Chapter Text
I want out.
“Huh?” said Harry, turning to Ron.
“What?” said Ron, irritably, without looking up from the Sopophorus Beans he was trying to mince,
“I thought I heard you say something,” explained Harry. “Something about getting out of here.”
“Maybe you're turning into a Legilimens,” offered Ron in an undertone. “'Getting out of here' has to be the most pressing issue on everyone's mind, except perhaps Hermione's.”
Harry laughed.
“Must be that, yeah.”
I want out NOW.
This time it had almost been a shout, and Harry looked up from his ingredients, certain that he was finally going to find out what was going on. To his great dismay, nobody else seemed to have noticed the mysterious outburst.
“Are you OK, Harry?”
“Yeah,” lied Harry, hating the mixture of anxiety and pity he saw in Hermione's eyes. “Yeah, I just, er, remembered I haven't finished my Charms paper.”
“Oh,” said Hermione, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Don't worry, it isn't due until Friday, you still have plenty of time to put the finishing touches on it.”
“Er, sure.”
It was now painfully clear that Harry was, once more, the only one in the room who could hear the voice at all. Why does it always have to be me, he thought, weakly. Why can't it happen to Ron for once, or Hermione, or–
I MUST COME OUT
This was the loudest the voice had been yet, and Harry was both relieved and baffled to see that somebody else appeared to finally have noticed something was happening: Blaise Zabini, who was wrinkling his nose at a very pink Malfoy.
“Did Malfoy just belch?” asked Ron, apparently very entertained by the possibility. “Gross! I hope he's coming down with a case of the slugs.”
Malfoy burped again, this time with no disembodied voice covering up the sound. He looked very unwell, Harry thought – Ron's diagnosis didn't sound too far-fetched.
“Professor, can I be excused?” Malfoy asked, in a weird, strangled voice – one, Harry felt, that was definitely tinged with panic.
§
“He's up to something.”
“Yeah,” agreed Ron, exchanging a meaningful glance with Hermione. “Puking his brains out, from the look of him.”
“Harry,” said Hermione, in a reasonable tone. “Ron is right. Malfoy looked very sick, he's probably in the infirmary.”
“He's not,” said Harry, testily. “As a matter on fact, he's not anywhere on the map.”
“Maybe they've floo'ed him to St. Mungo,” said Ron, hopefully. “Maybe he's dead.”
“Ron!” said Hermione, scandalized.
“All right, all right, he's not dead, I'm sure he – Harry, are you still with us?”
“Of course,” said Harry, smacking his forehead. “He must be in the room of requirement! I'll take the Cloak, go see what he's up to.”
“Right, mate,” said Ron, rolling his eyes. “Go thwart Malfoy's evil vomiting plan. See you at dinner.”
§
Harry waited almost two hours for Malfoy to finally emerge – pale and sweaty, looking for all the world like he had indeed been busy puking up his last few meals – from the Room of Requirement.
Let me out or I'll kill you
The voice was stronger now that Malfoy was, unbeknowst to him, closer to Harry – almost as if had come from Malfoy himself. Malfoy hadn't opened his mouth, though, but merely winced and pressed a hand to the front of his robes. He looked so miserable that Harry, in spite of everything, felt a vague twinge of sympathy.
I must find a way out
Malfoy winced again, leaning against the wall with his free hand. He seemed to be in a great amount of pain.
“Fuck this,” he hissed, his eyes squeezed shut. “I'm going back in.”
§
The Room was smaller and cozier than Harry had ever seen it, with no signs of anything potentially nefarious except for an apparently empty cauldron set before the roaring fireplace. Malfoy, still grimacing, staggered to an old armchair in the corner and gingerly lowered himself into it.
OUT OUT OUT
Malfoy groaned, beads of sweat forming on his delicate brow. Harry crept closer.
OUT
The voice was definitely coming from Malfoy, Harry concluded, baffled. Was he possessed? Was he secretly a ventriloquist? He had no time to ponder the issue, because all of a sudden Malfoy – evidently unconfortable in the very warm Room – began disrobing, and a shocking development presented itself to Harry's eyes.
Malfoy's stomach was enormous, a giant, round mass barely covered by Malfoy's shirt. Harry had never seen anything like it, except possibly on very pregnant women. On Malfoy's otherwise lean, elegant frame, the great swollen orb looked positively absurd. Harry wondered how it would feel to the touch.
YES
This time, the voice had been triumphant. Malfoy yelped, his hand shooting to the top of his belly. His eyes were wide with... shock? Anxiety? Anticipation? Harry, mesmerized by the sight before his eyes, couldn't really tell. As if answering Harry's silent prayers, Malfoy started to undo his shirt buttons.
Malfoy's stomach was as pale as the rest of him, the skin so taut it was almost shiny. The huge swell, Harry realized, was in the upper part, jutting out uncomfortably from beneath Malfoy's ribcage, while the lower part of his abdomen was mostly flat, to the point that he had been able to button his school trousers over his narrow hips. Malfoy groaned again, leaning back into the armchair with his eyes closed and rubbing his distended organ.
Over the course of the next several minutes, with no further messages from the mysterious voice, Harry became aware of the fact that the mass inside Malfoy's abdomen was progressively shifting down, so that his lower abdomen was becoming more and more rounded out. He wondered if Malfoy – his eyes still closed, his hand still on his stomach, had realized. He looked like he could have fallen asleep.
Too many twists
The voice sounded angry again, but Harry was too distracted to care – beneath the creamy surface of the side of Malfoy's belly, clear as day, he had just spotted the distinct outline of the thing that was inside him – the thing that only Harry could hear: a snake, its triangular head slowly but surely leading the way through Malfoy's poor intestines.
