A Matter of Size
headers and warnings

Harry was small. He had resigned himself to this fact years ago, but he'd been feeling it a lot more acutely since Ron hit yet another growth spurt and topped six feet now. Even Hermione had easily half a head over Harry, and she was a girl!

"I'm heading for the showers," said Harry, ducking away from yet another of Hermione's attempts to make his hair behave, now that she could see the top of it.

Ron started shoving his things in his bag, eyes still looking a bit stunned from the tongue-lashing Hermione had given him over the quality of his Potions essay. "Oi, wait up, I'll go with you," he said.

Harry chuckled, but waited patiently; Ron must be desperate to escape, he'd been avoiding the busy times in the boys' loo for a while now, claiming that he hated having to look over the stall tops and down at the other blokes, now that he'd grown so tall. "Come on, then," he said, leading Ron upstairs.

"Bloody hell," said Ron, flopping onto his bed while Harry gathered his bathrobe, towel, flannel and pyjamas, "I thought she'd never let up."

Harry let out a snort and gave Ron's foot a kick. "Come on, grab your stuff and let's get going. She'll just come find you if you don't."

Ron sighed, but got up since they both knew it was true. The boys' loo was literally the only place in the castle they were safe from Hermione, since girls could easily invade the boys' dorms, and she was also a Prefect. "When you're right, you're right," he said mournfully, pulling out his things and rolling them into a messy bundle.

"I'm always right," said Harry, leading the way through the magic door. No matter what floor of Gryffindor Tower they left from, they ended up in the same big bathroom filled with boys of all ages from their House. Girls couldn't even cross the threshold, and there were no other entrances that Harry knew of, which he found very comforting as he shed his clothes and ducked into one of the shower stalls.

He washed himself quickly, barely looking down at the other place he was smaller than average, at least from what he could see in glimpses when he eyed up the other boys. He was barely ready to acknowledge to himself that he'd rather look at naked boys than naked girls, and he certainly wasn't up for getting caught ogling in the showers, so he was very careful to just glance casually about and take in whatever sights his eyes passed over. Sadly, this had yet to include Seamus, who had grown quite fit, but for some reason he kept getting eyefuls of Neville's plump, round arse and decently sized cock and balls hanging below a soft belly.

Ah, well. Harry emerged from the shower with his thoughts full of pricks and bollocks as usual, one towel wrapped tightly around his waist and the other held casually in front to disguise the sad little tent he was making. He sat on the bench and let out a sigh, glancing over to the showers just in time to see Ron step out in a cloud of steam, his lone towel busy in his hair while his cock and balls swung free. Harry's eyes got big and he couldn't seem to stop staring at the thick, heavy cock, soft but impressively long anyway where it rested on low-hanging, ginger-furred balls, the curls dusted with shining droplets of water.

Harry licked his lips, but managed to tear his eyes away before anyone could notice and out him for eyeing his best friend's meat and two veg like they were really on the menu. "Oi, cover your arse!" yelled one of the fifth years, and Ron laughed and flipped him off.

Harry sighed again and slipped into his pyjama top with a feeling of doom. "He's just jealous," he joked to Ron, looking at his towel despondently.

"As he should be," said Ron, giving his package an obscene little heft that made Harry want to whimper, or perhaps just kneel down in worship. His prick looked even bigger up close, fat and juicy as a sausage, and Harry had to bite his lip to keep from licking it just to see if it tasted as good as it looked.

Neville walked up, pyjamas thankfully already on, and gave Ron a punch in the shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, now put it away, you're scaring the Firsties," he said with a chuckle.

Ron and Harry echoed his laugh, though Harry's was a bit strained as he took advantage of the distraction to slip into his own pants. Ron dried off the rest of the way and then got dressed, the moment forgotten by nearly everyone.

Everyone except Harry, anyway. He closed himself up in his bed as soon as they got back, smacking himself on the forehead hard enough to rattle his brains. Unfortunately, the images of Ron's lovely, fat cock were still there when his vision cleared. "I'm doomed," said Harry dolefully, hand already sliding down into his pyjamas.

He might be doomed, but he was still sixteen, and horny was horny. At least he remembered to put up a silencing charm before he got very far along, or else he might have had even more explaining to do. He couldn't imagine Lavender would ever let him live it down if she knew he'd moaned her boyfriend's name while wanking.

