Unexpected Perks

by darsynia

Notes: Created for hp_springsmut as a gift for lrthunder.
Set during Goblet of Fire. Warning: Voyeurism. Written 3/03/08.


Ever since Cedric gave him the password for the Prefects' bathroom, Harry Potter had been obsessed with the place. The bath itself had been amazing (even with the twin distractions of Myrtle and the golden egg), and when he'd succumbed to his curiosity about whether the password still worked a few days later, he'd been pleasantly surprised to see that it did. That was when Harry had discovered that the expected perks of access to the prefects' private bathroom weren't really as interesting as its unexpected perks--one in particular.

Cho Chang was a Ravenclaw prefect.

She was also, it had turned out, quite fond of baths. Harry discovered this fact entirely by accident after a frustrating session on the outskirts of school grounds with Hermione and Ron. Hermione had spent most of the time tossing some really nasty spells his way (most of which, he'd pointed out to no avail, couldn't possibly be used underwater), and he was battered, dirty, and very much in need of a bath. He stumbled into the Prefects' bathroom, bone-weary and moving very slowly, a fact that saved him much embarrassment and provided him with the most erotic image he'd ever seen in his life.

The second he crossed the threshold, a rich, spicy scent tickled his senses, and Harry shut his eyes and stepped forward, allowing the door to close softly behind him. His tension seemed to simply ease away, bit by bit, and for a long moment, Harry wondered how bad an idea it would be to just bunch up some towels and take a nap, right there. It was tempting. The longer he spent in the room, however, the more aware he became of his surroundings--and suddenly, a breathy gasp cut through his languor, shooting his veins through with adrenaline.

Harry opened his eyes, and there in front of him in the oversized bath was Cho Chang. Harry immediately found it very difficult to breathe, both from pleased shock, as well as fear that she might hear him. Cho was faced away from him, her long silky hair cushioning her head where her neck pressed against the edge of the tub. Soft clouds of bubbles had migrated to where her sleek body cut through the water, the length of which was lifted impossibly high as if she were pushing herself up, almost floating. Harry felt a line of tightness forming in his gut that marched lower, following a cluster of lather that started to slide down the curve of one breast, exposing a dusky nipple. He watched as the hand that had been gripping the smooth edge of the bath slipped down into the water before reappearing at her stomach dusted with suds, causing the heated water to ripple around it. She was mesmerizing... beautiful... sensual. He didn't consider leaving for longer than a microsecond, wrong as it felt to watch such a private moment.

Harry gasped at the same moment as Cho let out a low moan that covered the sound; her delicate fingers were rubbing slow circles down her abdomen as she raised her body to meet them. Harry told himself to look away, but his mind wasn't working and his body was doing the thinking for him. He watched, helplessly turned on by the way her lower leg lifted out of the water when she arched her back, taut as a bowstring, all of her energy and focus centered on where her hand dipped between her thighs. She moved it faster, and it was all Harry could do to stop himself from sliding his own hand down to ease the yearning that flared at his groin.

When Cho tossed her head back further, pushing her shoulders against the edge of the tub, his breath caught, terrified that she'd see him, but she just sighed brokenly, as though the sound was being ripped from her throat. Harry found that he'd started to match his breathing to the steady flick of her wrist, the soft sway of her breasts. When her hand started to glide up her torso, leaving a trail of bubbles that curved sweetly when she circled a taut nipple, Harry felt a pull of desire so strong he couldn't prevent himself from pushing the heel of his hand down firmly over the front of his too-tight pants. Pleasure-pain tingled everywhere, mingling with the ever-present flush of fear, of wrongness.

The air in the room seemed to grow thicker, warmer, as Cho's body rocked, frantic now, a keening moan breaking from her lips. Harry's hand clutched desperately at the wall near the doorway, the pull of lust so strong that he felt as overwhelmed as if Cho's hands were moving on him instead. Harry could hear her rough pants for breath; saw the way her toes curled on the leg she held so tensely out of the water. Suddenly, finally, blissfully, she threw her head back again, trails of her dark silken hair fanning out from her face--and that was the moment. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her body glistening with water, sweat, and soap, lips red from--god, probably from biting them to keep from screaming, open and gasping.

Harry wanted to keep watching, wanted to touch himself as he watched, to move his hands in time with her hand as it clenched and released, slid and shook. Sanity prevailed, though, and with regret so strong he could taste it in the back of his throat, coppery and bitter, he turned his back and opened the door to leave as quietly as he could. He did not look back, he did not look around to see if anyone saw him, and he did not stop until he was safely back in his dormitory, in his own bed with his hands scrabbling at his pants to seek release.

The steady easing of the zip was a welcome relief. Harry was so keyed up he couldn't hold back from thrusting once against the comforter even before he'd gotten his pants off, he was so sensitive. It felt like he could feel every bunch in the blanket, every fiber in the fabric of his boxers. All he could see in the back of his mind were flashes of imagery--the curve of Cho's knee, water droplets on her soft shoulder, the feathered ends of her damp hair making a sharp contrast with the light colors of the bathtub. The air inside his heavy crimson bed-curtains felt lazy and hot, and Harry caught himself taking a long, desperate breath through his nose, head twisting against the bed, searching for the elusive spicy scent that had filled the other room.

He finally managed to shed his boxers, turning on his side to grip himself with hands already slick from sweat. He opened his eyes long enough to see a swath of dirt marking the place where he'd slid onto the bed, reminding him of where he'd just been (as if he could have forgotten... twist, slide, twist, slide--gasp) and why he'd gone there. Harry wondered just how many inconsequential things were going to have new, disruptive, dirty associations for him now.

His breath came in gasps, too strong to do anything but press his head down against his pillows and suck in air with his mouth open, turning to muffle the noise when the pleasure became too much to bear. He pictured Cho's lifted leg, elegant and arching, and followed it down in his imagination to her other leg, its delicate ankle, foot curved up on perfect toes to balance her weight above the water. He groaned and sped up when he pictured her other hand, splayed out against the back of the tub to anchor herself, fingers slipping and pulsing with effort as she got closer and closer and--

Pleasure knifed through him, white-hot and wonderful behind his eyelids as he came, knees tangled in the blanket as he jerked upwards with his hips, chasing the last ebb of ecstasy until his muscles could take no more. Harry let himself come down from it slowly, uncharacteristically, too wrung out to feel shame, too exhausted to care. On a whim, he pulled his comforter out from beneath his legs and slung it over his midsection, dragging a fresh pillow from behind his current one and covering his face with it. He dreamed of being relaxed, of being safe, of asking a pretty girl on a trip to Hogsmeade without stammering once. He dreamed she said yes.