Malfoy jolted awake – he had indeed been asleep, it looked like – and glanced down in shock at his changed abdomen. His inflated lower belly was now straining his trousers, so he unbuttoned them. He looked very pregnant, Harry thought, his dick hardening at the idea of what Malfoy was about to go through.
“No, no, no,” said Malfoy, tears pooling in his eyes. “Not like that, it can't be, no!”
yes
“No,” said Malfoy again, and by now he was sobbing, his hands clutching the great mass of his snake-filled gut. “I can't do it, I'll die.”
“You won't die,” said Harry, letting the cloak slide to the floor. Malfoy looked up, weakly surprised. “It's a snake, I'll talk to it, I'll make sure it doesn't hurt you.”
“I know it's a snake, Potter,” hissed Malfoy through gritted teeth. He was apparently in so much discomfort that the shock of Harry suddenly materializing by his side ranked pretty lowly on his scale of priorities. “That's what the ritual was for. I just never knew it was going to came out of my – aaah!”
almost there
“Where did you think it was going to came out of?”
“I've no idea, do I? Magic, I figured. It even tried my bloody mouth, but now I can feel–”
“Take off your pants,” said Harry, quickly. “Spread your legs. Let me see.”
“What? No. Absolutely not.”
“Do you want the snake to rip you apart? Be my guest.”
Malfoy was silent for a moment, his pale eyes wide, apparently contemplating his options.
“All right,” he conceded eventually, and he kicked off his his shoes. Harry, trying not to let him see how much he was enjoying the whole thing, helped him out of his trousers and pants. Malfoy's dick was just as hard as Harry's, probably on account of the snake's pressing against his prostate, the tip purple and wet.
“Let me see what we're dealing with,” said Harry, guiding Malfoy's feet to the armrests. Below Malfoy's tight ballsack and visibly bulging perineum was his asshole, tiny, pink and pristine. Harry thought again of the size of the snake's head and felt his head spin.
“Right,” he said, leaning closer to the small hole. “I'm going to talk to it.”
Malfoy nodded, a pained look on his face.
Wait, said Harry. Don't come out yet.
I'm hungry, protested the snake.
If I feed you, will you wait?
Maybe, said the snake. Depends on what you bring me.
§
“I really don't think this is a good idea,” said Malfoy, weakly.
“It's our best chance,” said Harry, crouching between Malfoy's legs, meticulously coating a chicken egg in oil. “I've seen the size of that thing, if it comes out before you're ready it's going to tear you apart.”
“But now you're feeding it! You'll only make it grow bigger!”
“It's just a few eggs,” said Harry, waving Malfoy's concerns aside. “To buy us time while we figure out how to do this as safely as possible. Now hold still and try to relax.”
Malfoy's ass was clenched so tightly, Harry thought, that despite all the lubrication he'd have had an easier time trying to slide an egg through the eye of a needle. Inside his swollen gut, the snake was starting to grow restless.
Food. Now.
“Malfoy,” said Harry. “Something's really going to have to either come in or come out very soon.”
Malfoy chewed on his lower lip.
“It's not easy,” he complained, wearily. “I've never had anything up my ass before.”
“Nothing? Not even a finger?”
Malfoy shook his head.
“Well, you're missing out,” said Harry, trying to mask the excitement he was feeling. “Especially considering how – judging from how hard your dick is right now – you seem to really enjoy having things up your ass.”
Malfoy blushed scarlet. Harry grinned.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Touch yourself. It'll make it easier.”
Malfoy sighed.
“Well versed in the subject, Potter, are you?”
“Quite,” said Harry, with a wink, and he pressed the smaller tip of the egg against Malfoy's tiny hole. Malfoy sighed again and wrapped his slender fingers around his erection.
“You won't be able to actually come with so much pressure against your prostate,” explained Harry, noticing with satisfaction that Malfoy's hole was already relaxing slightly. “But it should feel pretty glorious all the same, am I right?”
“Yes,” grunted Malfoy, so lost in his wank that he didn't pay attention to the egg that was slowly slipping past his ring of muscle. “Yes,” he repeated, his free hand rubbing his swollen stomach. “Yes, it's brilliant. I feel so full.”
“You're about to be fuller,” said Harry, his dick painfully hard, and he pushed the egg all the way in.
“Oh,” said Malfoy, pausing mid-stroke. “Potter, is that your finger I'm feeling inside my ass?”
“It is,” confirmed Harry, overwhelmed by the intoxicating warmth of Malfoy's ass tightening back up in the wake of the egg. “Just making sure the egg is going where he needs to be.”
“Please be very thorough,” said Malfoy, resuming his slow stroking. “Very, very thorough.”
§
Half an hour later, having been fed six chicken eggs, the snake had returned contentedly to a slightly higher position inside Malfoy's intestines, so that its head was no longer pressing down inside his rectum.
“Now you should be able to come,” said Harry, two fingers knuckle-deep inside Malfoy's ass. “It's all clear in here.”
“I sort of miss it,” said Malfoy, rubbing his gut pensively. The huge lenght of snake curled up inside him made him look pregnant with twins. “I was getting used to the pressure.”
“I can call the snake back down, if you want to,” said Harry, raising an eyebrow. Without fully meaning to, he realized, he was slowly pumping his two fingers in and out of Malfoy's asshole. “If you miss it.”
“Well, actually, Potter,” said Malfoy, looking down at Harry with a pleading look in his beautiful eyes. “Actually, I was wondering if there were, er, other ways to go about it.”