The Take

Due to Hermione and Ron taking an extra long honeymoon, Harry was left alone for several months. It took a few semi-good friends to cheer him up. Three weeks into the Entertain Harry project, it had become so much a habit between them that Harry wouldn’t be surprised if they had drawn up a roster. Ginny the night before, Zacharias the night before that, (he wasn’t so bad, just asked really stupid questions), and now, Friday night, it was Seamus and Dean’s turn.

The little pub, Monstrous, was a wizarding establishment a few blocks away from Harry’s apartment. A band was playing onstage; Harry had his chin propped up on one hand while Seamus did a jig and Dean examined his manicured fingernails.

“ - And I thayth, that ith thooooh your colour,” - Dean had taken to speaking in a lisp sometime in their seventh year, along with appropriately queenie hand gestures - “but he wouldn’t believe me, tho I told -“

A zombie waiter came up to their little table and Harry ordered another jug of beer. Remus didn’t have his shift tonight, not that Harry wanted to talk to him. Why had he said that anyway? He was probably just being polite; Remus was always so polite, even to the anti-werewolf customers. Honestly, if they didn’t want to get served by a werewolf, why come to the bar that’s appropriately called Monstrous, dickheads.

Seamus sat down. “And he actually came back again?” he said to Dean. “Jeeeesus! What an eejit, so.”

He’s always so fatherly, Remus was. Probably wanted to sound encouraging. It only made Harry feel worse.

“I know!” Dean answered. “Tho daft.”

Perhaps he should keep his distance in future. But it was so cute when he gave that smile; Harry felt he could -

“- do ‘Arry?” It was Seamus. He was so hyperactive he was bouncing up and down in his seat and tapping his fingers on Harry’s arm.

“What are we going to do? Honethly, Seamuth, we are going to get wickedly thmashed, aren’t we?”

Harry looked up and nodded, pushing himself into the present. “Hermione sent me a letter,” he addressed to Seamus. “Said she forgot to say thank you for planning the wedding.”

Seamus was a wedding planner. He preened. “Nah, it was nothing. I had fun, although I still protest Hermione’s choice of dress.”

“Don’t we all.” Dean rolled his dark eyes. “Puffy thleeveth are thooooh out, people.”

Dean was, for lack of a better word, camp. Skinny, effeminate, hairdresser, slept around. Seamus on the other hand, also slept around, but at least Dean was picky, whereas Seamus jumped on almost anyone, male or female, and had since sixth year. He gave Cho a run for her money. But the two boys made a great pair regardless.

“So,” Harry grinned, “speaking of weddings, when are you two planning to get hitched?”

They both suddenly stopped and stared at him, shocked.

A pause and then, “’Arry, you have a really bad sense of humour.”

Harry’s smile slid away. “Yeah, I know. Sorry. But don’t you two ever wonder?”

“Harry.” Dean gave him a look. “I may be gay, but I’m not a girl.”

“I know,” said Harry again, offended. “But I think about it, sometimes. And don’t you two want to settle down together eventually? You can’t stay young forever.”

A second shocked silence. This time, Harry was unsure why these two were staring at him in disbelief as if he had just announced Snape had a nice bum. He supposed it may have been the comment on not staying young forever.

Seamus, usually one to break a silence, said slowly, “Together…?”

Harry took a large gulp of beer. The Irishman had that weird scrunched up look about him, which Harry assumed meant he was really, really confused. Or constipated.

“Aren’t you two, like, together... ish?” asked Harry tentatively.

“No,” said Dean.

“Oh… Oh well. Sorry.”

Silence. Harry drunk more beer. Seamus watched the band, bobbing a bit as if he wanted to stand up and dance again. Dean picked at his nails. Harry thought about Remus.

“I’m bored,” Dean announced. “Let’th go clubbing.”

“We have to get hammered first,” said Seamus.

“Then we should be getting shotsthss. Vodka.”

“Tequila!” Seamus brightened. “With lemon and salt.”

Harry abruptly stood up. “Let’s go, then.”

