Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1111902.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Fred_Weasley/George_Weasley, Harry_Potter/Fred_Weasley/George_Weasley
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Ron_Weasley, Fred_Weasley, George_Weasley
  Additional Tags:
      Twincest, Voyeurism, Accidental_Voyeurism, Adolescent_Sexuality, Floo
      Network, Weasleys'_Wizard_Wheezes, Book_6:_Harry_Potter_and_the_Half-
      Blood_Prince, Gift_Fic, Canon_Compliant
  Stats:
      Published: 2007-12-30 Words: 1672
****** More Than He Bargained For ******
by IamShadow21
Summary
     When Harry Floos into Wheezes unannounced, he sees something he
     didn't expect.
Notes
     For the lovely hpuckle and aunt_agatha, for being two of the best
     comment cheerleaders a porn writer could wish for.
     Canon compliant. Set after the events of Chapter Six, HBP.
See the end of the work for more notes
It wasn’t until I laid out my purchases on my bed at the Burrow that I realised
my error. The bag from Flourish and Blotts wasn’t there.
After a momentary panic, I shut my eyes and retraced my steps as well as I
could. The Alley, the book shop, Madam Malkin’s, Wheezes...
Wheezes...
I’d put it down on the floor beside me at Wheezes, while I was readjusting the
load of boxes in my hands, and I couldn’t remember picking it up. I’d been
distracted by Malfoy.
Which meant all my new schoolbooks were at Fred and George’s shop somewhere, if
they hadn’t been stolen by another customer.
Getting to Diagon Alley had been such a complex operation in the first place.
Ministry cars, Hagrid providing the visible muscle, Mrs Weasley hovering
nervously... They wouldn’t want to go through all that again just because I’d
been absent minded. And there was something mildly humiliating about having to
admit I’d been so stupid as to leave something as vital as my textbooks behind
while the Wheezes I’d got for free from Fred and George were here at the
Burrow.
“Ron?”
“Yeah?”
Well, at least that’s what it vaguely sounded like. Ron had his mouth crammed
with at least two Chocolate Frogs.
“Could you cover for me for a while? Tell your mum I’m having a sleep or
something?”
Ron’s eyebrows quirked and he made a noise that might have been “Why?”
“I left my books at Wheezes. I’m going to Floo there, grab them and come back.”
Ron looked decidedly alarmed. His face contorted as he swallowed his mouthful
with an effort. “Why don’t you just Owl the twins? They could send them back,
or bring them round personally.”
I shook my head. “It’d take Hedwig half a dozen trips – a couple of those books
are three inches thick. And if Fred or George had to come over to bring them
back, they’d never let me forget it. This’ll be much easier. The shop’s just
closed for the day. I’ll nip over, grab my bag and come back as quickly as I
can.”
Ron still looked reluctant, but after a moment’s hesitation, he agreed and ran
a diversion for me that involved several pairs of Ginny’s knickers and the
Burrow’s resident troupe of garden gnomes. During the resultant chaos and
squawking I stepped into the Floo unnoticed, clearly enunciating the address.
“Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes!”
I stumbled out into a small room with little in it but a small kitchen table
and chairs, a sink and a Quick-Boil Kettle. Admittedly there wasn’t space for
much else. It didn’t look like Wheezes, but that wasn’t surprising as all I’d
seen was the shop floor.
I opened the door and found myself in the dim back section of the shop. I took
a couple of confident steps forward before I was stopped in my tracks by the
sound of a low, teasing chuckle from the front room.
Oh, shit.
Though I had known the shop would be closed, I hadn’t even considered the
possibility that the twins might be downstairs this late. Or downstairs with
company, because there was a gentle murmur of discussion going on out there. In
fact, from the tone of the next laugh, it sounded like more than a discussion.
He would have to have chosen a day when one of the twins sweet-talked a bird
into visiting after hours.
“Just admit it,” a twin (George?) said smugly. “I’ve won.”
There was an indecipherable angry grumble.
“That’s, what, the third time this week? I’m starting to suspect you want to
lose,” George purred.
“This can’t be right,” Fred snapped. “These numbers don’t make sense. We should
have tied.”
Fred?
“The All-Seeing Eye never lies. You lost on points, brother of mine.”
Fred muttered something highly obscene about where George could stick the All-
Seeing Eye.
“It’s catching most of the shoplifters before they get anywhere near the door,”
George reminded him.
Fred sounded sulky. “I don’t care. I’m getting to hate the bloody thing.”
“You just hate it because it stops you cheating,” George mocked.
“Stops you cheating, too.”
“Ah, but it was never as much of an issue with me. With you, it’s the follow-
through that’s costing you.”
“What about this?” I heard the rustle of parchment, and took the opportunity to
creep closer to the dividing curtain, though I couldn’t have explained to
anyone why I didn’t just walk straight in there. “This here. That German
wizard, the one who couldn’t understand a bloody word I said. He spent nearly
fifty galleons! Where’s my bonus? I should have got at least twenty points for
that sale!”
