Toppers Wallow

The rainstorm that had followed them from Hogwarts passed over during the night, because of the late finish to Saturday breakfast most of the dripping foliage was now dry. The students sat round in a semicircle as Hamish went through the rules, not that there were many, explaining that they had shields which scored points for each hit received and fended off. In the same way, a participant scored points if they actually managed to hit a person and not his or her shield. If that happened the participant was counted as dead and had to retire from the game. It was to be a team effort and the numbers of the students were split in half. The object of the game was for one team to get as many people from one safety zone to another with as few casualties as possible. The other team had to stop them by successfully painting each opponent. During the morning there were to be two games so that each team had a chance at being both aggressors and sneakers.



Next came Harry with a pile of newspapers. He carefully went through the process of making coveralls; then challenged each student to make their own.



“Remember,” said Harry, “If you don’t make them properly you will be naked when they come apart.”



A couple of rude comments were made and a few nervous giggles, but they set too with gusto, helped by all the tutors. The four Muggles were totally fascinated by the process, not really having seen spells being learnt and cast before. One team made dark brown coveralls and the others had dark green; both were dappled to give reasonable camouflage in the woods. In contrast the referees wore bright orange so as to be seen; Harry and co made the Muggles their coveralls. Ron read out the names of each team, getting some grizzles and some excited yes’s at his choices. Next the paint guns were given out, each with a charge of six balls; competitors being judged exhausted if they had used all six up, this aped the exhaustion felt when using spells.



Dean and Seamus had made another entrance on the other side of the Apparating Area, so that the mid point of the Milkwood could be accessed. As the party was about to cross the area, two cracks occurred revealing Ernie and Lavender.



“Hello Harry. Poppy sent us in case of any injuries. We phoned John, and Isabel said she was pleased to have us sleep over for two nights.”



“Thanks for coming guys; we’re just off to start the first exercise. Use the basement for your surgery pro tem.”



The sneakers were taken to the Northern zone, following the boundary footpath between the two properties. Only when Hamish received acknowledgement of their arrival were the aggressors allowed to fan out and find ways of intercepting. The sneakers aim was to reach the stream that ran alongside Milkwood Lane on the southern boundary, a straight distance of about three-quarters of a mile.



One of the young goblins thought it was fun to aim at and hit the trees. However he was shocked when he was made to retire before the game started. One of the referees explained that, because all six of his paintballs had been used up, he was deemed exhausted. To say the least, his team-mates gave him a roasting for inconsiderately letting the side down. Even then, Harry felt that it was a useful lesson in conserving one’s energies.



The first game was over before coffee break, with slightly more than half the sneakers home and dry, many of them elves. During the debrief, it was found that the elves had taken to the trees, thus escaping attention. The aggressors claimed it was against the rules, but were soon disabused of that notion by the referees. All kinds of jocular threats were made about the return match and, fortified by coffee and biscuits, the merry throng set out to do battle once more.



The lunchtime recapitulation had the same team winning, not by any great margin, but enough to make them chant about victory. He pool became varicoloured, as both excited teams jumped in wearing their coveralls. Before the buffet lunch Harry had to give instruction on drying and remaking spells.



Ginny and Daphne called in just before the company started munching.



“Harry, would you mind if we used the washing and toilet facilities here, the ones at Bathilde’s old cottage are primitive to say the least,” asked Ginny.



“Of course you may. How are you getting on there?”



“We’ve cleaned it up, but there are various structural things that need doing, especially the plumbing. Billy’s going to do the painting for us, once the building work is done,” Daphne observed.



“Who are you getting to do that work, Ginny?” Harry looked hopeful.



Draco mimed fishing at him.



“That’s the problem. Daphne’s dad gave us the money, but the builder we thought we’d use has shut up shop.”



“Did you know Dean and Seamus are good at this kind of thing?”



“Yes! But we daren’t ask them. We think they wanted to buy that cottage.”



