Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Mediocrity	By : Redkenja Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 40273 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 14
Disclaimer: I do not own nor make money off of JKR's Harry Potter

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Here is the sixth chapter, let me know what you think! Hopefully this is more on par with the first three.

A day at the Weasley house started early, certainly not the earliest for Harry, but early enough that no one else except for Mrs. Weasley was truly awake. Not even her husband was fully cognizant unless he has at least one cup of coffee in him, though he didn't normally get up as early as his wife.

However, it was the best time to work. This was the most dependably calmest time at the Burrow, including the night where occasional explosions and night terrors did interrupt a little more occasional than most would like. Just before the sun rose, the household seemed to settle into a peaceful existence, that is, until Mrs. Weasley woke up to begin her comparatively leisurely morning routine of making breakfast. At this time, no one would be causing trouble or crying or asking for one thousand and one things of which only a few were allowed.

Really, what would the twins need a beaver carcass for?

Clearly this was Mrs. Weasley's favorite time of day. No husband. No children. No guests. Only the chirping crickets and the chickens clucking merrily to her as she cooked a grand breakfast every day for her family to enjoy.

It was also Harry's favorite time. No one harassed him either and he could complete his chores in peace as only Aunt Petunia was awake usually. After setting him to work, she tended to curl up on the awful floral-print couch with her latest trashy romance novel instead of watching over him. She rarely stayed after giving him the breakfast details.

As his wont, Harry was ready and awake when the matriarch entered the kitchen. She was surprised to see Harry sitting on the floor of the tiny porch leading to the backyard. The craggy stonework, scuffed from years of footsteps, was only a little wider than the narrow back door leading to it and slightly damp with little pools of morning dew in the pits. He had not dared to touch a thing. Despite living in the household for a very short time the previous summer, he didn't know the rules or habits just yet.

"Sweet pea!" she exclaimed upon seeing him through the open door.

Apparently Harry had another nickname.

'Though, perhaps this is one I can enjoy,' the young boy thought wistfully, reminded of the many cruel ones he had from both the Wizarding World and the Muggle World.

He turned from the peaking sunrise and the clucking chickens to face the older woman.

"Yes Mrs. Weasley?" he asked.

"Dear, I won't tell you again!" she smiled at the polite child, if only hers could be the same. "Call me mum if you don't mind, or Molly!"

Harry blushed. This was a complicated topic. The word Mother meant so much entailed so much. He remained silent, only moving to enter the kitchen and to close the door.

Mrs. Weasley began charming dishes and foods as if they hadn't spoken, understanding that it wasn't the time yet. Humming softly, she started the mixes for muffins, biscuits, and that night's dessert as frying pans warmed up. Soon the scent of cinnamon muffins and bacon slices was wafting through the towering home. Without words, the young boy set the table and started both the large tea pot and the small coffee pot for Mr. Weasley's morning cup. The two worked in silence, enjoying the calm before the ruckus of the day.

The sun was halfway up when Mrs. Weasley sat at the large kitchen table and patted the seat next to her. Quietly Harry sat next to her. With a small wave of her wand, the matriarch levitated a tray filled with cinnamon muffins and a small white pot hidden in a cupboard Harry rarely saw anyone get into. They clinked gently onto the table.

"The first muffins to us, sweet pea," she said setting two onto a small plate.

"It is a tradition passed down my side of the family. Whoever is up and helping this early in the morning deserves something special," Mrs. Weasley absentmindedly hummed as she spread a sweet smelling white cream from the little pot over the top of a muffin. She passed this one to Harry and sent the pot away.

Harry hesitantly took it, the sweet scent very familiar to him. Cream cheese frosting. It was something he had made plenty of times for the Dursleys but as usual, something he had never tasted.

"Go ahead dear, I made the frosting just the other day."

"Won't you have any?" he questioned.

She merely smiled.

