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What if Ginny is the only girl at Hogwarts?	By : Kujira Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 4145 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
CH.10 - Fang
The plan was hatched with a nervous, giddy energy that thrummed through the group as they made their way down to Hagrid’s hut that Saturday afternoon. The sky was a clear, pale blue, a stark contrast to the dark, thrilling purpose that propelled them forward. Seamus had ‘borrowed’ a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky from his own stash, knowing it was one of Hagrid’s few weaknesses.
Hagrid’s booming greeting was as warm as ever. “Well, if it isn’t me favorite students! Come in, come in! Got a fresh batch o’ rock cakes!” The hut was cozy and cluttered as always, the enormous boarhound Fang lifting his head from his paws by the fire to thump his tail lazily before dozing off again.
They made small talk, the boys a chorus of forced cheerfulness, while Ginny sat quietly on a stool, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her heart was a frantic drum against her ribs. Hagrid, delighted by the company and the gift, poured himself a generous tumbler of Firewhisky, and then another. He regaled them with stories of the new Granian foals and a particularly feisty baby Knarl that had taken up residence in his pumpkin patch.
The boys laughed in all the right places, their eyes constantly flicking to the large man. Slowly, the potent alcohol worked its magic. Hagrid’s speech grew slower, his gestures more expansive and clumsy. His great head began to nod, his eyelids drooping. Within an hour, he was slumped over his massive table, a soft, rumbling snore vibrating through the hut. A half-empty glass of Firewhisky sat precariously near his elbow.
A silent, charged look passed between the five boys. The plan was in motion. Harry cast a quick Muffliato charm at the door and windows, sealing them in a bubble of privacy. The atmosphere in the hut shifted instantly, the cozy warmth replaced by a thick, anticipatory tension.
They turned as one to look at Ginny. Her face was already flushed a deep, tell-tale pink, her breath coming in shallow little pants. The evidence of her arousal wasn't just on her face; a dark, damp patch was visibly spreading on the fabric of her jeans where she sat, a silent testament to the thoughts racing through her mind.
With trembling fingers, she stood and began to undress. Each article of clothing felt like a barrier being removed, not just from her body, but from her inhibitions. The boys watched, their own hands moving to free their already stiffening cocks, stroking themselves slowly as the show began. Soon, she stood completely naked before them, her skin glowing in the firelight, her body a pale offering in the rustic hut.
Fang, roused by the movement and the new, potent scent in the air, got to his feet. He sniffed the air, his large, droopy eyes fixing on Ginny. A low whine escaped him.
Ginny approached him slowly, her heart hammering. She reached out with a shaky hand, her fingers gently stroking the coarse fur of his flank before moving to his sheath. Fang’s reaction was immediate and visceral. A low growl rumbled in his chest, not of aggression, but of primal instinct. As her fingers made contact, his cock began to emerge, thick, red, and rapidly swelling to an intimidating size.
Swallowing her fear, driven by a need she barely understood, Ginny dropped to her knees. She leaned forward, her fiery hair brushing the stone floor, and tentatively took the tip of his cock into her mouth. It was warm, and the taste was musky and animalistic. The act itself was so profoundly degrading, so far from anything human, that a fresh wave of wetness soaked her thighs. Fang’s hips gave an involuntary thrust, and Ginny pulled back, coughing slightly.
That small act was all the encouragement the massive dog needed. With a powerful lunge that was startlingly quick for his size, he was upon her. His front paws slammed into her bare back, forcing her down onto the rough-hewn stone floor with a gasp that was half-pain, half-shock. He mounted her, his weight immense and crushing, pinning her effortlessly.
There was no tenderness, no ceremony. This was pure, raw instinct. Fang’s hips began to piston with a frantic, animal rhythm, his swollen knot slamming against her entrance with each thrust. The initial penetration was a shocking, stretching burn that made Ginny cry out, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the cold stone. But the pain was almost instantly consumed by a tidal wave of sensation. The sheer, brutal fullness was unlike anything she had ever felt—more invasive than the squid’s tentacles, more overwhelmingly real than the boys’ combined attentions.
Her cries quickly morphed from pain into ragged, desperate moans. Her body, betraying every rational thought, responded with violent, involuntary climaxes. She came again and again, her inner muscles fluttering and clenching around the massive, driving intrusion, each orgasm ripped from her by the relentless, mindless pounding. Her vision blurred at the edges, the world narrowing to the smell of dog, the scrape of stone on her skin, and the devastating pleasure-pain radiating from her core.
The boys watched, utterly transfixed, their hands working their own cocks in a frantic, synchronized rhythm. The sight was beyond anything they could have fantasized: Ginny, their Ginny, being ruthlessly taken like a bitch in heat by the enormous boarhound, her body jolting with each powerful thrust, her moans filling the charmed silence. They came in spurts, their releases shooting across her prone form—striking her back, her buttocks, the back of her thighs—marking her as theirs even as she was being claimed by the beast. The hot splashes of their cum on her skin seemed to drive her even higher, her moans growing louder, more broken.
