Harry couldn’t say how it happened, even long after the incident occurred. Not in any way that was definite, at least.
One moment, he was slipping back into the common room of the Gryffindor Tower, and the next, he was blearily opening his eyes back up to a world he hardly recognized.
It wasn’t that he was sent to another universe - no, not at all.
Nor was it that his surroundings were unfamiliar, per se.
They were just… large.
Incredibly so.
So much so that it felt like it took him way too long to realize where exactly he was and why everything so familiar looked so different.
He sat up on the soft surface he had been laying on, head slowly bobbing left and right as he took in the seemingly endless expanse that he processed as being the room he slept in with Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus.
He was sitting on a nightstand next to one of the beds, the vast canopy of it soaring high above his head and the parted curtains revealing a mountainous lump of a figure sleeping within the covers, mass rising and falling with their deep, even breaths.
It was Ron, most likely, seeing as to how the rest of their roommates along with most of the school had left for Christmas break.
His gaze trailed down to himself only for his face to flush a bright, startled red upon realizing that he was completely bare, only covering being the napkin that was underneath him and folded over his lap.
His head snapped back up with a bit more panic, frantically rechecking that there was nobody awake in the vicinity to see his state of undress.
It wasn’t as if he was ashamed of his appearance or anything of the sort, seeing as to how he’d grown used to changing in front of a room full of other boys over the past few years, but there was something startlingly uncomfortable about being so exposed as he was now.
He hitched the handkerchief slightly higher around his waist, feeling a bit tense. There was a quill a few feet away from him - well, a few inches, he supposed - and he was briefly mind boggled at the amount of detail he could make out from it now that he was roughly its size. He estimated he was about four, maybe five inches tall, lying down and comparing himself to the length of the quill.
Brilliant.
The room was still somewhat darkened, only the faintest of blues casting light into the room as the sun peeked out over the horizon, so Harry figured it would be quite a bit before Ron arose.
Things had been rather… tense between them. It’d been so for a while, now.
They still kept on as normal, but it was as if there was a layer between them, separating them and causing a sheen of plasticity to enter their interactions.
Well, Harry thought, looking down at his minute self once more, he supposed that their slight distancing hadn’t affected their relationship enough for his friend to not give him a hand, seeing how Harry was placed by the other’s nightstand. Harry figured that the other must have saved or at least found him after whatever incident and brought him back here to wait for Harry to wake up.
Harry somewhat reluctantly laid himself back down against the napkin, staring aimlessly at the ceiling as he let his eyes drift back closed, taking slow, purposefully deep breaths.
He might as well get some more sleep in while waiting for Ron to wake up.
-
Harry jerked awake to the sound of shifting fabric, napkin falling into his lap as he snapped his head to the side, spotting Ron rising from his mound of covers.
“Morning Ron!” Harry practically shouted, lips quirking into a smile when Ron’s head jerked in his direction, eyes wide.
The redhead didn’t say anything for a few moments, mouth gaping open and closed as he blinked rapidly at Harry’s diminutive form.
“Thanks for getting me out of whatever happened, mate,” Harry said, giving his friend a bit of a deprecating smile and gesturing at himself. “Must’ve been a shock,” he joked.
A strange look flashed across Ron’s face, but it was gone almost as quickly as it came. “Course - yeah” he replied, voice still rough with sleep, chin jerking up in a nod even as he raised a hand to rub the crust out of his eyes.
“Do you know who did this to me?” Harry questioned, gesturing at himself with one hand and self-consciously hiking up the tissue to his chest with the other, feeling awkwardly exposed.
Ron hummed noncommittally, pushing off his blankets and shifting his legs to the side so he could drop them off the bedframe, resting his feet on the floor and facing Harry. His head was tilted slightly, lips pursed. “No,” he said slowly, after another strangely long moment.
Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Okay…” he drawled, bemused.
Ron shifted again, so that he was just barely sitting off the edge of the bed, leaning forwards as his shadow crept to cover Harry’s small frame. The larger’s gaze darted to the door a couple times, a look of contemplation flickering across his eyes as he licked his lips.
He suddenly gasped, making Harry jump, and blurted out, “Shit, someone’s coming!” in the same moment that he darted his hand forward and grabbed Harry in a sweaty fist, napkin dropping out from under him.
