Saturday Afternoon
16 May 2009
Harry's POV
"Oh, Harry," Hermione giggled and looked at me fondly like I was a lost puppy, and I didn't know whether to feel annoyed or grateful. Or both. "Do you not know about Grindr?"
"Grinder?" I asked. "No, never heard of it. The fuck is Grinder?"
"Well..." Hermione paused & bit her lip. "It's a Muggle app for... finding... men."
I stared at her for a moment.
"And?"
"Well. You might want to give it a go, is all," she said, smiling as she took a sip of her tea.
I was at the flat she shared with Ron for our regular Saturday afternoon tea and had been lamenting the awful luck I'd been having with the men I'd been pulling recently.
"I don't need any stupid app to find a bloke, Hermione," I huffed.
"Well, no," she paused and shot a cautious glance in my direction.
"What?"
"It's just that... with the app, I mean, I'm not 100% sure... as I've never used it... but, erm, I think you can set things to your... preferences. Or, you know, at least... swipe left on the ones who aren't your type?" she offered.
"What the hell are you going on about, my type," I demanded, fixing her with my best glare. She had the decency to blush and look sheepish as she stirred her tea.
"You know...." she murmured.
"No, Hermione, I don't know," I snapped, taking a gulp from my own cup. "I don't have a goddamn type unless you mean incredibly fit and male. Those are really about my only requirements."
So, The-Boy-Who-Lived turned out to be a bit of a slut. So what?
"Oi, mate, she's talking about your size obsession," Ron bellowed from the kitchen as he returned with a plate piled with biscuits and sandwiches. It was his second round, of course.
"I do not have a size obsession," I informed them with a roll of my eyes.
Truthfully, I did, but hell if I was going to admit that to either of them.
"But if I'm going to go through the trouble of taking it up the arse, I'd much rather I could feel it."
Ron pulled a face.
"I mean, honestly, Harry, I'd imagine you can feel just about anything going up your arse."
I didn't even deign Ron a response. Just flipped him the bird as I drained my tea, then reached for a sandwich from his plate.
"Harry...." Hermione had that look on her face that she got when she was about to win you because she was Hermione, and everything she said was right.
"You kicked a bloke out of your flat after bringing him home because he didn't quite measure up...."
"He. Was. This. Big!" I snapped, holding my pinky finger in front of Hermione's face.
"I'm not even kidding. Micro-dicks are a thing. Look it up. He had no business parading around as a top with a dick that size."
Hermione just continued to look at me with that expression, and Ron sniggered around his mouthful of biscuit, earning himself another glare.
"Well, then, this app would certainly make sure you don't ever encounter a similar situation ever again," Hermione assured me with a knowing smile that made me shift my glare to her and steal another sandwich from Ron.
An app, hmm? A Muggle app that I could use to find my perfect bloke, who had no idea I was Harry Fucking Potter? Too good to be true. I shook my head.
"What's swipe left mean?"
"Oh. Well, you see pictures, and you swipe right on your phone if you think he's cute... or, you know, you, erm, like what you see..."
"And... left, I suppose, if I don't?" I clarified.
Hermione nodded.
"That's great, 'Mione, with one exception. I mean, I know it's a Muggle thing, but I don't want my face out there, you know? What if another Wizard sees me?"
I was out to my friends and my teammates at Montrose but was already dreading the day when the Prophet would figure it out and have a field day with that juicy tidbit. I was hoping it would be once I'd decided to settle down with someone; I definitely didn't want it to be because some other wizard had seen my profile on a Muggle hook-up app.
"Well..." Hermione smiled slyly. "As far as I know, lots of blokes post photos without their faces in it. No one would suspect a thing."
***
I went home and spent about a half-hour having my phone take pictures of me at my best angles ensuring that no shots that would identify me since I was sure other wizards had to use the app.
I had to admit the photos turned out pretty nicely.
I'd filled out quite a bit since the Final Battle; a combination of eating regular meals, working out for Quidditch training, and finally giving a shit.
I actually looked good.
Instead of Dudley's stupid hand-me-downs, I now wore clothes that fit me.
Thanks to Ginny, I had jeans that hugged my arse and showcased the muscle of my thighs and knew to wear t-shirts or button-downs that fit properly and accentuated my sleek frame. I'd had no idea what Ginny was talking about when she'd told me this at first, but I'd had ridiculous success pulling blokes, so I figured she knew what she was talking about in the clothing department.
She'd also decided I needed to get my eyesight fixed, so I'd subjected myself to the slightly scary experience of having a Medi-Wizard fire a few spells at me to correct my vision.
Apparently, my eyes were gorgeous and took up my entire face now that the glasses were gone.
The hair, unfortunately, was still a mess. I'd pretty much given up on that.
I sighed and unlocked my iPhone to download the Grindr app.
I hated this part. Creating a profile. Ugh. I had half a mind to ask Hermione for help.
I decided to keep it simple and straightforward.
Gay, Bottom, Fit, Black hair, Green eyes, Perfect BJ mouth (so I've been told), mild sub- dom & dirty talk ok.
Height: 177cm
Weight: 72kg
Body Type: Muscular
Gender: Man
Pronouns: he/him/his (I seriously considered entering "Saviour," honestly)
Position: Bottom (mostly)
I Am: Single
Looking For: hookups
I read it over, then, because this was all supposed to help me find "my type" and my identity would be anonymous until we agreed to meet, I huffed a sigh and made the following addition to my little "profile" at the top:
Size does fucking matter.
Well. That had been easy enough, I suppose. Now all I had to do was wait.
***
Monday, 18 May 2009
My phone pinged, and I sat up, alert.
I had, of course, spent the afternoon swiping left and right and had initiated a few chats, but I wasn't really expecting a response so quickly. Certainly not now, while I was grabbing a quick bite with Ron and Hermione on their lunch break from their jobs at the Ministry.
Ron was an Auror, of course, and Hermione was an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. Neither Ron nor I even knew which department she worked for. Love? Thought? Time? Death? It could be any of them, honestly.
"So soon?" Ron sniggered, and I smacked him across the back of his head as deemed necessary by the situation.
"Shut up, arse" I muttered, pulling out my phone.
It was a response from a bloke whose profile identified him as a top with blond hair and blueish eyes, who was highly proficient in dirty talk and had a dick that was definitely worth the effort. We'd see about that.
Good. Fucking. Merlin.
God.
Hecate.
Lilith.
Allah.
Whoever.
I stared open-mouthed for a second before snapping my mouth shut.
It was a hand loosely curled around what appeared to be the largest, thickest cock I'd seen in my life. Either that or this bloke had hands the size of a baby's.
The photo was black-and-white, which made it almost seem artsy and not as crude as sending a colour one would have been, for some reason.
His hand was wrapped just about halfway up, as though he'd snapped the photo mid-stroke at the beginning of a good wank. You could see the thick base rising out of a tidy patch of pubic hair before disappearing into his closed fist, continuing up, up, up to a flared, wide head that was, frankly, begging my mouth for a slow, leisurely suck.
This cock was fucking perfect. And it would be in me by end of night.
Swipe fucking right, indeed.
"Well, Harry, any luck?" Hermione asked, smirking at my face.
Christ.
"Um, maybe," I lied, tucking my mobile back into my pocket. "We'll see."