He banished the mess, then buried his face in the pillow and moaned for a different reason.

"Totally, completely doomed."

Harry's fascination for Ron -- or parts of Ron, anyway -- lasted all the way up through Christmas hols. Harry stayed with the Weasleys at the Burrow and wallowed in their sense of wholesome family, trying desperately to wear away the too-vivid memory of Ron's cock, replacing it with images of domesticity and Ron's awful bedhead. Not to mention his morning breath.

Harry got up early on Boxing Day, hoping to beat the rest of the family up and get just a few moments of true privacy -- about all he'd need in his current state of frustration. He wandered, sleepy-eyed and quiet, over to the upstairs loo, the one that creaked alarmingly in high winds and was awfully close to the twins' attic bedroom, which made it prone to exploding at odd moments. Mostly he was following the tent in his pyjamas to the quietest place he could think of, and hoping he'd manage to get back to sleep again afterwards.

He definitely wasn't paying attention to the light under the door, or the sounds of panting coming from inside that ought to have warned him that someone else had had the same idea, and gotten there first. Harry opened the door and was greeted by a sight that melted away all thoughts of Ron.

Bill was leaning against the sink, arched backward so his hair brushed the mirror, pyjama bottoms down around his ankles and no sign of the top at all. His skin gleamed in the dim light and his cock practically shined as he stroked it. It was longer than Harry had ever seen, longer than even his imagined visions of Ron's, and thick enough to fill Bill's hand. The head gleamed as moisture welled from the tip, dripping down only to be caught up by eager fingers and spread over the length. His balls hung below, heavy and dusted with ginger fur, just starting to draw up as he sped his strokes.

Harry had never seen anything so beautiful.

He knew he had to go, but he was mesmerised by the sight of it, so fascinated that he barely noticed the damp spot growing on the front of his own pyjamas. He would be well and truly caught if Bill opened his eyes, but Harry couldn't seem to make his feet move, or his hand shut the door. He couldn't even tear his gaze away from the blur of Bill's fingers moving over that magnificent cock in order to make sure he wasn't already caught.

It wasn't until Bill let out a moan that was loud enough to be heard down the hall that Harry was spurred into action. He stepped back, shut the door as quietly as he could, then turned around and leaned against it for a quick and furious wank of his own. He was wound so tightly that he barely had time to get a rhythm going before he came into his hand, a sticky puddle that he quickly lapped up. It wasn't quite the relief he needed, but at least it was enough that he could wait for the loo to free up for a more leisurely second round.

Harry knew just what he'd be thinking about, and for once, it wouldn't be Ron.

Harry found that, once he got back to school, the little glimpses he got of other boys' cocks just didn't thrill him as much anymore. Neville's pudgy little cock, Jimmy Peakes' exotically circumcised one, even Colin's occasional inappropriate erections weren't enough to get Harry off any more. He could only think about Bill, and Bill's lovely, long, luscious erection.

Every once in a while Harry considered the irony that someone as ungifted by nature as himself would develop an obsession for the Weasley family endowments, generous as they were. Mostly he considered whether it was possible to wank oneself raw, or to wear out a fantasy with overuse.

"I thought black men were, you know, hung," said Seamus teasingly, as Harry sat down next to him and Dean at dinner one day.

"Oi, what're you saying?" said Dean, looking appropriately offended at the presumed slight to his manhood.

Seamus smirked. "I'm just wondering if you've got the family jewels, or just a little baby carrot hiding in there," he said.

Harry began to wonder the same thing almost immediately.

"Don't go believing everything you hear," said Dean, shaking his head. "I've got just what I need, and unlike you, I know what to do with it."

The conversation stuck with Harry long after the moment had passed, not about Dean whom he discovered from glances in the shower that night was strictly average, but just in general. After all, no matter how much mileage he got out of the mental image of Bill wanking, he'd never have a chance in real life, especially not now that Bill was engaged to Fleur.

He didn't find a proper target for those formless thoughts until a few weeks later.

"Wotcher, Harry!" said Tonks cheerfully.

"Hey, Tonks," he said, amused when she made a beeline for the empty seat next to Remus. "How's it going?"