Harry gave a shout of surprise, the sound promptly muffled as Ron shoved his thumb over the lower half of Harry’s face, inadvertently blocking his breathing in his attempt at quieting the smaller.
Harry’s arms were locked at his sides, encased as he was from his shoulders to his knees, so he could only squirm slightly in the grip, immediately panicked as he was smothered by the single digit.
He couldn’t look up to see what Ron was doing, the back of his neck braced against his friend’s palm and keeping him pressed into the pad of the digit covering his nose and mouth. He could only feel that they were moving, as if Ron was in a hurry of some sort.
Harry opened his mouth in a gasp, desperate for some relief on his lungs, which were beginning to ache as his onset of panic burned through his oxygen with the way adrenaline was pumping through his racing bloodstream. His action was met with no respite, and, instead, damp, salt slick skin laced with an undertone of bitterness forced its way across his tongue, the overwhelming taste of it nearly making him gag. He tried to close his mouth again, and the thumb pressed further into his face, causing his teeth to gently scrape across the digit.
Ron’s thumb jerked back, and Harry took in a desperate gulp of air, gasping audibly as he craned his neck up to look towards his friend, about to ream him out for nearly suffocating Harry for whatever inane reason it was.
He swallowed his words at the look on his friend's face.
Ron’s cheeks were flushed a ruddy color, blotchy and spread across to his ears and neck, clashing oddly with his carrot-top hair. His lips were parted slightly, and he was panting, almost as if he was out of breath. His eyes were wide, pupils slightly blown as he looked right at Harry, who was held only a few inches away from his face.
“Sorry, mate,” Ron breathed out quickly, not sounding insincere, exactly, but also as if he wasn’t paying too much attention.
“I-” Harry started, but Ron cut him off, talking over him as if he hadn’t heard, eyes skating away and past Harry. The smaller abruptly realized he no longer knew where they were, not recognizing their dimly lit surroundings.
“I dunno if they’ll find us again, but I’ve got to hide you,” Ron whispered in a rush, gaze darting back to Harry and his eyes shining with something that Harry would, in any other circumstance, likely label as excitement.
“Who?” Harry demanded, squirming slightly in Ron’s oppressive grip. The latter either didn’t care or didn’t take note of Harry’s clear discomfort in the heated hold, fist remaining firmly around him, fingers twitching slightly. Harry was quite abruptly reminded that he was naked beneath the hold, and he flushed a stark red, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the way Ron’s calluses were rubbing against his smooth, exposed skin.
“Draco and his merry band of sycophants, I’m pretty sure,” Ron told him promptly, free hand drumming a rapid beat against his thigh.
Harry frowned, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “But they’re not-”
Ron cut him off again, jumping to his feet and thereby jarring Harry harshly in his hold, giving the ravenette whiplash at the abrupt movement. “I hear them!” he whisper-shouted. “Don’t make a sound,” he hissed, and then Harry felt his stomach leave his body as he was yanked through the air, lower and lower, eyes squeezing shut from the sudden head rush, only to reopen as he heard the sound of cloth shifting.
He was tilted sideways, facing down, so he had the perfect view of Ron pulling the waistband of his trousers away from his torso, the thick scent of his musk wafting up to greet Harry as he continued to be lowered into the now gaping hole towards his friend’s crotch. “Ron!” Harry shouted, trying desperately to wriggle out of the sweaty-gripped hold he was in. He gave a shocked gasp as the fingers squeezed around him, compressing his ribs.
“There isn’t any other way - shut up!” Ron whisper-shouted, and then he promptly shoved Harry directly down his pants, his fingers dropping the smaller directly against his crotch and the light from above receding with a faint snap of a waistband as Ron’s underwear immediately pressed Harry’s face directly against the skin of his friend’s cock. His half-hard cock, Harry quite promptly realized, stilling in shock from where he’d been trying to push away from the length before he’d felt the heated skin give a jerky twitch against him.
“What the fuck,” Harry whispered to himself, heart practically beating a tattoo against his chest from how fast it was sending adrenaline pulsing through his veins, his mind struggling to catch up with the past handful of minutes.
He shifted slightly, stilling immediately as he felt the cock in front of him give another twitch.
He frontside was gently pressed against it from his upper thighs to his chest, the underwear at his back not being loose enough or having enough elasticity to give him space away from the literal prick.
He didn’t understand what the hell was happening.
