Chapter Text
Chapter 1
He hadn’t realised who the short, scrawny boy with the wild dark curls was. He’d assumed he was just a Muggle born, given he clearly didn’t know how to access platform 9 ¾. If he had wondered why the boy was alone, it would have just been a passing thought as he and Fred ran towards the barrier, leaving their mother to help the boy.
He had then helped the boy with his trunk, hefting it onto the train and catching his eye as the boy thanked him shyly. The eyes were what stayed with George for longer than any other impression of the boy. Vibrantly green. A brighter green than the grass of the hills passing outside the window of the train, which George caught himself looking at from time to time. But even that impression faded as he got caught up in joking with Fred and Lee.
The next time he had seen the boy was when Fred had mockingly pointed at the troop of First Years as they entered the Great Hall.
“Oooh, look at the ickle firsties, Georgie! They’re so tiny!”
George glanced across the hall. It was his younger brother he saw first, a good couple of inches taller than most of his peers. He smirked to himself at the nervous look on his brother’s face. He clearly still believed the story he and Fred had peddled him about wrestling a troll. Next to him, and listening as his brother spoke to him, was the dark haired boy, now dressed in his uniform, which somehow already looked dishevelled. He was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes sparking with wonder, their green intensity clear from even that distance. George found himself idly wondering whether he would be sorted into Gryffindor.
George had forgotten that Harry Potter was due to start this year. He didn’t remember until the name was called out and the hall suddenly went completely silent.
“Potter, Harry!” was still echoing around the hall as the dark haired boy nervously approached the stool.
“Blimey, Georgie!” his brother whispered to him. “I’d forgotten Harry Potter was starting this year. Isn’t that the kid we saw at the station?”
George nodded, but kept silent as the Sorting Hat was placed on his head. The whispers which had started when his name had been called again went silent as the school waited expectantly.
And waited.
The whispers started again as the time passed. This was the longest sorting George could remember, though this was only his third. Then finally
“Gryffindor!”
The Gryffindor table erupted, Fred banging the table and whooping next to him. George just watched the Potter boy shyly approach the table and sit next to his youngest brother.
The Sorting was soon over, the feast commenced and George was soon distracted away from Harry Potter by the plans being hatched for the coming year.
In fact, he didn’t really think any more about Harry until he and Fred bumped into Wood a few weeks later. He had seen him here and there, invariably with Ron, but had not exchanged a word or even a glance with him.
“Fred! George! You will never believe what McGonagall has just gone and done!” Wood excitedly approached them.
“Shown you her knickers?” Fred suggested.
“Propositioned you in an abandoned classroom?” George quickly followed.
Wood ignored them. “She’s only gone and ordered me to make Harry bloody Potter the team’s Seeker!”
“But he’s a First Year!” Fred objected.
“Apparently, she saw him catch something at full speed, fifty feet in the air during his first flying lesson. His first flying lesson and first time on a broom!”
“Bloody Hell!” Fred and George had both responded.
“This is our year. I can just feel it!” Wood had excitedly exclaimed, before muttering about strategies and wondering off.
During their first team practice, a few days later, George had not been the only one distracted by Harry. The whole team had been intrigued to see whether he lived up to the hype. He did. It was impossible that he could have had so little experience on a broom, surely? There was natural talent – something which someone like Wood had – and then the kind of talent that was beyond that. Almost as if he had been born on a broom and never allowed off of one.
Again, George then lost himself from thoughts of Harry as Wood screamed at him to concentrate and practice had continued.
“I wonder what little Harry’s wand is like, Georgie,” Fred had slyly speculated as they trudged off the field towards the changing rooms. “He’s a scrawny little thing, but he’s got figuratively massive balls judging from his flying. Don’t tell me you haven’t wondered whether the real things measure up?”
George shoved his brother with his shoulder.
“What?! I’m wondering and I am not even attracted to boys!” Fred protested.
“He’s a First Year!”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t take a peek! I’m not suggesting you force yourself on him. I’m going to have a look! I mean, we all compare, right? I bet you can’t wait to see if Wood has grown any more since last year!” Fred teased, knowing that his brother had a crush on the intense Fifth Year.
