Chapter Text
Harry never had reason to think of himself as different from other boys, until he’d joined the Quidditch team as its Seeker. Surrounded by boys his own age and older, it was inevitable that glances would be directed at each other’s crotches, comparing and contrasting penis sizes.
Harry was busy changing out of his Quidditch gear and stripping off his underwear, grateful for the chance to wash the sweat off his skin after a long training session when he heard it:
“Jesus, Potter! You’re hung like a Hippogriff!”
Starting at the words, Harry’s head snapped up at the sound of the voice, conversations stopping as all attention in the locker room became focused on him. So surprised was he that he left his underwear dangling around his ankles, not thinking to pull them up his to hide his genitals from the curious eyes of his teammates as they crowded around him to get a closer, unfettered look at his package. That curiosity soon turned to intimidation and envy when they saw what Harry was packing.
Harry’s small, boyish frame was almost at odds with the size of his cock; even flaccid, it was longer and thicker than most men’s erections whilst his testicles were the size of ripe oranges. Being eleven, he wasn’t old enough to have started growing pubic hair, the lack of hair on his cock and balls almost seeming to make them look bigger as they hung between his legs.
Harry was paralysed by embarrassment, not even thinking of grabbing his towel to wrap around his waist and preserve his modesty as his teammates whispered amongst themselves, not making eye contact with him, and pointing at his endowment as though he were a bizarre species of animal that one would come across in the zoo.
“Alright. What’s going on here?” Oliver Wood’s voice cut through the awkwardness that had overtaken the locker room. The crowd parted to let their team captain through and Harry breathed a sigh of relief at the older boy's presence, until Wood’s eyes landed on him, or more specifically, the heavy length of meat hanging between his legs.
Now, his eyes beheld a look of fear (and jealousy) as he beheld Harry’s nakedness. He licked his suddenly dry lips, swallowing nervously before speaking again:
“G-get to the showers, everyone,” he said, his voice lacking the previous commanding tone of earlier.
Harry ducked his head, grabbing his towel and wrapping it around his lower half as he darted towards the showers, the whispers returning in full after Wood’s proclamation.
Being a school, rumours in Hogwarts spread like wildfire; students seeking and teachers quickly catching wind of gossip – especially, when they denied it – to break up the monotony of school life. Being a boarding school that hosted hundreds of hormonal, juvenile students throughout the year, rumours of a sexual nature spread like the very air people breathed.
Ever since the incident in the changing rooms, Harry felt eyes on him wherever he went, people either openly staring at him or quickly looking away as soon as he caught their gaze and heard the whispers (“I heard Potter’s got a monster cock in his trousers”, “Potter’s carrying around a foot-long in his pants”) follow him so much that he felt his skin crawl.
Conversations would stop as soon as he approached, intense gazes darting towards his crotch as opposed to looking at his face, even when he talked to people to initiate conversation.
Harry felt himself remembering how he felt when he first came to Hogwarts; his family having survived Voldemort’s attack and the Dark Lord being defeated in the process by a previously unknown wizard, he was treated like he was some kind of hero by his peers, even though he – being a baby – had nothing to do with ending Voldemort’s dark reign. Even his friendships with Ron and Hermione carried with it an initial measure of idolisation before they got to know him as a person.
Overtime, however, that faded as Harry spent time around his peers, getting to know them and them getting to know him in turn as they laughed, joked, and studied together; soon realising that he was fundamentally no different than any of them regardless of his family’s history.
Now, people treated him like he was a physically deformed circus freak, refusing to even talk to him. Whilst they were both willing to still speak to him, Ron wouldn’t even look him in the eyes and Hermione couldn’t even look at him without blushing.
It was for this reason that the three of them sat together, eating dinner at the same table but none of them talking to each other. Harry sat with his shoulders hunched as he ate, curling in on himself to make him look smaller than he already was as the whispering and pointing returned. Even his housemates who sat at the same table as him gave him a wide berth; Harry was grateful that Ron and Hermione, even in their awkward silence, hadn’t abandoned him to weather this treatment alone.
Harry was close to finishing his dinner and was planning to head to the library before it closed – with how ostracised he now felt, he came to welcome the silence he found in there – to either lose himself in a book or do schoolwork when a feminine voice, belonging to an older student, reached him:
“We need to talk, Potter.”
Harry looked up, his green eyes meeting Angelina Johnson’s chocolate brown ones, which bore a look of curiosity as she beheld him.
“N-now?” Harry asked his older teammate, her being one of the few people to not just speak to him but initiate conversation with him in what felt like ages.
“Now,” Angelina confirmed, waiting for him to rise from his seat and inclining her head towards the exit of the Great Hall after he promised Ron and Hermione that he’d catch up with them later.
Harry followed her out of the Great Hall, somewhat struggling to keep up with the determined stride of her long legs. If Angelina was bothered by the pointing and whispering that followed the two of them as they walked, she didn’t show it, though Harry caught one errant whisper that made his face burn in a blush:
“I wouldn’t go near a woman who’s been around him; trying to fuck her after he’s done with her would be like trying to throw a sausage down an alleyway.”
He rushed to exit the Hall after hearing that.
“Is it true?” Angelina demanded. They walked until they found an empty classroom and Angelina had hurried him inside before locking the door with a flick of her wand, adding a Silencing Charm on top of it, then ushering him further into the classroom. Now, Harry stood with his back against the teacher’s desk whilst Angelina stood facing him.