First, Ron had suddenly grabbed him as if he’d heard someone approaching their dorm room - something Harry hadn’t sensed any signs of at all. Then, he’d carried Harry along to who-knows-where only to say that it was Draco who was after them.
Now, normally, Harry could understand this; he wouldn’t have had any doubt to the validity of the accusation at all. However, Draco, like the vast majority of Hogwarts students, had gone home for winter break. As had his normal followers, as far as Harry knew. So he felt his confusion over Ron’s statement was reasonable enough.
He supposed that perhaps Ron wasn’t sure who was chasing them and had forgotten that Draco wasn’t here, and then had simply labeled the most likely perpetrators.
Though that still didn’t sufficiently explain how all of this equated to Harry Potter being shoved down his best friend’s sodding pants.
What had Ron said? That he needed to hide?
Harry could hide practically anywhere! He was literally less than half a foot tall! Why in Merlin’s name were Ron’s underpants the only place the redhead could think of on the spot?
It certainly wasn’t a comfortable hiding place, seeing as to how Harry was stuck shoving at his friend’s cock so that his face didn’t get pressed into the turgid flesh.
Which was a problem in and of itself, considering that the twitches from his friend’s prick were becoming more insistent, his member swelling and further cramming itself against Harry, forcing his - very bare - legs to spread apart on either side of his friend’s cock.
In a sudden jolt of angered vexation, Harry slapped his hand against the length, yelping as the cock gave a sudden jerk beneath him, Ron making a low grunt somewhere far above.
His friend’s cock was definitely past a half chub now, tenting at the underwear and raised enough that Harry was fully seated on it, naked thighs clamping on either side of it and body leaning forward so that he could keep hold of it.
Did Harry want to be literally riding a fucking dick? Not in the bloody slightest.
But the alternative was him falling off it and deeper into Ron’s pants, and he refused to even contemplate the thought of being crushed by his friend’s balls or pressed against his actual arsehole. No, thank you very much, Harry would suffer the lesser of the two evils, even as he gritted his teeth when the cock beneath him gave another hearty twitch, jolting Harry forward like a rider on an angry bull.
“What the fuck, Ron,” Harry hissed, taking a risk and reaching forward to grab one of his friend’s dark pubes, tugging on it sharply.
Ron made a shocked noise, and Harry didn’t even have the time to do as much as he suddenly found himself forcefully sliding down to the base of Ron’s dick, a pressure from below shoving the teen’s cock to stand fully upright, pressing the front of Harry’s body into the other’s pubic hair and face into his lower abdomen, pulsing prick a hard pressure at his back.
Harry struggled wildly, legs stuck on either side of the base of his friend’s cock and his upper body forcefully pressed against his too-warm skin. The fabric around him shifted, a low, muffled groan sounding from above as the cock behind him pressed harder into his backside.
Harry kicked his legs out, feet hitting below the other’s cock, only to inhale a choked gasp as something wet and sticky splashed onto his hair. He jerked his head up, and, in the low light, he just barely made out the tip of Ron’s cock high above him, another bead of precum already leaking from the nearly purple head.
He had just enough time to snap his face back down before the hot spunk dropped down onto his head, dripping across the back of his neck and trailing down his spine.
At this point, Harry had long since left the realm of alarmed and had ascended to stupefied hysteria.
He grabbed a handful of Ron’s pubes in both his fists and yanked, too far gone to care about the definitely painful pinch the action would cause as Ron gave a loud yelp.
Good, Harry thought vindictively, forehead pressed against the other’s happy trail to prevent precum from dripping into his eyes. Let him realize. Because how the fuck could he just forget me here?!
Except, instead of finding the waistband of Ron’s pants lifted, of Ron’s expression of guilt and consternation, of being taken out of this unimaginable hell of a series of events, the breath was punched out of Harry’s lungs as he was mashed into Ron’s pubic bone, cock rigid behind him and squeezing him between the two masses of flesh with a punishing amount of pressure.
He felt himself dragged slightly up and down in a movement that was reminiscent of being stroked, and he quite suddenly - stupidly, really, given how long it’d taken him to fully take note - realized that Ron was jerking himself off. With Harry.
The pressure eased slightly, and Harry sucked in a deep breath through his bruised sternum, shouting out, “RON!” at the top of his lungs, pounding his diminutive fists on the other’s lower abdomen.