And they did. Pretty uneventful, but Harry was quite used to that by now. The wizarding world didn’t have clubs, so they went to the Muggle district and got nicely drunk there instead, Harry dancing like a lunatic, waving his arms all over the place.

Afterwards they all went back to Seamus and Dean’s flat for a four a.m. coffee; Dean not very steady on his feet and Seamus still bouncing around like he had ants in his pants. Harry was starting to sober up, in that horrible depressed way people got when coming down from a binge.

Seamus swung an arm over Harry’s shoulders. “Now ‘Arry, when was the last time you’d done the googly doo doo?”

Harry squinted at him. “Huh?”

Seamus turned to Dean, who was making the coffee rather sloppily. “A bit of a eunuch, our ‘Arry.” He turned back to Harry. “How about a shag, then?”

Oh, God. Harry suddenly wished Remus was here to rescue him. Remus would always be Harry’s knight in shining wolf pelt.

Dean was glaring at them now. “You’re not having thex with Harry,” he commanded. “He’th our friend.”

Seamus’s grip on Harry only tightened. “But he’s so cute when he’s all scared and that.” Seamus pinched him on the chin. “See? Just look at him. Adorable! How many times have you imagined being with Harry when we were bunking together at school, eh? C’mon, Dean, be honest…!”

Dean pouted and put his hands on his hip, striking a pose. “You’ve got a point, I thuppothe,” he considered. “But that meanth I get to join in.”

Seamus beamed, and abruptly picked Harry up, flopping him over his shoulder. Harry yelped when his head collided with the bedroom doorway.

Seamus put Harry down just as Dean closed the door behind them. Then Seamus’s lightly freckled face was in Harry’s line of vision and he realised too late that -

Seamus was kissing him. It was wet and sloppy and tasted like cigarettes and alcohol; his tongue swirled around and around in Harry’s mouth like a washing machine on its spin cycle. His hands were busy too, undoing the buttons on Harry’s shirt and slipping it off. He stood frozen, as Dean came up behind him and started kissing his neck. Harry presumed it was supposed to be sexy, but it only tickled, and Harry let out an involuntary giggle.

Seamus undid the fly on both their trousers, at the same time. Golly, Seamus had skill.

Then he grabbed Harry by the shoulders and spun him around, pushing him in Dean’s direction. They grabbed each other and stumbled a bit, and being both naked, it made Harry feel really, really stupid. But he decided to try, at least something, so he awkwardly kissed Dean too, putting his hands up to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, only to remember that Dean’s hair was done in tight corn-rolls. He smelt funny too, and his lips were really thick and soft, but then again Dean was black and this was, Harry remembered, the first time he had kissed a dark guy.

Dean pushed him to the bed. All three were sitting on the sheets, although Harry was unsure what Seamus was doing, and it made him nervous. And then Dean started ohmygod- touching him and then -

“Narrgghhhh!” said Harry.

“What?” said Seamus, over Harry’s shoulder. “It’s alright, just relax.”

Honestly, how could Harry relax when argh Seamus was ick trying to put his finger up his… up his… there!

“Don’t worry, we’ll get Dean to top.” Harry tensed at Seamus’s words, and looked down…

“Oh my God, ohmygod, arrrrrrrrghhh!”

Dean look affronted. “What’th wrong with it?” he asked. “You’ve got one too, you know. Here, give me your hand, just touch it.”

“Narrrgh!” Harry screamed again, flailing his arms about so Dean couldn’t grab them. “It’s not that it’s just, it’s just, well it’s so big! It’s ENORMOUS! You are not putting that giant salami stick in my - “

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Dean! He is not joking, YOU ARE FECKING HUGE!”

Dean grinned proudly.

“Well, that’s alright,” said Seamus, flustered. “Bend over ‘Arry…”

Harry scrabbled away, standing and pulling a sheet with him, dislodging the others. There was thump and a swear word as Seamus fell on the floor, but Harry was already out the door and shutting it behind himself, wrapping the sheet around his body and half-running to the front door.

He twisted the handle and the door flew open.