Harry turned to look at the muffin. It made him smile, an action that was becoming quite frequent the last few weeks. He took a bite and flavor exploded across his mouth. The cream had melted slightly where it touched the still warm muffin, cinnamon meeting the almost sickeningly sweet substance. Fluffy and smooth textures assaulted his sense. If it was possible, his smile widened through the small mouthful of muffin.

This was a good tradition. One he wanted to have in his own home someday.

It was heavier than what he was used to, though perhaps just as delicious as any of the fruits he had eaten since going to the Leaky Cauldron. The sweet bread filled his stomach quickly.

The two ate their muffins in silence, Mrs. Weasley occasionally swishing her wand to finish cooking the massive amounts of food that would soon feed her brood. By the time the food had finished cooking and was either on the table waiting to be eaten or sitting on the counters, Hermione had joined the duo.

Silently she prepared and then proceeded to drink a steaming cup of tea.

With a muttered tempus and a great sigh, the matriarch stood and went to the foot of the stairs. Another wave of her wand and loud bells began to ring throughout the Burrow. Crashes and curses filled the air as thumps thundered and doors slammed from all levels of the home. No more than five minutes passed before the twins and Ginny were stomping down the stairs.

All three stumbled their way to the large kitchen table. Not even waiting for the rest of the family to show up, they began to pile their plates high with bacon, eggs, and the other foods that had been prepared. The only thing they didn't touch were the muffins. Despite eying them through hooded and crusty lids, they didn't reach for them or their already loaded plates.

Mr. Weasley came down fully dressed not long after the trio had filled their plates, his youngest son trailing behind. The peace previously held barely ten minutes ago was broken with the clattering of dishes, snuffling, and bleary groans. Scrapes and grunts also filled the air as food was eaten as soon as the patriarch stepped into the kitchen, bodies hovering over plates to prevent others from filching the delectable food. Once a plate was completely cleared, more food was snatched and piled onto the ceramic dish.

"Good morning my beautiful Molly-wobbles!" crooned Mr. Weasley, slightly unsteady as he passed his wife at the little island counter they had put in a year ago.

Blushing, she swatted half-heartedly at her teetering husband.

"Go eat you fool," she chuckled lovingly, leaning against to cool wood to watch her family and guests enjoy themselves.

Mr. Weasley took his seat at the head of the table and filled his plate, placing a single-and apparently quite coveted- muffin on his plate. Once his hand picked up his fork, it was as if he had given a silent queue for the rest of the Weasleys at the table launched themselves violently at the platter. As the hands cleared, only two remained of the coveted muffins remained.

Moments later a loud crunch interjected in between the noises of chewing and irritated mumbles. Harry and Hermione were the only two to jump. The rest were too used to this particular morning ritual to react.

Mrs. Weasley, still standing at the island counter, made her way over to the kitchen sink, satisfied no one was in need of anything and that all wandering hands were safe from forks. Above the sink was the ruffled form of Errol perching on the window sill. The old owl hadn't noticed the window was closed as he tried to do his duties. Rarely did he have to deliver more than Daily Prophet at his age, but he wasn't quite ready for retirement just yet. Anytime words about getting a new owl were spoken, the bird always appeared at the nearest window, hooting and glaring.

Opening the window, the mother of seven reached out to bring Errol in. She went to the table to snag a treat for the faithful owl. Passing a piece of bacon to the greyed form, Mrs. Weasley unrolled the paper and glanced at the headlines. With an eye-roll and a small huff, she passed it to her husband.

"Seems like Rita got a hold of where Harry is staying, how that wretched woman did I would love to find out," she growled.

Mr. Weasley merely raised a bushy brow towards his thinning hairline. He read the article that had his wife upset.

"Is she even allowed to print that?" questioned the finally coherent Hermione, upset at the thought of her friends being harassed. "This has to be endangering a minor!"

"The Prophet does what it will to make a profit Hermione. They do say that Harry is staying here but they don't know why, they only have speculation that go, as usual, to the downright strange," replied the preoccupied father.

"Is t-there a way to st-op it?" Harry asked, looking between the paper and the elderly Weasleys. He had been sitting quietly at the dining table, sipping tea as the rest ate.