“Pitch to Packing, that’s the rule. The rule you insisted on, need I remind
you. You took his money, but walked off straight after and let Verity bag the
merchandise. Automatic forfeit of the bonus.”
I heard an annoyed huff and a hollow thudding sound that suggested Fred had
allowed his forehead drop to the countertop in frustration.
I was at the curtain now, so I heard the interchange that followed very
clearly.
“Is it really that bad?” George asked affectionately, and from the tone I could
tell he was smiling.
I heard an intake of breath and a shuffle on the boards, as though Fred had
straightened up. “Merlin, no,” he murmured. “It’s just I think I’m going to get
calluses on my knees if I don’t start winning again soon.”
“I think I could live with that,” sniggered George.
There was a soft, wet sound, like that of a kiss.
“’Course you could, you bloody perv.” There was a rhythmic rustling sound now,
as though of rough hands sliding across fabric, more shuffling on the boards,
more moist sounds, a low whimper that made my cock pulse. Now Fred had the
teasing tone in his voice, and what he said next wiped away any doubt about
what might be going on behind the curtain. “...so hard already...what have you
been thinking about?”
“You...” gasped George. “All day...”
The throb in my groin was more insistent this time. I had to see. I twitched
the edge of the curtain back an inch, and there they were.
George had his back against the counter and was leaning heavily against it. His
eyes were closed and his face oddly tense, and he was clutching the edge of the
counter in a death grip as Fred licked his neck in broad strokes and rubbed his
cock through his robes.
And the Flourish and Blotts bag was right beside him.
Any sensible decent person would have chosen that moment to back away slowly,
then deliberately dropped something heavy and loudly announced themselves. Or
snuck back to the Floo and never, ever spoken of it.
I was apparently neither decent nor sensible because I stayed right where I
was, rubbing the hard bulge in my pants, when Fred dropped to his knees and
lifted George’s robes. And I had a perfect view when Fred wrapped his hand
around the base of his twin’s cock and bent his head to suck it.
Fred set a slow, teasing pace; licking and gently sucking the head while his
hand moved up and down the shaft, barely touching the skin. George was soon
sweating and moaning, tangling the fingers of one hand in the copper hair of
his double.
“Fuck...so good...” George panted.
Right about then, I decided that my jeans were a terrible thing, and resolved
to wear robes for the foreseeable future. With the utmost care, tooth by
metallic tooth, I lowered the zipper to free my aching erection. I don’t think
I’d ever been so hard, and when I took myself in hand I had to bite back a cry.
Keeping my eyes fixed on the tableau in front of me, I battled the impulse to
bring myself off right then and matched the rhythm of my fist to the bobbing of
Fred’s head.
I was so close, and outside the curtain the speed was escalating. George was
leaning harder than ever on the counter behind him, his head thrown back, his
hips thrusting his cock deeper and harder into Fred’s mouth. Fred’s hand was
firm around the base of George’s cock now, moving in short strokes with the
occasional twist. His cheeks were hollowed with the suction and his eyes were
fixed almost unblinkingly on his twin’s ecstatic face. Fred’s other hand was
deep within his own robes, moving in time with his mouth and my own wanking.
Abruptly, George’s face contorted and with a shout he gave half a dozen quick
thrusts into Fred’s mouth. Fred swallowed deeply and rested his forehead
against his twin’s hip as his hand worked frantically to drag out his own
orgasm.
I sank my teeth into my lip as I came all over my hand, the curtain and the
floor, then slumped against the doorframe while I fought to catch my breath.
Then the voices of the twins intruded into my post-orgasmic haze.
“...such a show-off,” Fred panted. “You really do perform better when you know
you've got an audience.”
“Individual Signature Floo Chimes...” George gasped. “They sound remotely in
any areas of the building you designate...”
I froze, rather like a deer does when faced with an oncoming lorry.
“Brilliant,” said Fred, his hand now caressing George’s arse.
“I think they’ll catch on, don’t you?” speculated George, smoothing Fred’s
rumpled hair.
“Great song choice, by the way... ‘A Wizard’s Wand Has a Knob at the
End’...inspired...” chuckled Fred.
“More appropriate than I knew when I chose it,” George said, and with a flick
of his wand the curtain whipped open.
And there I was, shagged out and sagging against the doorframe, still loosely
holding my soft cock, utterly mortified. The twins, one still on his knees,
were both smiling suggestively at me; their eyes heavy lidded, their hands
drifting over each other.
“So, Harry,” Fred asked in a lazy drawl. “Do you see anything that takes your
fancy?”
End Notes
     Of course 'A Wizard's Staff Has a Knob at the End' is not mine, but
     belongs to the brilliant Terry Pratchett.
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