Title: One Good Turn Deserves Another
Author: eeyore9990
Pairings: Neville/Harry, Neville/Ron, Neville/Dean, Neville/(implied)Seamus, Seamus/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The students will do anyonething to keep Hogwarts open.
Kinks: Autagonistophilia, Gay Men (also: gang bang, blow jobs, anal, voyeurism, exhibitionism)
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
A/N: Thanks to the usual suspects for all the help. Thanks to Jeff Palmer for the lovely porn vid that inspired this. Written for my porn-loving soul mate vlredreign.
Word Count: 1683

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By the time the students were back for their official seventh year, Hogwarts was in desperate straights. Money was tight all over the British wizarding community, and the Ministry was no longer willing to subsidize the school as they’d done in previous years. It really didn’t matter that all the Gringott’s vaults of the old families—who had fallen down on the wrong side of the war—had been seized by the Ministry, because most of those had been heavily drawn against to support The-Evil-Son-of-a-Bitch-Who-Could-Now-Be-Named and the money flow hadn’t been quite what everyone had expected.

The students who were left, as well as the faculty, had been desperate to return the school to the grand old dame she’d been before war had ravaged her. The faculty had given up all but the basic allowances they would need to survive, and the students… well, the students found ways to help with the funds for the school.

The lower years did everything they could to save money, though it really wasn’t much help with a school the size of Hogwarts. Magic ran most of the school, so the upkeep wasn’t so much that as it was books and food and potion’s ingredients and… the list went on and on.

The upper years, though, had found a way to squeeze money out of the most hardened spend-thrifts in England. After all, no one could resist a good spot of live action pornography, now could they?

Monday through Friday the students attended their studies, but weekends were for the customers. The students really didn’t complain, especially as no one was forced to participate. If anyone was feeling off that day, they simply stayed out of the common rooms.

The professors turned a blind eye toward what the sixth and seventh years were doing. It wasn’t as if they could truly disallow it; they needed the income for the school desperately and the students were all legally adults. And if some of the professors snuck off to a special room with a small peephole, no one was the wiser. Besides, every profession should have its perks, right?

Tonight was a special night. Once per month, the students would take requests. It was all very secretive and conducted through channels that would ensure the privacy of the patron, which was all for the best. After all, no one really wanted to know which members of high-society—for surely, those were the only ones who could afford special nights—were paying to watch their every fantasy enacted by Hogwarts students.

The lady walked down the hallway under a Disillusionment Charm, standard procedure to protect the privacy of the patron as well as the innocence of the underage students. She stopped in front of the third door down on the left and pulled out the parchment that had been owled to her, glancing through her spectacles as she read off the word that was printed there. Ensuring no one else was in the hallway with her, she spoke the word in a clear voice and did not so much as twitch when the door popped open in front of her.

She was accustomed to magic, this lady, and nothing in this world was enough to shock her. She strode across the well-appointed room and settled herself into the comfortable arm chair that was placed before an enchanted mirror and waited for the show to begin.

One young man was lying on his back on a round ottoman, one that was just large enough to support his body from knees to shoulders at its widest point. He was propped on one elbow, looking down his body at his hand, slick with oil, which was slowly stroking up and down the engorged length of his cock. He twisted his wrist and dropped his head back, hissing with pleasure, just as another young man stepped into the scene.

"Neville," the redheaded newcomer—a Weasley boy, if she wasn't mistaken—said, voice husky with arousal as he stepped forward and knelt by the ottoman. Reaching down, he grabbed the first boy—Neville—by his ankles, pulling them up to brace his feet on his shoulders. Without so much as pausing, Weasley pushed his hips forward, sliding easily into Neville's arse, who must have been prepared already as his only reaction was to open his mouth with an encouraging moan.

Weasley settled into a rhythm right away, and though the lady hadn't had an opportunity to view his bits and pieces, they must have been rather special as Neville was moaning huskily and calling encouragement to him with every thrust. These two obviously had a rather good relationship, as Weasley said something in an undertone that made Neville laugh even as he arched his back and gasped at a particularly wicked thrust.

The lady smiled and slowly raised her skirts at that sound.