"If we had the clout, Harry, it wouldn't even happen," growled out George sleepily. A bit of egg clung to the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah, little brother-" started Fred.

"-you need lots of money-

"-and fame-"

"-political power helps too-"

"-but you have to know-"

"-how to use it too-"

"-just so you know."

Finished, the twins turned their bleary eyes back to their empty plates. Confused, they looked at each other and about before filling their plates for the third time. By now, the twins were scrapping the bottoms of the serving dishes. In the Weasley household, not a morsel was wasted.

Harry sighed. While he had never thought about it before, the fact that he was in the papers should be considered alright. Someone should have stopped. Another thing to ask the goblins about the next time he wrote a letter to them.

A quite chiming wandered in through the door. The clock in the living room across the hall was chirping to alert the family of the time. Just as it gave its last note, Mr. Weasley wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood.

"Alright children, listen to mother and be good!" the man eyed the twins suspiciously.

With a smile he kissed his wife and murmured something in her ear, causing the woman to blush a bright red. Upon hearing the giggles from Ginny and the gagging noises from the twins, she scowled and playfully hit her husband with the dishrag hanging from her apron pocket.

"Get out of here before you are late!" she said, a scowl threatened with a smile on her face.

Nearly five minutes after he left the clock chimed, alerting the household that it was now eight in the morning. It was also a signal for the young Weasleys to begin cleaning the kitchen. When Harry and Hermione moved to help, Mrs. Weasleys called the boy back.

"Harry, sweet pea, it is their turn to work. We fed them, so they get to clean. Why don't you go and get cleaned up?" she suggested.

In an hour, Remus and Sirius had promised to have one of two daily visits. After a long conversation yesterday between the couple and the pack, it was decided that it would be safer for Harry to stay at the Burrow until the majority of the repairs at Grimmauld were done. Part of the agreement was that twice every day, the two men would visit to give Harry his potions and to spend time with him, speaking to him about anything from progress made to trivial things like how Sirius should style his hair the next day.

Harry nodded. He needed to wash the potion out of his hair. Sirius and Harry had decided to continue the cosmetic potions, if only to rub their turn of luck into the noses of those against them. Though for Harry, it was also to ensure that he could look as good as he possibly could for his future mates. Appearance is one of the many aspects of mating, the only one Harry felt that he could at least change for himself. Other than his fortune and fame, Harry believed the looks the potions produced would be the only positive features to make himself attractive.

Still in a daze, Harry went through the motions of cleaning himself. The hot shower helped to relax him slightly. However, as soon as he stepped out of the steamy bath, he could hear Sirius and Remus in the kitchen with the Weasley matriarch. Tension returned to him immediately, filling his stomach with a cold ball of anxiety.

Quickly he dressed and exited the bathroom to make his way downstairs.

He was correct. The duo was sitting at the table, cleaned of the breakfast mess, with two steaming tea cups untouched in front of them. Remus had a worn leather bag on his shoulder, which he held a protective arm over. The man noticed him immediately, most likely hearing his descent down the stairs.

"Pup!" he greeted warmly.

"Remmy!" Harry shuffled up to Remus. His mind was on that bag. It had to contain the potions, the syringe, everything. He would be in pain again, but he would be better for it. But the pain, oh the pain he would be feeling soon.

"Pup, Molly says we can do this in her room so you can rest undisturbed," Sirius soothingly. Unsaid went the fact that there were permanent silencing charms round the room to prevent noises within traveling through the full home and that most noises were blocked from resonating into the room. It also had it's own attached bathroom and was on the second floor so Harry wouldn't have to move far if he found it necessary. They didn't yet know how consistently the regimen affected Harry, some of the reactions he had may have been a onetime thing or may not yet have appeared.

The first morning rounds were painful the previous day and had knocked him out like the night before. It was all the older men could do but to hope that the pain would at least be reduced with every dosage given to the young boy.

"O-ok," the abused child replied.