"Not bad. Been keeping busy enough, with Kingsley riding my arse," she said.

Kingsley snorted and took a seat next to Harry. "Don't listen to her," he said, rolling his eyes. "I wouldn't touch that arse with a ten-foot pole."

Harry blushed bright red as his subconscious chose that very moment to remind him that Kingsley was one big, black man that he knew quite well, and had never once heard talk about a girlfriend.

"What," said Tonks, "afraid I'll be too much woman for you?"

Kingsley laughed. "Afraid I'd break you in two, more like," he said with a leer.

Harry turned pinker, and slunk low in his seat, glad his loose trousers hid any evidence of his undersized erection.

"Watch it, you're scaring the boy," said Moody, clomping in. "He's probably got no idea what sort of a degenerate like you gets up to."

Harry would very much have liked to find out, but McGonagall chose that moment to arrive, which put a halt to all inappropriate conversation. Harry spent a good portion of the Order meeting wondering what Kingsley had in his trousers, and very nearly missed the part where they actually had a plan to defeat Voldemort.

He did not, however, miss the fact that Snape had been the one to come up with the plan. That was enough to shove all thoughts of cock right out of his head, a prodigious feat at his age. "How do you know you can trust him?" asked Harry angrily.

Dumbledore turned his disappointed gaze on Harry. "Haven't I told you already, Harry? I trust Severus with my life."

Harry did not quite mutter "bollocks" under his breath, which was likely all that saved him from losing House points as he sulked his way through the remainder of the meeting.

Kingsley and the other Order members stayed at Hogwarts for dinner that night, and Harry made every effort to get himself in the loo at the same time as Kingsley. He knew it wouldn't be the same as seeing Bill wanking, not all hard and glistening and glorious, but just maybe seeing it limp would give him something to build on that wasn't fantasising about his best friend's married older brother.

Who knew, maybe Kingsley liked younger blokes.

Harry had his head thick in fantasies all through dinner, but he still managed to keep his eye on the prize long enough to ditch Ron and Hermione when he saw Kingsley headed for the second floor boys' bathroom, the one that was all urinals and weird mirrors positioned so that no one ever used it unless they absolutely had to.

Harry hurried after him, hoping the four glasses of pumpkin juice he'd drunk during dinner were enough to make his need convincing. He slipped into the room right after and tried to ignore the fact that Kingsley might well get a good view of his own inadequate endowments, too excited at the sound of Kingsley's zipper to completely contain himself.

Harry found a mirror that gave him the perfect view, anticipation rising and then crashing into disappointment. He was all right, but no bigger than Dean or anyone else in the boys' dorm, even accounting for length lost in the depths of his clothing.

At least, Harry thought as he unzipped his own trousers, his erection had subsided enough for him to use the facilities without embarrassing himself.

After that, even the memory of Bill didn't have the same appeal as it had once held, as if some of the shine had been worn off by his own anticipation of a new image to take its place. He still wanked, of course, but not as often or as satisfyingly. So much so that by the time the Order's plans went into effect Harry was a little ball of confused teenage lust and not much else.

That must have been why, instead of the distraction spell he was supposed to cast after killing Voldemort, he Banished everyone's clothing.

His own remained intact, of course, because even accidental magic couldn't overcome Harry's deep-seated fear of having people see his inadequacies, but everywhere around him there was naked flesh. Those closest had even been knocked onto their arses and Snape in particular looked quite put out to be in such an ignominious position. Harry's eyes made the inevitable journey from Snape's prominent nose, down past hairy nipples, a concave stomach and jutting hipbones, and straight to Snape's package.

Snape's huge, beautiful package.

Snape's bollocks were the size of goose eggs, plump in their sac and just asking to be fondled or suckled. His cock rested atop them, thick and soft, the foreskin shielding most of the head from view and the whole thing nearly as long like this as Harry's was at the height of erection. Which he was swiftly reaching, and from looking at Snape of all people!

Who would have guessed that the saying about nose size was true?

"If you are quite finished ogling me, Mr. Potter," said Snape, his grating voice going predictably straight to Harry's prick, "then would you kindly restore our clothing?"

Harry looked around the rest of the room and wished he hadn't -- he could have happily gone the rest of his life without seeing that side of McGonagall. "I, er, I don't know what I've done with it," said Harry pitifully.

