Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
Size DOES Matter, NC-17 
20th February 2007 14:25
Author: [info]eeyore9990
Title: Why Hermione Granger Would Not Recommend Crossing the Ocean in a Row Boat, or Size DOES Matter
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hermione/Hagrid
Kinks: Phallophilia
Warnings: See pairing. *g*
Words: ~3000
Disclaimer: Not mine, not making money.
A/N: Dedicated to [info]knightmare_shad, who didn't run screaming into the night when I told her what I was writing. Also, for [info]r_grayjoy, who did such a splendid job portraying Hagrid that I thought he definitely deserved some more lovin'.


She could hear him coming toward her, the branches of the forest snapping and crunching in his wake, and all she could think in this moment of trapped panic was, Why am I here?!

The answer flooded her with calm, if a sense of angry betrayal could be considered calm. She was here because they were all a bunch of fucking liars. And since she loathed profanity with a passion—it did nothing but exhibit the worst sort of mental inability to express oneself in an intelligent manner—the fact that she was even allowing herself to think the word “fuck” said quite a bit. She was so disgusted with the lot of them that she found herself shaking with an indirect rage at odd moments.

“Size doesn’t matter,” they all said. She’d even heard the phrase, “it’s not the size of the ship, it’s the motion of the ocean,” which, when one really put their mind to it—and she did, quite frequently—made absolutely no sense. Hermione shook herself and attempted to order her thoughts as she heard him come ever closer.

Hermione Granger, twenty two year old veteran of the Great War, was sexually unsatisfied, and she was here, on the grounds of Hogwarts, to correct that.

Her sex life should have read like an erotica novel. After all, she had spent countless hours pouring over every different sexual manual she’d been able to get her hands on before going to Ron to take care of her little problem with virginity. She’d thought about asking Harry, but she really didn’t think he had any more real experience than she did, and if she was going to do this with one of them, well… Ron had dated Lavender Brown for several months before they left Hogwarts. It stood to reason that, if nothing else, dating the dorm slut would afford him some level of technique that other boys wouldn’t have.

Instead, she’d found herself wondering, Is that IT?, after a miserable two and a half minutes spent under a furiously pumping—not to mention incredibly sweaty—teenager. And she’d thought that was her problem.

She’d gone to a teenager.

She’d been ready to smack herself in the forehead for that little—not to mention late—moment of revelation. So she’d picked herself up from Ron’s bed, managed to not crush his pride too much, and gone to Remus. Remus, though nice enough in his own way, hadn’t been too keen to help her gain experience. So then, she’d gone to Snape.

It had been marginally better, but she’d still been left wondering what the fuss was about. Not to mention, it had taken her three different sets of cleaning charms to remove the oily residue from her pillow.

Eight additional partners later and she was beyond frustrated. She was angry. It had taken her going to a Muggle sex shop and purchasing a variety of toys to understand that she’d been lied to all along. All those people who had ever told her—and other unwitting women—that the size of a man’s phallus didn’t matter, had done her a great disservice. The most enjoyment she’d ever received in a sexual situation had been when she’d applied the large purple dildo to her little “problem.”

That had been a study session to build dreams on.

But she couldn’t help thinking that it would have been far better to have experienced that dramatic moment of discovery while with an actual person. Preferably one whose equipment was naturally enhanced, so to speak. The one time she’d suggested an Engorgio on one of her partners, he’d become incensed—and limp—and stomped dramatically from her room.

Which brought her to where she was now: standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, approximately two seconds from seeing Hagrid for the first time in nearly a year. She pasted a bright smile on her face as he rounded the corner of his hut, a stack of firewood in his arms. When he saw her, the smile that lit his face and the whoop that filled the clearing was enough to remind her that Hagrid wasn’t just a sexual object, but a very good friend, too.

She nibbled on her lower lip as she wondered if it was really fair of her to take such advantage of a friend in this manner. She shrugged off that thought as she told herself rather sternly that she was certainly going to do all in her power to ensure he enjoyed himself as much as she did.

She relaxed minutely as he offered her a cuppa and pushed the door open, inviting her inside. She could barely keep her eyes off the large bed as she stepped into the warm, comfortable interior. As she settled at the table, her gaze became trapped on his large, work-roughened hands, and she didn’t realise that she’d stopped paying attention to the conversation until he called her name.

With a blush, she managed to focus on his large, hairy face, and cleared her throat delicately. There was really nothing for it but to simply state her case and lay it all on the line. “Hagrid, I have a proposition for you.”

Hagrid’s face scrunched up for a moment before it cleared again and he said, “Ah, you need sommat. Well, what’s it you need, then?”

Hermione’s smile was fairly strained, but she managed to keep her goal uppermost in mind. She was unsure of how to broach the subject but decided that since she’d always admired Hagrid’s forthright manner, that she’d just be blunt. “I’d like to know if you’d be willing to have sex with me.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just made vague gestures and weird facial expressions. When he began to turn blue around the lips, she realised that he’d managed to choke on the biscuit he’d been eating.

