Date: Mon, 24 Nov 2008 00:03:44 +0000 From: Mister Fish <fishnifty@googlemail.com> Subject: Colin's Picture Service - part one WARNING: This a work of fiction. This story depicts sexual situations between fictional minors. It may be illegal for you to read this. DISCLAIMER: This is written in British English. I did not create, do not own, and assert no rights towards Harry Potter (J. K. Rowling/Bloomsbury/Scholastic/Warner Bros). No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement or defamation is intended. ### COLIN'S PICTURE SERVICE By Mister Fish (Part One) ### Most fourteen year olds worried about whether or not people would find them attractive, but Harry "The Boy Who Lived" Potter didn't have that problem. Rather, he had the exact opposite - with the second task of the Triwizard Tournament just completed, he was more popular than ever. Everyone looked at him everywhere he went, people tried to talk to him, or shake his hand or kiss him, there were always photos being taken and articles being written, scrutinising every action. He hated every minute of it. Trying to find a place to wank when you lived in a room with five other guys was nowhere near as hard as finding a place to yourself when it seemed the entire world was watching. Thank god for Cedric Diggory and the password to the prefects bathroom -- except Harry was resolutely not thinking about that right now. He was sat in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by his friends and housemates, and the last thing he needed was to spring another boner. He was still getting ribbed about Rita Skeeter's "Task Hard For Champion" headline. It was right after the task, just as he had come out of the water. He had been carrying Ron Weasley, which wasn't an easy task, given the other boy was taller, stronger, and heavier than him. And also, at the time, soaking wet in clinging robes that left nothing to the imagination, and certainly not to Harry's, who had been rather too taken with the thick length the robes revealed between his best friend's legs. Exhausted from the task, he hadn't realised his own clothes were just as clinging, until there was laughter and camera flashes and a blushing Neville had mumbled "nice tent, mate". Harry mentally slapped himself. Thinking about Ron was just plain wrong. Not only was it bad to perv on guys, and especially on your best friend, but Harry knew Ron would never talk to him again if he found out. One time they had come back to the dorm early and stumbled in on Dean and Seamus together in bed. Harry and Ron hadn't really seen anything, and they'd left quick before the other boys noticed them, but afterwards Ron had been really vocal about 'poofs' and how he "liked girls, weren't girls hot, look at Lavender, or even Hermione, if you liked that sort of OW stop hitting me Hermione!" No, Ron couldn't learn about Harry. Not about the bathroom, and certainly not that sometimes, late at night, Harry pretended it was Ron's big hand wrapped tight around his own precome slick cock. There was a loud laugh as Ron won another round of exploding slap, and he turned his head through the smoke to throw Harry a beatific grin. Harry smiled back, cursing the other boy's rugged good looks, his thick red hair all grown out like a rock star, that sprinkle of freckles across Ron's nose that Harry longed to lick. Fortunately Ron had turned away without noticing Harry was staring, a slight flush in his cheeks, and Harry forced himself to think about Snape for a bit. Eugh! "Hello, Harry!" said Colin Creevey, a cherry-lipped, mop- headed third year, pushing his way onto the couch next to Harry. Colin's ever present camera was hanging around his neck and his leg, Harry noted, was casually pressed against Harry's own. "Colin," sighed Harry, pointedly moving away, and hoping the younger boy would get a hint. Colin had been slavishly fanboying him for three years, like a mini-precursor of the media slavering outside. He glared when Colin just moved back towards him, so they were touching again. "I've got some new photos I thought you might want to see," Colin said, leaning in so he could speak quietly and still be heard over the noise of the people all around them. "Maybe later," Harry tried, pushing at Colin a little. Colin still didn't take the hint, leaning into Harry more, holding out a small black rectangle. "I'm sure you'll want to see these before anyone else does, though," Colin said. "Go on." Harry, knowing the boy wouldn't give up - stupid Gryffindors! - sighed and took the photo, shivering a little when Colin deliberately stroked Harry's fingers before letting go. "It's very," nice, Harry started to say automatically