"Pup," Sirius cooed. He swept him up into a hug, careful to not squeeze too hard.

Remus placed a large, warm hand on Harry's tiny shoulder and nuzzled the boy's head. He would give anything to take away the pain his pack mates felt.

A throat cleared itself.

"We should get started. The boys and girls will be running about soon. I think its best we get tucked away so they don't press," suggested Mrs. Weasley.

"Of course Molly," replied Remus, his heart clenching at knowing what was soon to happen.

Carefully he ushered the other two to follow her up the stairs. She led them to the master bedroom, a carefully cleaned room ready for Harry to have the potions applied. Looking at the men, Molly knew she wouldn't be welcomed, not that she could bear to even listen to the pain the tiny boy would undoubtedly be in. They were looking down, unable to meet her gaze or speak, Harry hiding his face in Sirius's black hair.

She decided to act first instead of delaying anymore. Harry shouldn't be left waiting in fear.

"I'll go make sure the house stays in one piece so you can work undisturbed. Doubtless the twins have already caused trouble," Mrs. Weasley bustled about her room a little, adjusting a few personal items as she made her way to the hall. "Just let me know if you have need for anything!"

"Thank you Molly," Sirius whispered.

The woman heard him perfectly but didn't say a word. There wasn't anything that shoe could say so she left. Quietly she shut the door and the spell work activated itself.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Remus cleared his throat and set the leather bag down on the nightstand next to the bed. He then folded the bedding down and carefully pried their beloved pup from his best friend's arms. A short battle of growls and glares ensued as the other man didn't want to release the child he had not been able to raise. After baring his yellowed teeth, Remus won the fight. Gently, he sat Harry on the bed as if he and Sirius hadn't just battled wills against each other.

Quickly he undressed his pup, noting that the needle marks were still visible. At least they would make his job a little easier so that he wouldn't have to keep checking the chart Gwen had given the pack.

"You are looking much better already Harry!" he quietly exclaimed.

Harry gave a watery grin in reply.

"Of course he does! He has the blood of a Black within him, as if we ever look anything but perfect!" crowed Sirius, sidling up closer to the pale child.

"B-but I'm a Potter!" said Harry, unsure.

"That you are Pup! And your Grandmother was a Black," Padfoot tapped the tip of Harry's nose. The child crinkled his nose and blinked.

"So your my cousin?" he asked.

"Nope!" Sirius popped. "You're my godson!"

He lightly ran his fingers over Harry's side. A loud shriek wrenched itself from Harry vocal cords and turned into laughing as the squirming boy was tickled for the first time he could remember in his short life.

"Look Moony, look!" grinned Sirius. "He's still ticklish!"

"Padfoot," the other man raised a brow, holding Harry's medicines in two hands as he headed towards the bed.

"Oh fine," Sirius sighed, giving Harry one last poke in the side, who was gasping. Rosy cheeks immediately went pale as he saw what was making it's way towards him. Remus had only one syringe in his hands, meaning it would take longer.

Sirius noticed his gaze.

"I can't do it Pup, I can't cause you pain, not anymore," he whispered, staring at the boy. His pupils dilated and his fingers twitched. His boy would be in pain soon, pain he couldn't stop. Pain he was causing.

"Sirius!"

It was like a smack to his face. No one had said his name like that in thirteen years.

"Sirius, why don't you apply Harry's other potions as I work?" Remus suggested.

The trio didn't speak as Remus set his supplies down and tossed a few tubs and vials to Sirius, tension mounting once more. As soon as they men were ready, they each gave Harry a gentle kiss to his forehead and a light hug. Harry shivered in anticipation, the cold ball of anxiety weighing heavily in his stomach. He was cold but warm, ready to puke and wanting everything to be over with. Sometimes Harry Potter wished he wasn't a Gryffindor.

Glinting in the light, the syringe mocked him as Remus picked it up. It was already filled with the first of many doses that were to be injected into his body at every joint. The potion cocktail would feel like ice and fire, causing pain that so far led to his fainting. It would make him ache like an old man in the cold but in the end it would make him better, healthier, and perhaps taller.