"That's all right, my boy," said Dumbledore, and Harry pointedly did not turn and look. "I can conjure us something to get us home, and what's a set of robes compared to freedom?"

Harry gave the room one more careful glance, noting that anyone who might have been a Death Eater had been subdued while Harry was devouring Snape's cock with his eyes. "I suppose that's so, sir," he said, though he had a feeling Snape wouldn't agree.

Dumbledore came around Harry's left side, thankfully covered in what looked like bright orange drapes covered in tropical flowers. "There we are, that'll get us back to Hogwarts, anyway," said Dumbledore with a grin.

Harry nodded and put his own wand away, not wanting to know what else he might bollix up if he tried to be of help. After all, it wasn't like he wanted Snape's cock to be covered any sooner. Harry's eyes strayed back to where Snape was now standing, his prick looking longer and thicker now that it was hanging instead of resting, the silky hair surrounding it just crying out for Harry to bury his nose in it. "I can manage my own," said Snape distantly, his voice cranky even with the Headmaster.

"Well, then," said Dumbledore expectantly, and a moment later black cloth obscured Harry's vision.

Harry sighed, and tried to think of something that might let him leave the room without embarrassing himself further.

Fortunately for the state of Harry's trousers, if not his emotional trauma, Moody had yet to conjure any clothing for himself when Harry glanced his way.

Harry spent the next few days feeling as though he might be going a bit mad. He was constantly torn between memories of Snape's cock and his acidic personality, and it felt as though Snape was constantly present, putting himself -- and his deceptively clothed crotch -- in Harry's line of sight at every opportunity. Harry even tried to keep himself from wanking over Snape, but after three days he was starting to contemplate the shape and size of Hogwarts' various upthrust towers, and he decided that even Snape was better than that.

The day seemed designed to torment him, no time in between classes to wank and every lesson a reminder of what he wasn't going to get. During Herbology they milked long seed pods with a motion that the boys were much more adept at than the girls. In Charms they were Engorging and Shrinking things over and over. Potions was a special torment, and Harry could barely keep still as they peeled and chopped phallic root vegetables. Harry was so distracted he was the last to leave, still cleaning up when the class was dismissed and barely holding himself together as he tried to slip out after the crowd of students was gone.

"Mr. Potter," came a familiar, silky voice behind him, and Harry froze.

"Yes, sir?" he said, turning slowly, bag held in front of him like a shield. A rather low-slung shield.

Snape cocked an eyebrow and nodded at Harry's previous place, where his cauldron still stood. "Forgetting something? You may have defeated the Dark Lord, but you will need your cauldron to pass my class." He stalked over to the item in question and lifted it, swinging it by its handle from one annoyingly graceful finger.

"Sorry, sir, thank you," said Harry, reaching out for it while trying to keep his school bag covering his meagre erection.

Snape smirked, pulling it up out of Harry's reach. "I have yet to hear a convincing apology for the loss of my robes, either," he said.

Harry scowled, anger bubbling up over his shame. "You know I didn't mean to, and you must admit it was distracting," he replied defensively, reaching upward.

"That is an excuse, not an apology," said Snape, raising it a little further.

Harry huffed, slinging his bag onto his shoulder and stepping in close, reaching with both hands now. "I'm sorry I stripped you bare-arsed naked in front of everyone," he said irritably, just managing to grab onto the round belly of the cauldron.

His grip was good enough that, when Snape tried to tug it higher, he pulled Harry off balance. Harry squeaked and let go, but too late to save himself, overextended as he was. He fell into Snape, oofing as their bodies collided, turning to a whimper as his cock slid quite firmly over the solid length of Snape's thigh. Harry tried to right himself, pushing against Snape's narrow chest.

Snape pressed his thigh upward, his smirk turning into a truly evil smile. "So this is why you couldn't tear your eyes away," he said.

Harry's hips gave a little jerk, and he moaned helplessly. Snape's thigh was warm between his legs, against his greedy cock, and rubbing up against it was just about the best thing he'd ever felt in his short life. "Stop it," said Harry, humiliated.

"I'm only trying to help you right yourself," said Snape, though the motion of his leg belied his words.