as he turned the rectangle over, and then his blood turned to ice in his veins and suddenly Colin's cute little smile seemed the devil's own grimace. It was a wizards photo, moving. In it, a hand stroked across a younger chest and artfully pinched a nipple, before the sequence repeated all over. The photo was cropped so there were no heads, but both boys in the picture were still half wearing their clothes, the younger marked with Gryffindor red, the elder with Hufflepuff yellow. In the background, you could just about make out the mermaid covered walls of the prefects bathroom. "H-how--" Harry gasped. Colin wriggled closer against him, his lips right next to Harry's ear, and if Harry's heart hadn't already stopped it would have when Colin asked "how did I get photos of you and Cedric fucking like dogs in heat? That's my little secret. And this," he added, tapping the photo, "is ours. For now?" "Wh-what," Harry stammered. He swallowed. Gryffindor, damn it. "What do you want?" "What do you want?" Colin countered. "Do you want me to show these around? I bet Ron would like a look. I know half the girls would." Harry started to tear the photo, but Colin just laughed. "There are more," Harry realised. "You've got to give them to me." "Mayyyybe," said Colin, drawing the word out. And then suddenly he was moving away from Harry with a cheerful, "hey, Ron! Good game!" "Er, yeah," said Ron, looking at Colin askance. "Thanks?" "See you later," Colin said to Harry and was up off the chair and half-way across the room before Harry could even think to call him back. "What was all that about?" Ron asked, suspiciously. Harry quickly shoved the half-torn photo into his pocket and attempted a smile. "Just Colin being Colin." Ron chuckled. "Yeah, he's a right one, that kid. Come play with me, I've beaten everyone else." "Sure," said Harry and then, before he could stop himself, "I'm really glad you're talking to me again, Ron." Ron beamed back. "Me too, Harry," he said, and Harry's heart skipped a beat again, happily this time. "Me too." A warm rush suffused Harry, especially when Ron slung a casual arm over his shoulder, but it didn't last long. Across the room, Colin and his younger brother Dennis were squeezed together in an arm-chair, giggling conspiratorially - and just as Harry looked over, they both glanced back and smiled at him. Colin even winked! Feeling the photo burn in his pocket, Harry deliberately looked away and tried hard to pretend an interest in combusting cards. ### After everybody else had turned in for bed, Harry sat up on his own, curtains drawn and warded so neither sound nor light could get through them. Dressed in his pyjamas, feet tucked under the covers for warmth, he examined the photo again. A whispered reparo fixed the tear and he watched as, over and over, Cedric's hand stroked his chest and tweaked his nipple. How had Colin gotten it? Only prefects could get into the bathroom. Harry hadn't seen anything that could have been a camera, and he had gotten very good at spotting them. Being extremely paranoid about media or evil wizards had its upsides when it came to making sure people didn't find out that the Boy Who Lived was a comfortable (if extremely private) bisexual who, on occasion, liked to get a good rodgering from a handsome champion. There was nothing wrong with that, he knew, but lots of other people would think there was - especially when Cedric was four years older than him. Cedric hadn't been taking advantage, though. In fact, it had sort of happened by accident the first time. Cedric had been showing him how the egg sounded underwater, only it had slipped from his grasp and, as the two of them tried to get it back, they had ended up messily entwined, laughing and breathless. Until Harry had moved wrong and realised that (a) he was hard and (b) his erection was rubbing against a much larger one, and Cedric had looked down, and Harry had looked up, and there had been a significant pause. "Happens to everyone," Cedric had said. "Hormones," Harry agreed. "Puberty. No harm, no foul." "Right," said Cedric. Neither of them moved apart. "You, um. You know. If we're, you know. Helping each other out anyway." "Right," said Harry, hips moving a little. "I mean, it's only fair, right?" "Right," gasped Cedric, humping back, and soon they were rutting against each other, Harry shooting when Cedric slid a finger into him, Cedric spraying when Harry squeezed his balls. Afterwards, they had both agreed it was a one-time only thing, and then neither had started getting dressed, until Harry had suggested that going again would still count as part of the first time. And since he had said