Remus brought the needle to the boys head first, starting there so that Sirius could work after him, applying the many cosmetic potions Harry had been prescribed. Carefully, he stuck the needle into all the tiny red dots the last injections had left behind, ones that only he and those with supernatural sight could see. At every spot, he sterilized the sight and after every painful injection the needle was sterilized.

By the third shot, Harry was gasping and crying in pain. He was cross-eyed and in his own world surrounded by pain. Meticulously the duo worked as quickly as they could but making sure they kept Harry safe.

For his future, Remus thought every time he stuck his pup, eyes bright and jaw clenched.

For his future, Sirius anguished silently as he rubbed cream into the tiny bloodspots mechanically.

A high pitched screech stopped them. Frozen, they watched harry gasp and seize at the shots to his hips. Carefully, Remus removed the needle and set it on the nightstand. He kneeled next to the bed so that he could gently cuddle the distraught boy. Harry couldn't catch his breath, he could not see or focus on feeling the warmth of his pack mate holding him close, and he could not feel the hot tears dripping onto his neck.

"Hush my pup," cooed Remus. Slowly, he began to rock the boy trying to calm him. At this rate Harry would hyperventilate and pass out. Gwen had warned them that they needed to calm Harry down before that happened. The damages that could cause wouldn't be easily fixed at all.

"Hush my sweet puppy," he cooed again. Remus began to hum as best he could, his voice catching and tears burning their way down his face.

As he tried to calm his pup down, his focus on the cub, he never noticed his friend kneeling on the bed where he was. Sirius was staring at his pack mates but not seeing them. Instead, memories of his own smiling brother, memories of his brother in pain blurred his sight. Seconds of clarity mingled with the painful memories.

He should be helping his pup. He should be helping his pup. His PUP!

But he couldn't, he didn't. For thirteen years.

His pup was hurting. His brother was dead. His pup was in pain. He didn't know where his brother was. His mother was gone, just like Prongs and Lily-flower.

Remus was here.

So was Harry.

They were here, they were his pack. But they were in pain.

Remus was crying, he never cried.

Harry couldn't breathe.

He couldn't breathe and Remus was crying.

"It's alright," Sirius said breathily.

He couldn't think. Not clearly at least, but that was alright.

They were his family, his pack. That was all they needed.

"It's alright," he said again and leaned forward to hug them practically falling over them.

"Just breathe," the air tickled his lips and he could almost see it splashing their faces.

Harry hiccupped. He was calming down. Good.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut, a few final tears were wrung out in the process.

"Just breathe," and Harry opened his eyes to stare at his godfather the best he could with his own tears still flooding the bloodshot eyes.

Sirius stared back and took slow breathes if only to get his own body under control again. Harry matched him. They took breath after breath in synch.

They maintained eye contact as the adults sat back. Sirius didn't need to watch were his hands were going as he applied the potions. They knew what they were doing. Gently they continued their task as he stared into the emerald gems that were his pup's eyes. Tears still leaked out of them as Remus continued giving injections. Not even when Harry was flipped over for the most painful shots did they lose eye contact.

Harry was going to have gorgeous, thick hair.

His skin would be soft. It would glow.

Harry would have minty breath and pearly white teeth.

They would be whiter than Lockheart's.

Sirius knew this because he was the one who carefully applied the potions to make it so.

Harry was going to be beautiful.

He was going to have wonderful mates.

Sirius would make sure of it. His beautiful Harry deserved it.

Thirteen years apart, thirteen years of pain.

He would give his little pup the best even if it killed him.

Even if he was sent back to Azkaban.

As you can see, towards the end it focused a little more on Sirius as requested. And just so you know, this is also posted on FF.net and will eventually diverge slightly to keep the story within their regs. This will be the more explicit side in a few chapters. You can look there as usually that sight is updated first. AFF is a new posting site for me.

-Red
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Mediocrity