Harry moaned again and shuddered, eyes closing against this final humiliation as he felt pleasure sweep through him, and wetness flood the front of his trousers. His hands clutched at the front of Snape's robes and he found himself pressing his face there, too, inhaling the scent of the man, pretending for just a moment that he was welcome there.

He was shocked when Snape's hands, rather than pushing him away, settled on his back and held him close. Harry settled in close despite the stickiness in his underwear, and after a few moments he realised that the anatomy pushed up against his belly was not, as he'd assumed, Snape's bony hip. Harry shifted, leaning forward, feeling the vague shape of Snape's erect cock pressing into his stomach and wishing he could manage to unclench one of his hands long enough to wrap it around that heated length. He swallowed and, without looking up, said, "You liked it."

Snape gave a snort. "Not as much as you," he said, though he made no move to let go.

Harry found himself grinning. "Not as much as me, yet, you mean," he said. Something about the situation made him brave, brave enough to let go of his death grip on Snape's robes and move his right hand down between them to map out that enticing shape, finding it even bigger than he'd imagined. "You're huge!" he said, looking up with wide eyes before ducking his head back down in a humiliated blush.

"You like that," said Snape, making it a statement and not a question. There was a pause when Snape's right hand disappeared, and Harry heard the door shut and lock behind him. "You may pull it out," suggested Snape, as though instructing him to add the next ingredient to a potion.

"Don't pretend you don't want this, too," said Harry, though his hands were already scrambling to undo Snape's robes.

Snape tilted up Harry's face, eyes dark and unreadable as ever as he looked into Harry's. Whatever he saw there must have satisfied him, however, because he leaned down slowly enough that even Harry realised what was going to happen before their lips met. Harry was surprised to find Snape's breath tasted of cloves, that his lips were strong and supple, if thin, and that this kiss was a completely different thing than any of his previous kisses. He wasn't sure if it was just that Snape wasn't crying, but instead actively attempting to coax Harry into deepening the kiss, or that he was finally kissing someone for whom he felt a genuine and urgent lust. Whatever it was, Harry kissed back as best he could, hands still busy at Snape's annoyingly complicated robes.

Finally he pulled back and panted, "If you don't, don't want these to go like the last set, you have to undo them!"

Snape's laugh this time held a completely different edge than the contempt that usually coloured it, and Harry found that both he and his cock liked the sound. "Heaven forbid," he said, swiftly undoing the complex-seeming catches on each layer until only his white pants were between Harry and his prize.

Harry dropped to his knees on pure instinct, pulling down the pants and bringing Snape's cock out into the light reverently. "Oh, it's lovely," he said, looking up past the impressive sight to Snape's face. "You really want me?" he asked, hands already petting the soft skin in a rather proprietary manner.

"One swallow may not make a relationship," said Snape wryly, "but we already have a relationship of sorts, and I want you regardless." His long fingers threaded into Harry's hair, mussing it affectionately. He wisely braced himself against the last work table in the row, legs spreading invitingly to give Harry easy access to whatever he might wish to explore.

Harry laughed. "I'm not sure what that says about you," he replied, rubbing his cheek against Snape's cock like a kitten, "but I'll take it." He paused to nuzzle into the wiry hairs at the base, inhaling Snape's musky scent before adding, "And I'll swallow."

Snape chuckled with him, the sound stuttering off into a moan as Harry began to move his mouth over Snape's cock, licking and kissing the base and then working his way upwards, laving every inch of skin with his tongue until the shaft shone in the dim dungeon light. His hands were equally occupied, one rolling and squeezing Snape's balls while the other kept his cock steady, gripping the base when Harry worked his way up the shaft, rubbing and stroking it as Harry's mouth moved toward the plum-like head. Harry pulled back the foreskin and nibbled around the crown ever so gently, before finally allowing himself to take the tip into his mouth. The fluid that had gathered there was salty on his tongue and just slightly bitter, a thick ambrosia that Harry lapped away, probing the slit with his tongue once it was gone.