George felt that it was his brother’s fault for even suggesting it. That was why he had found himself glancing towards the short First Year as they showered. That was why George had chosen the shower next to his. He’d already got his fill of Wood’s impressive physique as they had undressed. He’d clearly grown a few inches in height over the summer and had been working out. It had taken all George’s self-control not to pop a boner as Wood had removed his top and he’d caught sight of his six pack. The curls of hair leading down from his belly button were also new. George had been able to more or less memorise Wood’s body given the boy showed no embarrassment in it and would often stand naked chatting and walk naked between changing room and shower. Wood had then removed his shorts and underwear. His bush of dark curls had expanded across his groin over the summer, thick and untamed. The penis which protruded out looked a little longer. George’s best guess was that it was 10 or 11 cm long and very thick.
So, yes, he had already refreshed that image for his wank bank. The slim, toned boy of last year now grown into a young man with the first promise of a broad muscular chest and well developed six pack.
The contrast with the boy next to him was stark. Harry looked younger than his 11 years. As short as a boy a couple of years younger. Rake thin, with ribs jutting out even after a few weeks of the school’s excellent food.
He must have been even skinnier before. How’s that even possible?
His skin of his chest and stomach was milky white, his belly button an outie. George took this all in as his eyes wondered down to the undeveloped groin. No signs of puberty at all, his testicles bunched up in his scrotum. Harry’s penis was surprisingly long, however, for a boy who had not yet started puberty. George felt his eyes widen as he looked at it. It looked about the same size as his and Fred’s own. Theirs had grown in length over the course of the last year and a bit as puberty had taken its toll. 7.5cm long at last measurement. They had not yet started to thicken, though the patches of ginger curls on either side of their penises had become small bushes over the course of the summer.
This inventory of Harry’s body had taken less than ten seconds and yet
“You want to take a picture, Georgie? Might last a little longer!” Fred had whispered wickedly in his ear as he walked by.
“Alright Harry!” he had then said as he wondered towards the changing rooms. “Amazing flying today, you’re going to be a real asset to the team!”
“Thanks, Fred,” Harry had replied quietly with a slight blush.
It was only later that George had realised that he’d been able to distinguish between him and his brother, something their own mother had often struggled with.
But that thought was really the only further time he had found himself thinking about Harry for weeks. The curiosity aroused by his brother’s teasing speculation about Harry’s ‘wand’ had been satisfied and, really, what else was there to make him think of the younger boy?
He and Fred would still see him in the Common Room, or in the corridors, Ron at his side and then, after Halloween with the clever, bushy-haired girl. He had, of course, heard about the troll, but bringing that up would mean celebrating his younger brother’s victory as well, which George was loathe to do.
Aside from that and practices, there really had not been any cause to think about him at all until their first match. Even then, his attention had only been drawn away from his own role in the team by the bizarre behaviour of Harry’s broom, which appeared as though it was trying to throw him off. But then the broom had calmed down and Harry had promptly caught the Snitch, the whole team celebrating with him.
Fred had made some innuendo laden joke about Harry’s mouth skills, aiming a leery wink at George, but then he was always making innuendo-laden jokes.
Again, Harry had slipped out of view and out of his thoughts entirely. Christmas came and went, practices, lessons, matches, pranks, detentions, more pranks and time passed.
The next time his attention is caught by Harry is when he, Ron and Hermione manage to get 150 points deducted from Gryffindor. The whole house is livid and George can’t help but join in with the anger, though he finds himself feeling a little for the boy as the opprobrium lands on him.
Then his brother and Harry end up in the infirmary. Rumours swirl around the school. Impossible stories of three headed dogs, giant chess sets and, most implausible of all, of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. George and his brothers visit Ron in the sick bay and he confirms the truth of the rumours about the dog and the chess set. Only the boy lying unconscious in the bed next to him can confirm the rest.
Term ends with the surprise addition of points to Gryffindor for the exploits of the First Years. It is only when they are all back home at the Burrow that Ron tells him and Fred about what Harry faced.
And, after that, George finds himself thinking more and more about the small boy with the untamed curls and verdant green eyes.