“Come with me. - - - - - - Dean?”



“Yes Harry?”



“Daphne and Ginny would like you to do some work for them on their cottage.”



“Wow! Great! Yes we’d love to. Won’t we Lover?” asked Dean.



“Daphne’s dad gave us the money, but old Cartwright’s retired,” explained Ginny



“No probs Darlings; just leave it ter us, Billy and Cole. Just show us what you want. Dean Love’s ace at plumbing.”



“Oh good! That’s what we most need. There’s a filthy old loo in the backyard; we daren’t sit on it in case we catch something.” Daphne mimed holding her nose and wafting away smells. “The sink needs doing too and an upstairs bathroom putting in.”



“Usual three up and two down with a scullery attached, is it?”



“Got the idea in one, Seamus. We think we can make the back bedroom into the bathroom,” suggested Ginny.



“If you build out over the scullery, you can still have your three bedrooms, you know.”



“Come and show us what you mean,” asked Daphne.



“Right you are Darlings. This evening all right?”



“Care to come and share lunch with us?” suggested Harry.



The girls looked pleased and Kreacher organised two more places.



As they were eating, Draco drew Harry’s attention to the way the teams had now divided and were sitting together at tables on different sides of the room, lobbing bread rolls at each other. The staff chatted about this, wondering if the teams should be re-arranged. Hamish advised against this, saying that a little partisanship helped with creating the team spirit which they were trying to engender. Lavender reported that various students had called at the makeshift surgery for scrapes and cuts to be healed; nothing serious, except one had to have her eyes washed out, having received a paintball directly on her nose.



The afternoon game was timed to be longer. Each team had a treasure which they had to guard. The winners would be those who managed the take the other team’s treasure and retain, or retake, their own. There would be penalties for lost members; so, like Quidditch, it would be possible to gain both treasures and lose the game. This time the teams started from different ends of the woodland, neither knowing exactly where the other team’s treasure was hidden, nor how it was guarded. A couple of times the opponents had to be physically separated, having become over enthusiastic in their determination to win. One particularly belligerent human was removed and an elf who kept throwing dead branches suffered a similar fate. Luckily they were from different sides. The team who had lost twice in the morning managed just to win this time enabling them to save some face.



Dinner was rowdy but not angry. Obviously the youngsters had enjoyed what had happened and were relating across their foursomes. Ron had been cunning by ensuring that the combat teams contained at least one from each quartet, plus all houses plus equal numbers of sexes. The result was a friendly atmosphere pervading the crowded common room after the meal.



John interrupted the proceedings. “Harry will you come and help, please? Mrs Pierce has fallen and may have broken something.”



“You know Lavender and Ernie are here; they’d be the best ones, being trainee Medi-Magicals.”



“Good idea. Come along then Dear People.” So exited the first aid party.



As before table games and swimming, football and Quidditch held sway until chocolate time. Of course Harry was asked for another story, but he declined asking Draco to tell one instead.



“When Damien was a young kid,” he started. “Younger than you lot! His father was a well respected member of the community, so everyone though that Damien would be well looked after. Not so! In order to keep up appearances of great wealth, his father was a skinflint at home. Damien was denied many things that he really needed.”



“My dad was an old skinflint too,” someone added.



“Then you’ll know the feeling. Not knowing better, and kept away from others of his own age, Damien followed his father’s lead and developed a pose of his own perfect superiority. In reality it kept in check his own feelings of hopelessness. Like Garry he looked forward to coming to Hogwarts, knowing that he’d have more freedom there, and might just make friends with someone who could lead him into wild adventures; in complete contrast to his stuffy home-life.”



“We had wild adventures today!” came as voice, followed by cheers.



“Exactly what Damien hoped would happen, but they were not to be. On that first train ride Damien scouted round until he found the ideal person, hoping that it would get him out of his rut. Only he found it difficult to approach him. At last whilst they were waiting to be sorted. You all remember that, don’t you?”