Above him, Snape threw his head back and made noises almost as delicious as his cock, low moans and surprised gasps, half-spoken words, many of which seemed to be variations on Harry's name. Harry worked his mouth down a little further, though his mouth would only go so wide and he couldn't take more than a few inches of Snape's magnificent prick. He brought both hands upward and began to bob his head, sucking and stroking in tandem, trying to get more of those wonderful sounds out of Snape. The fluid welling up from Snape's cock grew more bitter and copious, and Harry had to pause to swallow, looking up at the sheer abandon in Snape's face as he did so. Snape's fingers tugged when he stared too long, and Harry grinned for a moment as he went back to work, quite pleased both with himself and the wonderful cock he was finally allowed to touch and taste to his heart's content.

Harry tightened his grip, using his own saliva to slick the way as he stroked and sucked just as he'd dreamed of doing, eyes closed as he fell into a rhythm, ignoring the aches in his knees and jaw, and the urgent demands of his own prick. All his concentration was on the cock in his mouth, so much so that it didn't register until it was too late that Snape was tugging at his hair, that Snape's balls were drawing up and Snape's erection growing thicker. With a warning cry of, "Harry!" Snape shuddered and spent himself in Harry's mouth. Harry pulled back just enough that the flood of bitter fluid didn't choke him and he managed to swallow most of it down, finding the taste strong but not unpleasant, a bit like the weird cheese they'd served in Fourth Year when the Beaxubatons girls were there.

Harry sat back, grinning like a fool despite the come and spit on his chin, looking up at Snape, disheveled and undone and all because of him. "That was brilliant. If one swallow won't do it, I'm happy to keep trying until you're satisfied."

Snape managed to focus his gaze on Harry's face and then he laughed, leaning down and pulling Harry up into an embrace. "Perhaps we can make it two," he said, lifting Harry onto the table and kneeling down gracefully in his place.

Harry flushed, but he made no move to deny Snape access; better to get the moment of truth out of the way now than later. Snape didn't miss Harry's reaction, however, and he smoothed his hands up Harry's thighs slowly, watching the war in Harry's features between want and embarrassment. "Please," said Harry after a long, torturous moment when Snape's fingers framed, but did not touch, his needy prick.

"Yes," said Snape, pouncing with a wicked grin. Before Harry knew it his pants and trousers were around his knees and Snape's lips were around his cock, the full length of it fitting easily into his mouth. Snape sucked hard once, then pulled back and looked up at Harry. "It is a rare thing, to find a lover who both appreciates my assets and is small enough for me to accommodate comfortably," he said, much to Harry's surprise.

Harry was saved from having to think of an answer to that when Snape swallowed his cock to the root again, and his teenage libido took over. Nothing at all coherent could get past the moaning, his hips saved from impolite thrusting by Snape's implacable grip, his whole body on fire for an embarrassingly short amount of time before he came again, this time into the very welcoming, hot cavern of Snape's mouth. Snape swallowed and pulled away, wiping his mouth fastidiously before spoiling it by kissing Harry again, whose mouth was still smeared with Snape's come.

"Wow," said Harry, shifting forward enough he could stop bracing himself against the desk and hold onto Snape instead, sharing their mingled flavours in more kisses. He kissed Snape until he felt his traitorous prick begin to show signs of stirring, and then pulled back with a crooked grin. "I think two swallows definitely makes a relationship," he said teasingly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and then looking down at them both, smeared with come and positively indecent. "When can we do this again?"

Snape's face went through some interesting changes, though Harry couldn't get his brain in gear fast enough to follow them. Finally he said, "As long as you do not expect any leeway in Potions, you may visit me in my office after dinner whenever you like."

Harry kissed him, still grinning as though he'd just caught the Snitch in a World Cup game. "Frequently, then. I pretty much always," said Harry, scooting forward just a little so that Snape's limp, damp cock brushed over his own half-hard prick, "want to do this."

Snape snorted, pressing forward so their bits were cuddling just like the rest of them, arms holding Harry close as they kissed. "I will be sure to take my vitamins so I can keep up," he said.

Harry hummed into the kiss, thinking that he could get used to this. "Lots of vitamins," he said teasingly. "You've got lots to keep up, after all."

Title: A Matter of Size
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, AU, Crack, Chan (16), voyeurism
Summary: Harry has a small boy's fascination for big things.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to swtalmnd_fic for beta duties.

All of the works contained herein are labours of love, unauthorized by those who hold the rights to such things, and no profit is made from them. No harm is meant, and hopefully no offense given.