first, Cedric said that meant there had to be a second, and somehow it had turned into a whole thing where two or three times a week, they both told their friends they were going off to practice their wandwork and instead they slipped into the bathroom and then Cedric slipped into Harry. Thinking about it now, Harry looked down to note, without surprise, that his cock was pushing his pyjamas up and there was a small wet spot where its head was rubbing against the cloth. Stupid body. He really needed to be thinking about what to do about Colin. He really needed to get those photos, whatever they showed. Especially if they had his face on it, or Cedric, who always panted and threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut when he was about to come. Maybe there would be a photo of his own face - Harry wondered what he looked like. Colin knew now. Colin probably wanked over that exact picture, and now Harry was wondering what Colin looked like when he came, if the boy was old enough to shoot. He probably had a tiny dick, Harry thought viciously, but that just made him think about Ron's, which he was sure was huge, and what Ron would look like when he came and he couldn't help his hand dropping into his lap, to squeeze his own steel hard four and a half inches. Biting his lip, he dropped the photo on the bed and wriggled down the bed a little. One hand slipped under his pyjamas to wrap around his slim cock and start to pump, his foreskin sliding over the plum head. The other fumbled in his side- draw to pull out the latest sock. Harry knew it was kinda strange, but one time after a particularly strenuous Quidditch practice with Ron, he had pinched one of his friends sweaty socks. He had never come harder than with it wrapped around his boner as he pumped away and, ever since, whenever Ron dumped his clothes in the laundry, Harry always made sure to steal one, slipping the used one in to the wash in its place. Now, he dropped his hand from his cock to his balls, rolling them and squeezing them as he wriggled out of his pyjama bottoms. The brush of cool air felt good on his flushed cock, but he was too eager to wait. Pulling his foreskin back, he slipped Ron's sock over the head of his cock and pulled it down, biting off a gasp as the rough material sent a rush of heat racing through him. One hand still playing with his balls or dropping down to rub at his hole, he pumped the sock over his cock with the other, imagining Ron's sweat rubbing him, imagining Ron rubbing him. Sometimes it was Cedric, sometimes even Colin, but mostly it was big, beautiful Ron, and Harry stroked himself harder and faster, adding little corkscrew motions, imagining sweaty, naked Ron touching him and kissing him and sucking him, Ron's thick cock filling out his mouth or, and Harry pushed a finger into himself, Ron's thick cock stretching Harry's arse, coming inside him - and Harry's hips came off the bed and he bit off a strangled yell as he balls drew up and his cock swelled and he soaked Ron's sock with spurt after spurt of his creamy boy come. Panting happily, Harry had just enough thought left to pull his blankets up over him before he fell into a deep and restful sleep. ### His morning was anything but restful. He'd forgotten to take the wards down, which meant the first he knew about it being morning was Ron pulling his bed curtains open to see what he was doing. Harry yanked his blankets up and floundered around until he found his glasses. There was, he thought, an odd look on Ron's face but, by the time he had his glasses on and could see properly, it was just a grin. "Get a move on, mate," Ron said. "I'll save you breakfast - unless I eat it all first." "Bugger off," Harry said, cheerfully enough, and Ron flipped him off in a friendly way before bounding across the room to put Neville in a headlock. Harry pulled the curtains close again, and then his covers back, grimacing when he realised he'd kept the sock on. He winced a little as he peeled it away from the head of his cock and went to put it back in the draw - only to realise the photo was still out as well. Out and on top of his covers. Which meant Ron could have seen it. "Fuck," said Harry forcefully. Ron hadn't said anything, though. Maybe he was okay. But there had been that look. But Harry hadn't seen it clearly. But the photo was right out there. Maybe Ron had thought it was girls? What would Harry say if Ron asked? What if Ron asked to look, what then? Fretting, Harry quickly got out of bed, retrieving his wand. With one last look at the photo, he tapped it. An incendio later and it was nothing but ashes. He dressed quickly, ignoring Seamus's question about