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Harry hated taking showers after Quidditch.

It wasn't that he liked smelling like Ron's old socks. He liked smelling clean.

But when he could, he waited until he got back to the Gryffindor dorms to shower. At least there, he had some privacy.

You see, Harry was fifteen years old and not quite in control of his own body. Or his thoughts. Or even his eyes, sometimes.

It was normal to look at other boys in the showers, or so he'd heard. Boys felt the need to compare their assets to others, and be reassured that they were fairly normal.

But Harry doubted it was normal to look at other boys the way he did. That was part of the problem. Looking at the other boys (not all of them, mind you, but just certain ones) gave him funny feelings.

And those feelings came with a physical reaction. That was the problem with group showers.

When he was alone in the shower, and he got hard, he could take care of the problem himself. Quickly and efficiently. And he did, a lot. He'd got rather good at it, he thought proudly. Only that wasn't exactly something he could brag about. If they gave OWLs in tossing off, Harry would get an O.

But sometimes he knew he wouldn't have time to shower back at the dorm, so he had to use the locker room showers. Then he'd try and wait until everyone was gone, and then wash as fast as he could. If anyone else was there, he'd stare fixedly at the wall, and only the wall, and think hard about Professor McGonagall in her tartan robe. That would keep him out of trouble, usually.

It was one of those days that practise had run overtime, and Harry knew he'd have to rush right back to the castle for dinner. He waited, though, until even Neville had finished his shower before he slipped in.

Ah, perfect... there was no one there but him. Harry turned on one of the taps and happily began to lather his hair.

Unfortunately for him, Harry had forgotten one important fact. Because of a practical joke involving the Slytherins' brooms and a case of Old Bertha's Bludger Grease, Fred and George Weasley had been held after practise for a good talking-to by Madame Hooch. That meant, of course, that they were late getting back to the locker room, and subsequently late taking their showers.

The first indication that Harry was in trouble was when he sensed two people behind him. Two identical voices whispered in his ear, in a reasonable facsimile of Muggle stereo, "Well, if it isn't the Boy Who Showered. In the flesh."

Harry swore under his breath as Fred and George took up places on either side of him, each turning on a shower head. Fred and George were two of the biggest reasons he liked to shower alone.

And he did mean biggest.

*I will not look I will not look oh Merlin look at him...* Harry shut his traitorous eyes tightly and tried his best not to think of all that smooth naked flesh to either side of him. Fred and George had really filled out over the summer, and they'd grown their hair longer, and Harry had had some very inappropriate dreams about his best friend's brothers this year. The sort of dreams that had him washing out his pyjama bottoms in the morning.

This was so not good.

Fred and George chattered randomly at Harry, finishing each other's sentences and generally being Fred and George-like, and Harry started to relax. He could do this. He cautiously opened one eye to grab for his soap, only to find it wasn't there. He opened his other eye and made the mistake of looking around for it.

He had to avert his eyes from Fred, or was it George, with his arms stretched above his head, rinsing himself off. But unfortunately, looking the other way was just as bad, because there was an identical male lathering his body on the other side. Harry squeaked and realized he hadn't actually looked for his soap. He closed his eyes again. It was safer.

Then, a deep voice behind him said, "Looking for this?"

Harry squeaked again, and opened his eyes to see a hand extend from behind him, holding his soap bar.

"Yes, thanks," Harry said, his voice higher than he would have liked it to come out, and he reached to grab it.

Only to find it pulled out of his reach. Upwards.

"Fred!" protested Harry, reaching up for it. But the twins were quite a bit taller than he was.

"I'm Fred," a voice on Harry's other side said mildly, and Harry's eyes shot to the other side to see another redhead lounging against the wall.

This was just like one of his dreams. Only not, because he wasn't safe in his bed. He was in a shower, quite naked and wet, surrounded by twins.

One thing was just like his dreams, though. Harry was getting hard.

*nononononono go down*, he thought, and as usual his body didn't listen to him.

"Well, what have we here?" said a twin (Harry wasn't sure which one because his eyes were shut again).

"Harry, we didn't know you cared," another voice purred, even closer.

"Ohshit," was all that Harry could think to say, before two very wet and very male bodies were pressed up against him.

Then four (he counted, four) hands began to roam over his body.

Two mouths, one at each ear, chuckled softly.

One hand started at Harry's chest and traveled down.

"Say the word and we'll stop, Harry." Harry had given up on trying to figure out which twin was doing what.

Stop? Why would he want those wonderful hands to stop? His lust- addled brain just had one question. "Wh-why?"

"Why what, Harry?"

"Why are we doing this?"

Harry managed a nod, and realised his eyes were open again, and looking into Fred's (George's?) blue eyes.

"We want to."

"You want us to."

"Simple."

Harry nodded, and swallowed, and smiled.

Then one hand wrapped around his hard cock, and he forgot how to think.

"You like that, Harry?" Soft, breathy voice in one ear.

"You're so sexy, Harry." Rough, deep voice in the other ear.

"We thought you might be interested."

"By the way you looked at us."

"But we weren't sure."

"Until today."

Harry moaned as his cock was stroked (by George, he was almost sure of it) and his nipples were teased. His attention was drawn by Fred (he thought) when the boy moaned too.

"You don't mind if we join in a bit, do you, Harry?"

Harry looked down and saw that George not only was stroking Harry's cock, but now his other hand was occupied by his brother's cock as well. He gasped at about the same time as Fred, who in turn reached out and took George in hand. Fred's free hand was still caressing Harry's wet naked skin. Harry stopped trying to think and just felt.

He grabbed onto two strong teenage boys as they pleasured him and each other. His moans were loudest of all and he had a fleeting hope that no one would walk in on them, and then he stopped worrying, and started to come.

Harry gasped, and his body arched back, and his cock spasmed in George's hand. Harry couldn't even warn the twins before he was covering everyone with his hot seed.

Fred and George didn't seem to mind, though; in fact, they seemed to quite like it as they followed suit at almost exactly the same time.

The only sounds in the room for long moments were running water, and the pants and moans of three spent boys.

Harry came back to his senses and he looked at Fred and George in wonder. "You... we... gah."

Fred and George grinned at each other, and said,

"D'you think he liked it?"

"Hard to say. We might have to do it again."

"Right now?"

"Course not! Dinner's in five minutes."

"Oh. After dinner, then?"

"Capital."

Harry didn't mind the showers much after that.