Title: Circle
Author: florahart
Characters/Pairings: Harry/multiple
Rating: NC17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: harems
Other Warnings: extremely failtastic consent
Word Count: 1075
Summary/Description: Harry is supposed to marry Ginny, not do this.
Author's Notes: Thanks to snegurochka_lee for the read-through.

---

Circle

It's a foregone conclusion that Harry is supposed to marry Ginny. They'll have half a dozen kids in eight years; Ron and Hermione's kids will race about the house all entwined with his own; he'll work with Ron as an Auror and Hermione will be just downstairs in Law Enforcement or the Department of Mysteries; everything will be perfect.

Harry doesn't know what to do with perfect.

He also doesn't know what to do with the woman in his bed.

Not like that. He knows what to do with her, physically, staring up as she (any one of a number of shes) rides him and moans (sometimes rather theatrically) and offers what he suspects are false assurances about his cock and his skill and the way he touches her. But when she falls asleep curled against him as though she has any reason to trust their relationship, when she wakes and looks at him with eyes that say she knows what he's doing with her--he's not sure what to do with that.

He also knows what to do with the men who are sometimes there when he awakens, often alert before he is, often the cause of his startling awake, their shoulders pushing his thighs apart, their lips and tongues wet and pressing on his cock. They look at him too, with broad knowing grins as they conjure lube and arch their backs to reach around and cram slick fingers up their arses, preparing themselves for him because Merlin knows no one expects Harry Potter to finger or nuzzle or lick anything. They only expect him to take pleasure in their bodies.

It's probably wrong of him--he's going to marry Ginny, he remembers, and she certainly has no idea and never will although his reasons are unclear, even to him--but he does. He fucks into anyone that offers. And everyone offers.

Harry never offers, never asks.

He compels.

No one gossips, of course; his harem consists only of people who would, all else being equal, be willing to fuck him, and the first thing he does when he chooses a new member of the group is explain how it will be. That this explanation is also a compulsion isn't part of the conversation. Each of them will know when he wants them, and each of them will arrange to come to him. His Floo is locked down tight, and if you ask any of his friends they will tell you: even they can't come through unannounced. Even Ron. Even Ginny. No one questions this; it's not so different from the level of security any famous wizard might employ.

(It is; everyone allows family through and uses a Secret Keeper. Harry is different, but he's Explained it to everyone, and everyone understands.)

And so he chooses, and he calls, and they come, privately and nakedly and with no capacity to tell anyone or let anyone see. The Floo understands him, too, and lets them through exactly in harmony with his call.

Tonight he's chosen unconsciously, in his sleep. That's usually the way, when it's a man he wants, when it's stubble and a hard cock he can make squirt and keep hard and force to go again. When, as in this case, it's blond hair and a sarcastic tongue that never the less never crosses the line into disrespect. But this is new; he's called two this time, and they stare at each other, silent and a little surprised and probably considerably shocked. (It isn't as though they could object if they wanted to, but they don't, do they? He knows they can't.)

He crosses his arms over his bare chest and arranges the two of them with a thought, one on his hands and knees, nuzzling and suckling and then other behind him, hard and anxious. And eager; none of them fuck him, of course. He nods, a physical permission because he feels magnanimous enough to let Draco know he's about to be opened wide.

Draco reaches back, fingers already wet, but Harry grasps his wrist in a flash, like a Snitch in the rain, and he's gentle as he puts the hand back down on the hard floor. Not that magnanimous. He nods again, and watches Draco arch and gasp as Ron pushes forward into the barest hint of lube. His own knees are buffered against bruising, because honestly, how is that any fun, but he considers, as he watches the pair of them, that tomorrow's court proceeding ought to be amusing, as both of them hobble and remember why.

The Floo flares again, and Harry realizes he didn't know he wasn't finished drawing his picture. He smiles as Hermione slides under Draco, legs hooking around the backs of Ron's thighs. Harry has to move back, out of the way, to accommodate that, but they look amazing, and he tilts his head and watches Ron push Draco forward with each thrust. Hermione rocks her hips up off the floor to pull Draco in deep. Harry's mind tastes, for a moment, the sensation in Draco's balls, crushed as they are between Ron's thighs and Hermione's arse, and then he smiles and returns to his former position at the head of the lot of them, thrusting hard into Draco's throat as he forces him to come for the first time tonight.

The look on Ron's face as Draco clamps down tight is amazing, but Harry doesn't let anyone stop. He's not done with them yet.

The pressure behind his eyes eases as his own orgasm approaches; this is always the way, and he knows as soon as he comes, the headache will start to return. If he could, he would just fuck all the time, but that would be telling; someone would notice eventually, and then they'd put a stop to it. He slows down, drawing out the moment, concentrating on the hard pulse in Ron's cock and the shivering tremors in Hermione's cunt and the way Draco's arse burns.

It's beautiful.

Finally, with one hand on his throbbing scar, he lets go.

He awakens in the morning with a slight headache and the wonderful soreness to which he's become accustomed in this body (so young and whole!), and considers whether it's time to start expanding his circle. He doesn't want to overreach himself and he has all the time in the world all over again, but patience wasn't his forte the first time around, and it isn't now.