“OH YES!” they breathed.



Just there, at the top of the stairs, Damien offered his hand in friendship, but the dirty Rotter refused to shake hands. So Damien was back where he started.” Draco looked hurt.



“OH NO!”



“Yes! This other guy was so full of himself, swell-headed wasn’t the word.” Draco made big-head gestures and pulled a face. The audience giggled. “He had people fawning all over him all the time. Damien tried to pull him down a peg or two. You know! the usual thing; getting him to chase you with something you had of his, that kind of caper. The Rotter had no sense of humour and snatched the ball back, swearing at Damien. From then on things went from bad to worse. Progressing from name calling, to scuffles in dark places, to almost open warfare. The Rotter and his gang made poor Damien’s life hell,”



“I was bullied like that, at my first school,” came from among the audience.



“Damien was harried by all kinds of people, even his own father turned against him, but he managed to cling to some of his self esteem; it was the only thing that kept him going. As you know, quite recently we had a war in which Voldemort was defeated. During that, the bad lot captured Damien and subjected him to terrible torture.”



Harry conjured up an image of a medieval torture chamber, unsure what Draco might reveal.



“The things they did were cruel and horrendous, eventually, at the end of the excruciating experience, Damien passed out completely.”



The image now turned into a bloody corpse on the rack, which caused the audience to groan.



“He must have been rescued,” Draco continued, “because he woke up in bed in an unfamiliar room. ‘Where am I,’ he asked. ‘In my house,’ was the answer. Damien looked at the person and then quailed, because it was the Rotter towering over him.”



“Did the Rotter hurt him?” the girl’s voice had a slight sob in it.



“Well … Now … No! Much to Damien’s surprise the Rotter was kind, feeding him personally, helping to heal him as well. Because of that, despite their bad beginnings, Damien and the Rotter became very firm friends. That friendship blossomed until they became partners and, because of that, had special magical qualities conferred on them.”



“Are you saying that the Rotter was our DADA Professor?”



“Would I say that? As Harry said last time, a part of this story is fictional and some of it is true. It’s up to you to sort out the moral, I don’t spoon feed you with answers, do I?”



Again the buzz started. Some of the more bloodthirsty wanted Draco to tell of the actual tortures, but he declined; smiling at Harry instead. It was half-past ten before the room began to empty. Draco went along to make sure no one misbehaved.



“Did you really swear at him, Professor?” Peter asked Harry.



“I sometimes still do. But that’s what a true partner can do. His other half knows to make allowances. It works the other way round, too. Draco has a very sharp tongue.”



“Yes I know!” was Peter’s reply, “I got told off for mucking up my potion, this week.”



“Can you prepare the potion properly now?”



“Oh yes! I worked in the evening and showed it to him the following morning. He was so pleased; he gave me my points back and then added more for extra application, so he said.”



“So it was worth the effort then?”



“You bet! I’ll also be more careful in his lessons from now on, too.”



Ernie and Lavender returned just before the seniors turned in.



“She’d broken her thigh. It was a simple fracture, so we set it correctly, put it in splints and John’s taken her to Great Grumblewell hospital.” Lavender reported.



Harry and Draco retired to their room, only to find Dean and Seamus waiting there.



“Thanks for the tip off. We’ve agreed with the girls what we can do. We made peace too about the purchase,” observed Dean, smiling.



“We persuaded Ernie ter give us some more oil. How about a tag team match? Watching all this skirmishing today has really got us in the mood.” Seamus was leering at them.



“Tag team match; what’s that?” Draco looked puzzled.



“I’ve seen it on TV at Uncle’s. Wrestling in teams; there is only one partner allowed in the ring at any one time, but it soon degenerates in to an all-in as the referee has difficulty keeping control.” Harry explained, grinning hopefully.



“Can’t be much of a referee then,” Draco sneered.



“That does it!” Harry grabbed Draco and held him down. The other two quickly removed all of Draco’s clothes and had a little play until he was hard.