Perhaps “blunt” had been the wrong tack to take.

She stood swiftly and rounded the table to thump him between his shoulder blades, dislodging the offending food. As he coughed and sputtered, she poured him a cup of cool water from a pitcher on the counter and offered it to him, waiting for him to catch his breath.

“’Ermione, tha’s… well, yer quite th’ jokester now, aren’ yeh?”

Hermione sighed and sat at the table, knowing if she expected to get what she wanted that she’d be here for quite some time convincing him. “It was no joke, Hagrid. I’m very interested in pursuing a sexual relationship with you. I know we’re compatible as friends, and I’d simply like to … deepen that friendship, so to speak.”

His fist hit the table then, cracking the thick wood in the middle as he shouted, “Enough!” He dragged a hand through his hair then, his astonishment apparent in every line of his big body.

“’Ermione, I don’ know where ya’ got this idea from, but yeh put it right out o’ yer head now, hear?”

Hermione’s mouth set in a stubborn frown as she stared at Hagrid and said, “Why?”

Hagrid’s mouth opened and closed several times before he said, “Because it’s wrong, tha’s why.”

“It is not wrong! We’re both consenting adults—“

“Yer barely outta nappies!”

“I am twenty two years old! Old enough to do anything, including die for my country. You were perfectly fine with me and Ron and Harry facing down Death Eaters when we were too young to order a pint in a pub, but you’re going to argue with me about sex?”

Hagrid glared at her and said, “There’s quite a difference there—“

“Yes, I know,” Hermione interrupted him. “You’re not likely to kill me.”

Hagrid pushed back from the table, snatching their tea cups from it before he stomped over to his small kitchen area. “I ‘ave no idea wha’s gotten inta yeh, but in case ye’ve not noticed it, I’m old enough ta be yer dad.”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline at that. “Surely you’re not going to use age as an excuse? Hagrid, you receive magic from both sets of parents. Your mother was a giantess, which affords you a giant's life expectancy. On top of that, your father was a wizard. Wizard's live to be almost two hundred years old. Now, the fact that I am Muggle-born decreases my life expectancy to, at a maximum, one hundred and fifty years. So when you think about it in terms of portion of life lived, we've each lived nearly the same percentage of our total life expectancy. Which makes your argument illogical and specious.”

Hermione sighed and walked over to stand next to him, placing one hand on his arm to make him look at her. Holding his gaze with her own, she said quietly, “Hagrid, I’m attracted to you. If you aren’t attracted to me, then that’s one thing. But if you are, I see no reason for us to deny ourselves.”

“’Ermione, attraction’s got nothin’ ta do with it. Yer a very pretty girl, an’ what’s worse, yeh know it! But I’ve known yeh since ye were a wee little thing, jus’ eleven years old, and—“

Hermione turned and pulled herself onto the counter, her actions cutting off his words as he tried to figure out what she was doing. She settled onto the rough wood, her feet swinging freely beneath the countertop, her head even with the middle of his broad chest. “Kiss me, Hagrid. If there’s nothing there but friendship, we’ll find out quickly and be able to put this whole day behind us.” When he continued to hesitate, she placed one small hand over his heart and said, “Please?”

He scrubbed a hand over his weathered face and said, “All righ’, all righ’! I’ll kiss yeh, but tha’s it! Ye’ll see tha’ this was a foolish mistake and we’ll laugh abou’ it… some day.”

Hermione simply sighed impatiently and slid one hand into his wiry hair, tugging on it in an attempt to move things along. Hagrid bent stiffly and placed his lips against hers, not moving or doing anything else to encourage her. Hermione didn’t care, though. She’d managed to get him this far; it wouldn’t take much to get him the rest of the way. Soon, she’d have what she’d come for.

She moved her lips under his, teasing at the tightly held seam of his lips with her tongue, then nipped sharply at his bottom lip, trying to draw a reaction. She knew she’d succeeded when she felt one of his large hands press against her back, bringing her slightly closer to him. She nearly yelled in triumph, but managed to turn it into an encouraging little moan instead.

She managed to disentangle her fingers from his hair and slid them down his chest, stretching to reach for her ultimate goal, his cock. When her hands brushed against it, she whimpered with need. It wasn’t even fully hard yet, and it was easily twice the size of Ron’s. She felt him go perfectly still at her first touch, so she brought one hand up to stroke his cheek soothingly, even as she allowed the fingers of her other hand to caress him below.

His chest began to vibrate, which came out as a low growling sound, delighting her right down to her toes. He plucked her off her perch on the counter, reminding her again how much smaller she was than he, and crossed the room in a few swift strides. She set her nimble fingers to work, and managed to get his shirt completely unbuttoned before he set her on her feet on the mattress. It still made him taller than her, but the difference in their heights wasn’t quite so extreme.