the smell - seriously, who knew burnt photos would stink so much? - pondered skipping breakfast, decided that would be too obvious, and hurried down. With the extra students from the foreign schools, it was packed, and he had to squeeze into the small space Ron and Hermione had left for him. He picked at his breakfast, mumbling one-word replies to any questions that came his way. "I think we made him get up too early," Ron chuckled. "An early rise is good for the brain," Hermione said, a little pompously, and, "Harry, stop pushing me." "Sorry," Harry mumbled, and moved back, except this meant he was once again pressed against Ron. The heat of the other boy was scalding. Well, maybe only in his head, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. He was so fucked. And not in the good way. Thank god for baggy robes, which hid the evidence. Although perhaps not enough, because on their way out of the Great Hall, Ron with a piece of toast still in his hand, Hermione touched his arm and quietly asked, "are you okay?" "I'm," Harry started, and then Colin brushed past them, close enough that his fingers trailed over Harry's hip, though the smaller boy didn't look his way. "I'm good. I'm fine. Triwizard." "I'll help you practice your spells this weekend," Hermione said, then almost immediately corrected herself. "Oh, no, it's a Hogsmeade weekend, isn't it? Sunday evening then." "Er, yeah, okay," Harry said, not really listening, trying to see where Colin had gone. Hermione rolled her eyes. "I know you have to keep an eye out for nosy reporters -- I still don't know how she's doing that -- but, really, Harry. There's cautious, and then there's paranoid. Look at Moody; do you really want to end up like that?" They both shuddered. ### Harry tried to take Hermione's advice to heart, but he couldn't keep his mind on it. He was so distracted worrying about Colin and Ron and Cedric and everything that even Ron picked up on it, stopping him in the middle of a corridor. "Are you coming down with something?" He pressed a hand to Harry's forehead, across the lightning-bolt scar. Harry flushed. "You do feel a bit warm." "I'm fine," Harry said. "I dunno." Ron turned and called across the crowd. "Hey, Ginny, come here and see if you think Harry's hot." "I can tell he's hot from here," Ginny said, then squeaked and blushed as all her friends laughed around her. "I meant physically," Ron said, then frowned as the giggles got louder. "Temperature!" He sighed as the girls moved on. "Little sisters, man." His hand was still on Harry. "I think you're hot, anyway." Harry, blushing fiercely, pushed his hand away. "Leave off." "Not in a gay way or anything," Ron said quickly. "Say, have you seen Lavender lately? Woof!" He continued on in this vein until they got to the common room, where Hermione overheard and started lecturing Ron about sensitivity. While they were distracted, he sneaked off, intending to go to his dorm room. When he passed the door to the third years dorm, though, he came back. Looking both ways, Harry quickly transfigured the door into glass, prepared to undo it in a blink if there was anyone inside. He could see no-one, so he turned the door back to wood and then spelled it open, slipping inside. It was easy to find Colin's bed - his was the only muggle trunk, a big old steamer of a thing - and Harry knelt down by it to examine the lock. To his surprise, alohomora failed to open it, nor could he transfigure it. In frustration, he pounded it with his fist and then swore. That had hurt! There was a soft chuckle behind him, and he swung round to find Colin standing there, twirling his wand in his fingers. "Hello, Harry. Looking for something?" "Fuck you," Harry snapped. Colin just smiled wider. "Like the lock? Dennis and I worked on that together; it turned out much better than those stupid badges. Dennis is quite precocious," he added proudly. "He's only ten!" Harry remembered Dennis from the sorting, the tiny boy dwarfed by Hagrid's coat. Which had nothing at all to do with today, damn it. "Give me the photos!" "Okay," said Colin. Harry blinked. "Really?" "If you make it worth my while," Colin added. Harry growled, but Colin's wand was pointing right at him and, anyway, there was Dennis to consider as well. "I want you. Just for a day - a few hours, even," he corrected. "This weekend. I know a room." "Look, Colin," Harry said, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "I'm flattered, really, that you like me, but--" "But nothing," Colin said, his smile fading into a cold expression too old for his cherubic face. "We're good at charms, me and Dennis. I learned from Lockhart, you know. You can't