Disclaimer: not mine.
Harry Potter was in a terrible, terrible predicament.
It wasn't just some usual teenage angst. It wasn't anything remotely connected to romance or Cho Chang (that slut). It wasn't anything to do with his academic studies or the fact that if he didn't give Snape a free blowjob, he had 0 of passing Potion with a decent grade. And it REALLY didn't bother him in the slightest bit that Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were currently screwing the heads off each other on the couch beside him, hoping that Harry was blind without his glasses and deaf because…well…that boy had all sorts of problems. Nor did Neville's confession to him that he was a premature ejaculator and felt that Harry was the only one who understood him. No, Harry Potter was beyond that (at least he thinks).
Harry Potter was, for lack of better words, too well-endowed for his liking. All thanks to Draco Malfoy aka Evil Darklord Lapdog Junior. Sure, to be gifted in that department had always been every teenage boys' unattainable dream. But perhaps having a 12-wide penis was a bit excessive, at least in Harry's opinion.
And what made it worse was the fact that it was short and fat. It seemed like an appendage that should have belonged to Crabbe or Goyle but never to the perfect, famous and fabulously sexually confused Harry Potter.
In short, Harry Potter was, understandably, extremely furious. Not only had he acquired an abnormal body organ but he had only rebutted Draco Malfoy's evil plot with a beaver-transformation spell. He knew he should have listened in all those Transfiguration classes. He only ever got the teeth right.
As Harry contemplated for an extended period of time, he finally noticed that there were some serious squirming and groaning beside him. He turned his head and looked…
…
…
…
and immediately knew that he would regret this impulsive action for the rest of his life. He just did not need to know Hermione's D-cup boobs which she had incredibly developed over the summer were wrinkled and droopy. He absolutely wished he never saw 69 in action with the participants being his two best friends. And he thought that discovering that Ron squawked like a constipated weasel and Hermione squealed in the fashion of a beaver in heat upon approaching their respective climaxes had scarred him for life.
Harry planted his feet wide apart in order to not touch that delicate area and cause an unwanted reaction (whether pleasurable or painful) and stood up with great difficulty.
And fell.
And stood up, while attempting to maintain his dignity.
He checked himself all over for imaginary specks of semen that Ron had emitted. And found a string of very suspicious fluids on his shoulders. Not so imaginary after all. He glared at the couple.
"I'm going for a WALK," he announced to his pre-occupied audience.
With that, Harry(with dignity of course) huffed and puffed out of the Gryffindor common room. It was lunchtime and he was sure that everyone would be in the Great Hall stuffing themselves to death. Hence, no one would witness his embarrassing situation and he would have a carefree, mind-clearing, meditating walk around the school.
Or so he thinks…
AN: I know…I've abandoned this story for like…ages. But recently, a friend has encouraged me to continue. Please review because our opinions MATTER.