She ripped at her own clothing then, not wanting to give him the chance to begin questioning the wisdom of moving their relationship forward again. When her bra fluttered from her fingers to the floor, his large, warm, roughened hands moved to cup her breasts, his touch light. She leaned into him, urging him to let go some of his restraint. “I won’t break, I promise.”

He shook his head and mumbled something about how tiny she was before he lowered his head and began kissing her neck. The bristly feeling of his beard against her neck and chest made the breath catch in her throat and she leaned into him, wanting more. She tugged and pulled on him, attempting to get him to lie down on the bed.

“I’ll crush yeh,” he protested.

“I plan on being on top,” Hermione said, chuckling lightly when blood rushed into what little she could see of his face.

The bed creaked as he lay back and she felt a nervous sort of anticipatory feeling fluttering in her stomach as she looked down at him. He was so big, but he was waiting for her to take charge, to take control. Her hands shook slightly as she reached down to unfasten his trousers. She’d come this far simply for what was inside them that she didn’t want to wait a moment longer.

When she pulled him out, she had to take a moment to just look. Then she held it in her hands, measuring him, length and girth. Hard, he was so thick she’d never be able to get him in her mouth, and her fingers just touched as she wrapped both hands around him. He made a noise then, and she looked up at him, catching the expression of astonishment that lit his eyes.

“What?” she asked, her voice a bare whisper.

“Yer not afraid at all, are yeh?”

“Afraid?” she asked, nearly sputtering on laughter. “Hagrid, I could never be afraid of you.”

“But… I’m so big. Too big fer yeh.”

She tried to hold back her smile, knowing it would be too smug in this situation, but she simply couldn’t restrain herself. Climbing on top of him—it would be an overstatement to say she straddled him, as it was more of a precarious perch on his lap—she settled herself so that her thighs rested to either side of his genitalia. “Hagrid… I like big. Here, feel how unafraid of you I am,” she said, and pulled his hand toward her, sliding it down between her thighs, moaning when his thick fingers parted her sex and slowly slid into her.

“’Ermione! Yer already—“ He pulled his hands away then, as if he’d been burned by the fire that was consuming her.

“Wet? God, yes. I’ve been thinking about this for so long now, and finally… Hagrid, I hope you don’t mind if I skip the preliminaries. I want you and I’m rather too impatient to wait any longer.”

She reached down then and smoothed the head of his cock all along her crease, until it glistened with moisture. His hands were opening and closing rapidly on the bed on either side of her, and she looked into his face, smiling sort of dazedly.

“It… I don’ wanna hurt yeh. ‘Ermione…”

“Shh, Hagrid. Don’t worry, it’ll be—“ She keened, high and long, as she forced her weight down on top of him, feeling his cock head push into her with an almost audible sound. “So full,” she moaned, her back arching with the overwhelming sensation. It wasn’t exactly pleasure, but it wasn’t pain. It was… everything she’d been searching for. She was stretched so wide and she’d barely taken any of him, but she felt so very satisfied that she didn’t even care if she came.

With short, bouncing movements, she began to ease herself down onto him, taking as much of him as she could before she simply ran out of room. He wrapped his hand around the remainder of his length and allowed his knuckles to lightly brush her clit as he began to stroke himself in counterpoint to her movements.

“Yessss, oh yes, Hagrid, touch yourself.” She placed her hands on his waist, leaning forward to allow her a better view of his hands as they moved over the base of his cock. She started forcing herself up and down faster, reaching for the dizzying heights she knew were just beyond her grasp. Her breathing became thin and panting as she watched him stroke himself faster, keeping pace with her.

As she watched, he shifted his grip on himself until his thumb lined up with her clit, and then he began to move it in small circles, making her nearly buzz with sensation. She lost all sense of rhythm then, her hips jerking against him as she tried to get more pressure on her clit while at the same time attempting to ride him hard and fast. She knew it hadn’t been long at all, but she simply couldn’t hold back any longer.

Black dots spread through her vision as her orgasm swept over her, but Hagrid was there to guide her through it. His large hands gripped her hips, easing her up and down as her inner muscles clenched down on him. It wasn’t until she was nearly recovered that he released her to fist his hands in the blankets, his cock swelling so much that she felt nearly split in two just before it started pulsing large amounts of come into her.

She pulled herself off of him then, crawling up to collapse against his chest. She knew without a doubt that she’d just experienced the best sex she might ever have, and she had no regrets. Her thighs might never be the same, but she could certainly attest to the fact that size did, indeed, matter.

She heard his breathing deepen out under her and smiled tiredly at the fact that he was that type. Just as she gave into her own exhaustion, she found herself idly wondering…

If it had been this good with Hagrid, what would Grawp be like?

~Fin~
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