“Perhaps now you understand how difficult it is to keep control?” Seamus asked, getting undressed.



Dean, who was already naked, took over Harry’s place sitting on Draco’s chest and fingering his finial. For some reason Draco didn’t squirm too hard, perhaps it was Dean’s different technique, or perhaps it was concentrating on trying to tongue the brown lollipop bobbing in front of him.



“Hey you two! This is supposed to be a contest, not a love-in.” Harry spoke in jest as his own accomplishment rose to full grandeur.



In reply, Seamus grabbed Harry, trying to penetrate him. He failed and the struggling pair managed to knock into the other two. Dislodged, Dean went to hold Harry down and started to interfere with him whilst Seamus held Harry\'s hands. Draco recovered quickly and went behind Seamus intent of pulling him off. Two squeals interrupted the proceedings.



“Masters, you forgot the oil.” Phealey stood there with a plastic bottle in hand.



He aimed at Harry’s prick and squeezed, Dean’s gripping hand slipped off, incidentally energising Harry’s sensitised glans; so he bucked and gasped. Pullet’s bottle was aimed in Seamus’s direction, but instead of slipping off Draco used the lubricant to massage the Irishman’s man.



“What … Are … The … Rules?” Seamus asked, in between gasps at Draco’s effectiveness.



“First to cum gets fucked three times.” Draco suggested, with Seamus nearing the point of no return.



“Not … Fair … Oh … Oh … Ooh … Ah-h-h-h-h-h-h!”



Dean had regained his hold on Potter’s penis, holding Harry’s head in a stranglehold. Harry did not know whether to try to protect his jewels, or to pry the vice-like grip on his windpipe. The need to breathe overcame any other consideration, levering Dean’s arm away from his throat, Harry gasped.



“Ooh … Ooh … Ah … Ah … Ee-ee-ee-ee-ew.” Harry was out of it for a couple of minutes, dribbling cream from his cock and taking in oxygen.



That gave two partners time to overcome Draco. He lay there gritting his teeth trying not to succumb to Seamus’s oscillating digits and Dean’s exploring fingers. Dean found what he was looking for and stroked.



“Oh No-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!” Draco arched up under the double thrill, squirting high into the air and going red all over with passion.



“Looks like I get three fucks,” said Dean gloatingly. “Harry you have to give twice come here.”



“Doggy or on my back?”



“Doggy over the bed, please.”



“I’ll have Seamus the same way,” averred Draco.



So, holding hands, Harry and Seamus draped themselves over the bed, spreading their legs seductively. Harry wondered if Dean would feel different from Draco. Once his prostate was being caressed, Harry forgot about comparisons and set about enjoying the sensations. Dean was considerate and used his hands to great effect on the Potter protrusion. The noises from the couple next door seemed to suggest the same conclusion. Somehow Dean managed to hold off until Seamus started to make little grunts. That was the signal to all of them, a grand simultaneous sexy splurge shot forth, leaving them all gasping.



As they lay there, Pullet piped up. “Masters, why not leave the other two shags until tomorrow evening. I don’t know about you, but we’ve had two goes and we’re a bit worn out.”



The masters looked over, seeing Pullet still engaged inside Phealey.



Dean wiggled on top of Harry, still entrapped. “What do you think?”



From the same position on Seamus, Draco answered for their partnership. “Good idea dear elfins. We’ll do just that; it’ll finish off the weekend nicely. Besides, it’s just going midnight.”



For fun, each top gave a thrust as the church clock struck. Then giggling, after the dozen bongs, they rolled off their recipients.



The whole group spelled the oil away from the bathroom floor and partook of a communal squashy shower, four humans even finding enough room for two elves. Only in bed afterwards did Harry manage to relate to Draco, his conversation with Peter.



“Mmm, that was nice. I think he’s after my job.” A smiling Draco fell asleep in Harry\'s arms.