It was Remus. He was looking tired and apprehensive, but as broad and beautiful as ever. Harry took in his big honey eyes, his salt-and-pepper hair and how it flopped across his brow and curled around his ears. His jumper was old and tight, and Harry could see the bulge of his biceps, and gosh did Remus have nice thighs. Harry grinned; Remus had come to rescue him again, he was definitely Harry’s knight in shining -

“I’m really sorry,” Remus burst out. “I didn’t mean to say those things to you.”

Harry face fell. “You didn’t?” he squeaked.

There was a twitch at the corner of Remus’s mouth. “Well, alright, I lied. You actually are really good looking.”

Harry’s smile was returning, and he bit his lip. “You really think so…?”

“Yes,” Remus blurted, looking uncomfortable, “of course you are Harry, just look at you - “

And then Remus did look at Harry, and he very suddenly turned serious and concerned.

He fidgeted. “Harry… why are you… did I interrupt something?”

“Yes,” Harry breathed, and he grabbed Remus by the arm and pulled him inside, shutting the front door with one hand while his other grasped the slipping sheet tightly. “But thank God you did.” He gave Remus a wide, scared look. “I was about to have sex with Seamus and Dean!”

Remus was so shocked he almost tripped. “Oh,” he said, “oh… dear. How… er, terrible.”

“I know,” Harry gushed. “Come on into the kitchen, I’ll make us some tea.”

They went into the kitchen and the clock read five in the morning. Harry had forgotten about the other two men he had left in the bedroom; neither of them had come out yet.

“I thought you’d be at Ginny’s,” chatted Remus, as Harry bent over the tea things, “but she said you’d be here.”

“Was Luna with her?” asked Harry, looking up.

“Yes,” Remus answered, and they both shared a shiver, muttering simultaneous “Urk, lesbians,” under their breaths.

“So where are Dean and Seamus?” Remus asked, but his question was answered by a sudden loud moan from the bedroom.

Harry scrunched up his face.

“That isn’t very hospitable of them,” said Remus, “with you still around.”

Harry shrugged, handing Remus his tea. “Let ‘em go; it’s their first time and about time too. Quite anticlimactic, really,” Harry added.

“Their first time? Oh my. I thought they were together.”

“So did I,” nodded Harry, “so did everybody. They’re worst than Ron and Hermione, and that’s saying something.”

“Indeed,” agreed the werewolf, just as another few moans sounded from the room and an “Ooooh, Dean, you BIG BOY!” could be heard.

“All we need now is Draco Malfoy and we’ll have the cast for Queer Eye for the Straight Wizard,” Harry remarked.

The apartment was mostly Muggle, as Dean and Seamus had grown up in Muggle families, and didn’t want to lose touch with things like the television. Harry found the remote to the CD player and turned it on, hoping to douse the moaning and groaning and bed squeaking with music. He regretted this, however, when a Robbie Williams track started playing.

“British men really can’t rap,” said Harry as he switched it off.

“Perhaps we should just go,” suggested Remus.

“I can’t,” said Harry, leaning a little closer to the other man, “my wand and clothes are in the bedroom and there is no way I’m going back in there.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “But do you really want to wait it out?”

But Harry had other ideas. He smiled and fluttered his eye lashes, leaning closer. “Can I kiss you now?” he whined.

“What about the floo?” Remus persisted.

“They don’t have one.”

“I thought I saw a fire - “

“You didn’t.”

“I swear I - “

Harry grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him. It was a closed, chaste kiss, but already it was better than that spit exchange he had had with Seamus earlier. Harry sucked on Remus’s lower lip, and pulled away. He was about to recommend going to the other bedroom when the groaning and moaning from the other room rabidly got louder.

“Okay,” Harry gave in, “let’s floo the hell out of here.”

Remus smiled in that sweet way that always made Harry’s heart melt into Potion-like goo. He swung an arm over the younger man’s shoulders and they walked into the living room, the sheet dragging behind Harry like distorted wedding dress. “Alright,” said Remus, “but we’re not sleeping together.”

“That’s okay,” Harry yawned, “I’m quite used to you playing hard-to-get.”

End.