Ron gave no sign of having heard him, continuing to rub his length and therefore Harry against it, Harry’s top half getting steadily more soaked in precum as his skin glided wetly against the other’s shaft.
“You fucking DICKHEAD!” Harry screamed, and then he screamed again - an unintelligible noise this time - as he felt Ron’s fingers come around him through his pants to fist Harry and his cock together through the fabric. Harry’s shout was sucked back into his lungs as they were forcefully emptied, a finger digging harshly into his stomach as Ron began jerking himself frantically, the fabric of his cotton underwear rubbing chafingly against Harry’s skin as he was yanked up and down Ron’s length like a fucking toy, held in such a tight fist he could hardly breathe as he felt the cock against his back swell further.
Then Ron let out a deep moan and squeezed, and Harry’s mouth gaped open in an airless gasp as his ribscreaked, the throbbing length behind him pulsing once, twice, before he literally heard the sperm shooting up and out of Ron’s cock in a torrent, the hot spunk splurting out of the larger’s cockhole and falling in a cascade that coated Harry in the sticky release.
The grip on him released suddenly, and Harry didn’t have the strength to hold onto the slowly softening cock he’d been sitting on, inhaling frantic heaves while the cum acted to further him along in slipping off the member. He gave an aborted gasp as he slid off to the side, dropping down off the cock and falling -
Fuck.
He landed against the pants in a roll, the slope of the fabric causing him to come to a stop right in the negligible gap between the bottom of the pants and Ron’s balls.
The fabric beneath him was wet and gripless, and his attempts at pulling himself out from under the hairy sack were mercilessly cut off by the action of Ron beginning to move. The balls above him bounced slightly with the motions, every downwards step causing them to push down on Harry’s back with enough pressure to force the air from his lungs. He frantically sucked in a desperate breath of musky, spunk-scented air every chance he got, hardly even able to make a sound before the balls pressed back down and crushed all the breath right back out of him.
“F-fu-gh,” he choked out, gasping and wheezing as he tried to claw his way backwards, horribly positioned as he was so that he was facing the direction of Ron’s rear, shoulders and up under his perineum, his torso and upper legs at the mercy of his balls, and his calves and feet the only things free.
He nearly inhaled a mouthful of cum as Ron came to an abrupt, jarring stop, arms slipping and causing him to faceplant in the wet seed lining the base of Ron’s pants, barely closing his mouth in time to prevent the still warm spunk from entering his mouth.
He flipped around onto his back, swiping a disgusted hand over his mouth before inhaling a deep breath, hating how the thick, cloying scent of cum permeated the air as if he were in a sauna.
Then his eyes widened in shock, and he gave a shout as his world tilted backwards, body sliding further back until his head was between Ron’s slightly parted cheeks, the puckered hole of Ron’s anus right above him.
“Oh God no,” Harry couldn’t help but utter, complete horror freezing him in place, and then he jerked harshly as his back connected with a soft surface.
His horror melded with an onset of terror as he realized that the hole above him was rapidly lowering - too quickly to stop - and he barely had enough sense to not raise his arms up in a useless attempt at stopping the motion, considering that his arms would be snapped like twigs.
It was less than a second before his face was smashed directly into the center of Ron’s twitching anus, and his air supply quite suddenly went from bad to worse.
It didn’t smell like shite - small fucking mercies - but it wasn’t pleasant even in the most generous of terms. The moist air trapped inside the edge of the larger’s pucker melded the scent of cum with his natural musk, overwhelming Harry’s nostrils as he was forced to continually inhale the thick scent if he didn’t want to suffocate himself.
Ron shifted slightly, and Harry, previously struck still in shock, began struggling wildly as his face was shoved in past the quivering muscles lining Ron’s sphincter.
He pushed desperately with his hands at the inner edges of the other’s cheeks, legs kicking up against the balls that were now weighing down against them, chest thankfully not too constricted under the other’s perineum.
Ron let out a deep groan, shoving down further against Harry’s face, pushing the smaller’s chin in past the rim.
Harry bucked, jerking his arms up to his face and tugging at the pucker surrounding it, trying to pull himself back out of the twitching hole that was clenching down around the frame of his head.
Ron moaned outright, muscles clenching around Harry’s face and balls tightening above his knees.
Harry pulled more desperately at Ron’s anus, the air he was stuck inside with growing so humid that it was hard to breathe it in.