wipe my memory. And even if you could, you'd never find all the photos. Not the ones of you and that Hufflepuff - you know he's shagging Cho too, right?" "Yes," Harry snapped. "We're not boyfriends or anything. It's just a bit of fun. No one will care if you tell." "Won't they?" Colin sneered. "Well, maybe so. What about the photos of you trying to break into my trunk, do you think they'll ignore those too? Hogwarts Champion Thief! That'll go down well. Trying to steal, what?" "You know what," Harry said. "My socks?" Colin suggested, fake-innocently, and Harry's blood froze again. "See? I know all your secrets, Harry. People like to make fun of me, call me creepy Creevey, or mudblood dwarf. But you know what? I'm damn good at what I do. I see things no-one else does. And I always get what I want." By now Colin was practically shaking, his eyes lit with a fury that made his voice tight and commanding. "Now, you go out there, Harry," Colin continued, "and you play up being sick, and when all your friends go to Hogsmeade without you, we'll have our fun, you'll get the photos, and done is done." Harry started to speak, but Colin flicked his wand. The stunner barely missed him. "And done is done," Colin repeated. "I won't even keep any for my private collection, though you do make the prettiest faces when Cedric's fat cock splits you open. Faces every single person in Britain will see plastered on the front cover of the Prophet if you try and fuck me over." He considered this, and added, with a wide smirk, "in the bad way." ### It wasn't hard to pretend to be sick. Harry felt sick, and not just about the photos. The anger in Colin's voice! He wondered if this was how Pettigrew had started going off the rails too, the Gryffindor who didn't quite match up. Worse, being ordered around like that had been -- Not quite a turn on exactly, but interesting in a way Harry didn't want to think about but kept on doing so. Thoughts of Colin were all mixed up, pity and fear and some weird kind of connection, almost visceral, curling in his belly. Harry couldn't put words to it. It certainly wasn't love at all, but if it was lust, it was a kind he'd never felt before. Thursday bumbled past and Friday alternatively dragged and blurred and Harry found himself blindsided at odd moments by the memory of Colin saying, just before he left the third year dorm, "oh, and Harry?" and then catching Harry's hair in his hands and pulling him down and slipping his small, sweet, sharp tongue between Harry's lips. For all his brain twisted at the thought, his body disagreed; his underwear was forever being stretched tight by his traitorous cock. At night, he tossed and turned; rather, he very resolutely didn't toss, because as sick as jerking off while thinking about your best friend fucking you was, it was nothing compared to jerking off while thinking about what the kid who was blackmailing you might want to do to you. Or have done to him, because Harry would have taken quite vicious satisfaction right now in shoving Colin against the wall and pounding his tight arse until the boy begged for mercy. Now, if he could just think about that without their positions suddenly swapping and Colin taking him just as hard, everything would be cool. Harry turned over in his bed again. It was four, maybe five in the morning. Saturday. He tried to ignore his erection, but sweat had stuck his clothes to him and every breath made his cock rub against his pyjamas, against the blankets, head slick, balls aching. Fucking Creevey, screwing him up like this - bugger. He needed new swear words. He needed -- he really needed to jack off, is what he needed. Fine. He would just think about Ginny. That was perfectly safe. He wrapped his hand around his cock which throbbed with relief. Ginny. Except Ginny saying he was hot lead straight to Ron saying the same, to memories of Ron's hand on him, to Cedric's hand on him, to Colin's photo, to the thought of Colin's hand on him, to memory of that kiss, of the boy's tongue licking inside his mouth, of his soft lips rubbing against Harry's own, and he clamped a hand over his own mouth to prevent his moans escaping as RonCedricColin suckkissfucked him over the edge. The first shot of come reached his chin, the next two splattered his top, and the last few shot and dribbled over his hand. Sighing, Harry slumped back onto the bed. He went to rub his fingers clean on the sheets, but a perverse impulse brought them to his mouth instead, and he sucked up the salty offering. One more day, he thought. Just today, and then it's done, like Colin said. And then maybe he could go back to wanking about his best friend in guilty peace.