Far too soon for Weasley to have come, another young man walked into the mirror's frame. Weasley pulled free of Neville's arse and stood, pulling the new boy—Potter, she discovered, as he turned his head enough for the famous scar to show—into a hug but, oddly enough, didn't kiss or touch him in any way sexual. In fact, if they weren't both naked and obviously aroused, she would have termed the embrace merely friendly.

Potter turned and called to someone named Dean. Within seconds, a black boy walked in and, much like Weasley before him, immediately shoved his cock into Neville's arse. The lady licked her lips and shifted in her seat, eyes widening slightly when Neville's cries turned low and throaty.

Potter walked around to the other side of the ottoman and lowered himself to his knees, helping Neville lay back before shoving his engorged cock into that boy's mouth. He was whispering something she couldn't hear, and with an irritated huff, the woman pulled out her wand and incanted, "Sonorus" at the mirror.

"—like it, don't you?" Potter was murmuring. "Always get so hot when you're put on display like this. You just love to perform for an audience, don't you?"

Neville's moan was choked and strangled sounding, no small wonder with the fact that his lips were pressed right to the nest of curls at Potter's groin.

While this was going on, there was another switchout taking place at Neville's arse. This time a shorter, stocky boy slid in where Dean had left off, but while he was pounding ferociously into Neville, this boy turned his head and accepted Dean's cock into his mouth.

Several minutes passed with a lot of grunting and whispered encouragement: Potter to Neville and Dean to the newest boy. Weasley was stroking himself, eyes flicking from where Neville was sucking Potter so diligently to where the new boy was pounding carelessly into Neville's arse.

The lady watched as a deep flush spread up Weasley's chest and he made a short sound which must have warned the others of his impending orgasm. Potter gently pulled his deeply red cock from Neville's mouth and shifted on his knees until he was around the ottoman, prodding the new boy until he stopped his brutal thrusts. That boy, not bothering to release Dean from his mouth, pulled free of Neville and shuffled to the side, allowing Potter to move in.

For the first time that night, Neville was touched in a less than impersonal manner. Potter's hands ran lightly over his chest, tweaking his nipples and dipping into his navel. He looked up at Weasley's hand on his cock and grinned before he darted forward quickly, laying a rather sweet kiss on Neville's lips before he pulled back.

And not a moment too soon, either, as Weasley, with a choked grunt, began coming in spurts over Neville's chest.

Potter lifted just one of Neville's legs, hooking it over his shoulder as he gently pushed his cock into Neville's arse. Short, slow thrusts were his preference, obviously, though Neville seemed to enjoy them far more than any of the other boys' techniques. Not that he'd been unappreciative of those, but for Potter he screamed, hands digging into the cushion under him as his upper body twisted.

Dean pulled away from the unnamed boy with a gasp and quickly gripped his cock, fisting it swiftly until his creamy white come spilled out, a few drops landing on Neville's stomach before he stumbled forward to let the rest drip onto Neville's face.

The lady couldn't be certain, but she thought that some of it had landed in Neville's wide-open mouth. She gasped and pressed her fingers between her legs, not sure if she wanted to stifle her reaction or encourage it.

The young man she still couldn't identify climbed to his feet and, with the aid of Dean's hand, added his own contribution to the mess coating Neville's body.

Potter gave a few short, quick thrusts before slamming his hips against Neville's one final time, falling forward onto his hands to brace himself above Neville's well-used body. She heard Neville choke on a few gasping sobs, one that sounded distinctly like a plea of, "Harry!" before Potter pulled free of Neville's arse and raised up to swipe his tongue through Dean's come on Neville's cheek.

"Now, love. Come for me."

Without even touching himself, Neville sighed quietly—such a contrast to his encouraging moans from earlier—as his cock pulsed his release, completing his own decoration.

The lady shook her skirts back down to her ankles and collected her hat—complete with vulture accoutrement—and her red handbag and stood. She lingered for a moment, watching as her grandson shared a tired laugh with his friends. She was oddly proud of the boy.

She’d always known he’d do great things with Frank’s wand; she’d merely been slightly mistaken about which wand he’d do those things with.

Dropping her Galleons into the cup by the door, she exited swiftly, posture perfect as she walked away.


A/N: I apologise. Really. But every damn time I saw this month's prompt of Autagonistophilia, I kept reading it as "Augustaphilia" and, erm… well. *sigh*