This went on for what felt like an eternity, a continuous loop of animalistic fucking and shattering climax. After nearly an hour of this intense, single-minded rutting, Fang’s rhythm became even more frantic, his thrusts shallower and harder. With a final, deep, guttural growl that vibrated through Ginny’s entire body, he slammed into her one last time and locked himself inside her with his knot. A hot, prodigious flood erupted deep within her, filling her, a seemingly endless torrent of animal seed that made her stomach bulge slightly. She screamed into the floor, her body convulsing in one final, overwhelming orgasm that left her completely boneless, utterly spent.
Fang remained lodged inside her for several long minutes, panting heavily, before he finally withdrew, his cock slick with their mixed fluids. He gave himself a satisfied shake and ambled back to his spot by the fire, collapsing into a contented heap, leaving Ginny lying prone on the floor in a puddle of sweat, saliva, dog cum, and their own.
The boys, their own energy completely spent, could only stare at the aftermath. Ginny didn’t move. She just lay there, breathing raggedly, her body trembling with aftershocks, her pussy visibly gaped and overflowing with the evidence of the encounter. The hut was silent save for Hagrid’s snoring, Fang’s panting, and their own ragged breaths. The first successful step of their dark new project was complete.
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The silence in the hut was thick and heavy in the aftermath, broken only by Hagrid’s convincing, rumbling snores and Fang’s contented panting by the fire. For a long moment, the five boys and Ginny simply remained frozen, the sheer animal reality of what had just transpired hanging in the air like a physical presence.
It was Harry who moved first, his movements sharp with a mixture of residual arousal and the urgent need to cover their tracks. He pulled his wand, his hand slightly unsteady. “Scourgify,” he whispered, the spell sweeping over the stone floor where Ginny had lain, vanishing the puddles of sweat and other fluids. The other boys followed suit, their wands flicking in a silent, coordinated effort. They magically wiped down Fang’s damp fur, straightened the rugs, and ensured not a single strand of Ginny’s red hair remained out of place.
They helped Ginny to her feet. Her legs were trembling so violently she could barely stand. Her face was still flushed a deep, post-coital red, her eyes glazed and distant. With gentle, almost reverent hands, they helped her back into her jeans and sweater, their fingers lingering on her warm, sensitive skin. The act of dressing her felt like a ritual, re-clothing their shared secret.
Ron, trying to inject some normalcy into the surreal situation, scribbled a quick note on a scrap of parchment he found on the table: Had to head back for dinner, Hagrid! Thanks for the rock cakes! He propped it against the empty Firewhisky bottle.
As they slipped out of the hut and into the cool evening air, the tension began to melt, replaced by a giddy, nervous energy. The path back to the castle was lined with the long shadows of twilight.
“Merlin’s beard, Ginny,” Seamus breathed, his voice full of awed laughter. “The sounds you were making… I thought the Muffliato was going to crack!”
“A regular bitch in heat, you were,” Dean added, his tone teasing but laced with unmistakable admiration. “Fang certainly knew what to do with you.”
“Looks like we’ve discovered your true calling,” Harry said, a crooked grin on his face as he nudged her gently. “Hogwarts’ official creature comfort.”
Ginny kept her head down, but a small, shy smile played on her swollen lips. Instead of denying it or acting offended, she found herself leaning into their crude, possessive teasing. Each joke, each lurid observation, was a reaffirmation of what they had all shared. It was a secret language that bound them together, making her feel seen and understood in her most depraved desires. The humiliation was there, a hot flush on her skin, but it was inextricably tangled with a deep, thrilling sense of belonging. She was enjoying their company more than she ever had, because now they knew her completely.
Back inside the warm, brightly lit castle, the group began to relax, the dark magic of the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid’s hut feeling like a distant, exhilarating dream.
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Meanwhile, in the now-silent hut, the moment the door clicked shut, Hagrid’s rhythmic snoring ceased. His large, dark eyes, which had been slit open for the better part of an hour, now opened fully. A slow, deep grin spread across his bearded face, one of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.
He had never been asleep. The first glass of Firewhisky had warmed him, the second had made him drowsy, but the sudden, charged shift in the room’s atmosphere had jolted him into perfect, silent wakefulness. He had watched it all through half-closed eyes: the undressing, the kneeling, the brutal, relentless taking. He’d seen the boys, wands out, stroking themselves, and he’d seen Ginny, his clever, fiery, incredibly attractive little Ginny, being utterly ravished by his dog.
And he had loved every second of it.
He’d always had a soft, secret spot for Ginny Weasley. She was all spirit and fire, with a woman’s shape that had filled out in a way he couldn’t help but notice. To see that spirit submit so completely, to see that body used in such a raw, animalistic way… it was the most arousing thing he had ever witnessed. He shifted on his large sofa, adjusting his own considerable bulk as he felt a powerful stirring in his trousers.
He chuckled to himself, a low, rumbling sound that echoed Fang’s contented sighs. He picked up the note, his grin widening. They thought they were so clever. They had no idea they had just provided him with the most thrilling private show of his life, and awakened in him a keen interest in their little project.
He looked over at Fang, who was already asleep. “Good boy,” Hagrid murmured, his voice thick with meaning. “Very good boy.” The game, he knew, had just gotten much, much more interesting.
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- 11
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What if Ginny is the only girl at Hogwarts?