The pressure on his head didn’t let up, and he only peripherally noticed how his entire frame was being rocked in an up and down motion, likely signaling that Ron was once more stroking his cock. Harry didn’t have the mental span to pay the abhorrent fact much heed, instead frantically pushing and pulling at Ron’s rim, hands slipping against the damp, sweaty pucker.
His breaths beginning to feel almost wet themselves, Harry took a last, desperate measure and forced his palms flat by the sides of his cheeks and pushed, sliding them in alongside his face past the entrance of Ron’s anus. Then he pushed outwards, letting in a rush of comparatively fresh air in through the small gap between his face and his hands into the hole.
Ron moaned loudly above him as Harry took in deep, desperate gasps of more breathable air, arms straining to keep pressing outwards against the taut, pulsing muscles of Ron’s twitching rim. His mouth was gaped open to intake as much air as he could, and he gagged as the taste of spunk, sweat, and other unidentifiable tangs coated his tongue.
He was left unprepared for the way Ron’s anus suddenly tightened, forcing his palms to press in against his cheeks as the front of his head was squeezed by the muscles around him, pink flesh contracting to the point that he popped right back out of the sphincter with a wet sound and an aborted gasp. Ron let out a long, deep groan, and Harry, sucking in gulps of air, realized that the other was cumming, another wave of spunk spilling down the pants and seeping into the fabric around Harry.
His face was still pressed against the wrinkled, twitching pucker, but the pressure had at least let up, not sucking him back inside as he attempted to breathe around the sweaty skin.
He remained limp as, a few moments later, the pink flesh lifted off him, eyes squinting as a sudden burst of light entered his crotch-filled prison, light dimming as a gigantic hand lowered itself inside.
Harry swallowed, not having the energy to lift himself up out of the spunk-covered mess that he was lying in, quietly relishing in the fresh air that had wafted down over to him from the opening in Ron’s pants.
Still, he whimpered softly as Ron’s tree-trunk like fingers scooped him up, raising Harry’s cum covered, weak frame out from his underwear.
Harry blinked slowly as he was lifted fully out of the cloth, shoulders slumped and not having enough strength to get his hand to lift to shield his eyes from the onset of light. It took a few moments for Ron’s face to come into focus, the other teen’s cheeks flushed and gaze… sheepish, almost.
“I’m so sorry about that, mate. Forgot you were there,” he admitted, free hand raising to rub at the back of his neck.
Harry’s lips parted, sticky from the thin layer of cum that coated them like the rest of his bare body. “Forgot?” he rasped, following the word with a sound that could be either interpreted as a cough or an incredulous wheeze.
Ron’s lip quirked slightly, and his shoulder raised in a half-hearted shrug. “You’re a bit easy to forget about, like this,” he tried to joke, shifting a finger to rub at Harry’s cum-slick hair in a makeshift noogie.
Harry feebly ducked away from the touch, and he shook his head slowly. “No,” he refused in a whisper.
Ron’s head tilted, a small crinkle forming between his brows as he set his finger back behind Harry’s slumped shoulders. “What was that, mate? Can’t really hear you well,” he noted.
“Y-you didn’t - couldn’t have forgotten,” Harry said, louder, gaze set fixedly on his own, slightly shaking hands. He wasn’t sure why he was only trembling now. Maybe it was the post adrenaline rush, he dimly thought.
“I did, though,” Ron insisted, fingers tightening around Harry and making the smaller flinch.
Harry’s head snapped up, and he suddenly found himself glaring at impossibly large blue eyes, pure, boiling rage bubbling at his blood. “You fucking jerked your cock with me on it,” Harry seethed, voice raising to a shout at the end and small hands clenching onto the knuckle of Ron’s pointer finger.
Ron stared blankly at him, and, as the seconds continued to tick by without a response, a heavy, terrible sense of foreboding laid itself like a thick blanket across Harry’s back.
He futilely jerked away from Ron’s face as a slow, devious grin crept up on the latter’s lips.
“Well,” Ron said blasély, voice as smooth as velvet, “since you already know, I guess there’s no point in stopping,” he finished lightly. His thumb crept up to dip under Harry’s chin and rub gently at Harry’s already constricted-feeling throat. “After all, we have all of winter break. Just you and me, don’t we, Harry?” he said softly, his smile never leaving his lips.