“Is what true?” Harry asked, not able to help feeling nervous standing in front of her, her tall height making him have to look up at her to meet her eyes whilst her athletic physique dwarfed his wiry frame. Three years older than him, she was in possession of curves that would only become more womanly as she got older.
“The rumour that you have a big cock, Potter,” she replied bluntly, making the earlier blush return to Harry’s face.
“W-well,” Harry stuttered, “I-I’m n-not sure h-how big I-I am …”
“Take off your trousers,” Angelina said, cutting through his stammering.
“What?!” Harry’s voice came out in a strangled yell, his earlier nervousness forgotten in the face of Angelina’s brazenness.
“Take off your trousers,” Angelina repeated. “I want to see how big you really are.”
“B-but …”
Angelina didn’t wait for Harry to finish, kneeling and beginning to unbutton Harry’s trousers herself. Were Harry a bit older he would have been able to immediately appreciate the significance of a female kneeling before him to undo his trousers to see his genitalia, but alas, Harry was not yet at the age to grasp the full context of his situation for if he was, he would already be sporting an erection.
Unbuckling his belt, Angelina tugged his loosened trousers down. Even flaccid, Harry’s genitalia sat in a heavy bulge within his underpants and Harry felt a pleasant shiver run through him as his fellow Gryffindor placed her warm palm against his penis and testicles, feeling their size.
“Oh my God,” Angelina breathed. He felt bigger than most boys and men would be when they’re hard, and she pulled his pants down to truly see what she was packing.
Harry didn’t make any moves to stop her, his nervousness at this bizarre situation and a part of him that rested deep within his very being, which would only grow given time and proper encouragement, wanted to see where this situation would end up.
Angelina lifted Harry’s dick up to her face with both of her hands, her fingers only just meeting as she held him, her dark skin contrasting with his paler complexion as she began stroking him.
Harry groaned, pleasure shooting through him as Angelina brought him to hardness, neither speaking until Harry was fully erect.
“Fuck, Potter.” Angelina swore. “How are you so short, but so hung?” Not quite a foot-long, Harry’s dick was an inch or so shy of that mark with its girth now preventing her fingers from meeting even as she continued to stroke him in a two-handed grip.
A pearly white drop of precum emerged from the tip of Harry’s bell-end and Angelina licked it up without thinking. Flavour exploded on her tongue, Harry’s cum carrying without it a sweetness that Angelina had never tasted before. She continued her handjob, drawing out more of that sweet, tasty precum for her to swallow.
For his part, Harry moaned as she worked on him, his fists and teeth clenched as Angelina began licking across his tip before swallowing over half of his cock until she gagged before pulling back and pushing forward, pulling back and pushing forward, until she established a nice pace for a blowjob; wet trails of spit running across Harry’s cock as she continued to stroke him. New to receiving this type of pleasure, Harry felt his balls and cock begin to pulse in the face of Angelina’s blowjob-handjob combo.
Feeling his impending orgasm, Angelina forced herself downwards until she’d swallowed all of Potter’s cock in one go, gagging mightily. Possessed by this new pleasure, Harry grabbed her head in his hands and held her there as he hit a fever pitch. “Something’s coming, Angelina!” He yelled, that being the only warning that Angelina got before Harry began cumming down her throat.
His cock reaching down into her throat meant his cum was blasted directly down into her stomach, his cock jumping as his balls drew upwards to pump his load out. Angelina choked, tears running from her eyes as Harry held her in place, only loosening his grip when she pushed against his skinny thighs. Falling backwards onto her butt, her spread legs giving him a lovely view of her pink, flower-patterned underwear from beneath her school skirt, she coughed as she sought to get air back into her lungs.
Harry grabbed his penis with both hands, jerking himself off wildly and making more cum shoot out of his cock. He didn’t stop until he’d completely covered Angelina’s face and shirt with his seed, the now see-through material revealing enticing swell of her bra-clad breasts to his gaze.
“Fuck Potter,” Angela gasped, wiping cum away from her eyes with her hands. Gripped by impulse, she licked her hand, her eyes shooting wide as the flavour of Harry’s sperm – sweeter than honey, sweeter than anything she’d ever tasted, with a thick, syrupy consistency that made it cling to her skin – suffused her tastebuds and left her with the knowledge, no, the burning desire that told her she had to get more. “Any time you need your balls drained, just let me know.”
Standing there, his heart racing with excitement at this new form of pleasure and mind, Harry smiled.
It was a departure from his usual nervous smiles when greeting strangers who treated him like a messiah for defeating Voldemort, the joyous smiles when he did well in Quidditch training and helped his team win games or the easy smiles that came to his lips when he spent time with his friends and family. No, this smile was full of confidence Harry never felt before, which when combined with the dark hunger in his eyes as he beheld his senior’s cum-soaked form, made him look like a predator inspecting the best way to devour prey that had been placed before it. This expression was more befitting of a man used to experiencing pleasure, not a boy who’d just been given his first taste of sensuality.
“I’ll take you up on that offer, Angelina.” Harry said, his mind already awash with fantasies of how future encounters would go; a far cry from the shy, innocent boy he’d been mere hours ago. So lewd were his thoughts that his cock was already regaining its hardness mere moments after his first orgasm, looking like a club in his small hands. “In fact, now’s a good a time as any.”
Gripped by desire, Angelina crawled forwards on her knees to get another taste of Harry’s cum.