled a tissue from the box. Just a one-off.