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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
- 10
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CH.11 - Hagrid's new toy
The familiar chaos of Monday classes provided a strange sense of normalcy for Ginny, a thin veneer over the thrillingly twisted reality her life had become. As she left Transfiguration, her mind still partially on the intricacies of Switching Spells, a large shadow fell over her.
“All righ’, Ginny?” Hagrid’s voice boomed, warm and familiar as ever. He stood beaming down at her, his moleskin overcoat smelling of woodsmoke and peat.
“Hagrid! Hi!” she said, a genuine smile spreading across her face. Despite the secret they now shared—or rather, the secret she thought only she and the boys shared—her affection for the gentle half-giant was unchanged.
“Just finished me rounds with the young Hippogriffs,” he said, shifting his crossbow to his other shoulder. “Fancy a cuppa? Got some of those treacle tarts you like.”
The invitation was so ordinary, so Hagrid, that any hesitation was instantly quashed. “I’d love to,” Ginny said, falling into step beside him, her shorter strides struggling to keep up with his loping gait.
They chatted easily on the path down to his hut—about her classes, his creatures, how the Weasley family was doing. It was all perfectly normal. The knot of nervous excitement in Ginny’s stomach felt out of place, a secret seed planted in otherwise familiar soil.
Inside the cozy hut, the atmosphere shifted subtly. Fang thumped his tail in greeting from his spot by the fire, but didn’t get up. Hagrid busied himself with the kettle, his enormous hands moving with a surprising delicacy among the chipped mugs. He handed her a tartlet and poured the tea, the silence stretching for a beat too long.
Then he turned, leaning his bulk against the heavy wooden table, and fixed her with a look that was no longer just genial. There was a new, sharp curiosity in his dark eyes.
“So,” he began, his voice dropping from its usual boom to a low, conspiratorial rumble. “Enjoy yer time with Fang on Saturday, did yeh?”
The tart turned to dust in Ginny’s mouth. She froze, her mug halfway to her lips. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a snared bird. How? How could he possibly know? She stared at him, her eyes wide with pure, unadulterated shock. The lie died on her tongue, rendered useless by the sheer impossibility of the situation. The truth spilled out in a breathless, terrified whisper.
“Y-you… you know?”
Hagrid’s face broke into a wide, knowing grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “’Course I know. Wasn’t asleep. Not really.” He let the implication hang in the air for a moment, watching the blush flood her cheeks, seeing the mixture of horror and a strange, dawning excitement in her expression. “Quite a show yeh put on. Reckon yeh liked it a fair bit.”
Ginny could only nod, her face burning. She was utterly exposed.
Seemingly satisfied, Hagrid’s grin didn’t fade. Instead, it grew. With a deliberate slowness, he undid the laces of his trousers. “Seems a shame Fang got to have all the fun,” he rumbled.
And then he took out his cock.
Ginny’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes, wide with a kind of terrified fascination, were glued to it. It was monstrous. Thick, veined, and impossibly long, it dwarfed Fang’s, dwarfed the squid’s tentacles, dwarfed anything her mind could have ever conceived. It was a part of Hagrid himself—massive, primal, and utterly intimidating.
She was paralyzed, unable to move as he stepped toward her. His large, work-roughened hands made quick work of her witch’s robes and the simple cotton underwear beneath, stripping her with an efficiency that left her standing naked and shivering before him, not from cold, but from sheer, overwhelming anticipation.
He didn’t guide her to the floor. Instead, he simply bent and picked her up as if she weighed no more than one of his pumpkins. He held her aloft with one arm, her huge boobs against his chest, her legs dangling. With his other hand, he positioned himself at her entrance. She was already slick, her body betraying her fear with a ready, wanting wetness.
There was no gentle probing, no slow penetration. Hagrid, driven by a hunger he’d long suppressed and the thrilling memory of Saturday, simply aimed and thrust upwards, sheathing his enormous cock inside her in one stroke.
Ginny cried out, a sharp, guttural sound that was swallowed by the cozy confines of the hut. But as the initial shock faded, it wasn’t agony that followed. It was an all-consuming, mind-obliterating fullness. Her body, a rare and magical vessel, accepted him perfectly. Her inner walls stretched to accommodate his girth without tear or strain, a supernatural elasticity meeting overwhelming force and transforming it into pure, undiluted sensation. Ginny wondered why she wasn't split in half instead, but that thought quickly left her as she was in no state to think at all.
Hagrid groaned, a deep, earth-shaking sound of pleasure. He began to move her, using his immense strength to slide her small body up and down the length of his shaft as if she were nothing more than a living, breathing cock sleeve. His grip on her waist was firm, possessive, controlling every inch of her movement.
For Ginny, the world dissolved. There was no hut, no Fang, no Monday classes. There was only the brutal, rhythmic claiming, the feeling of being utterly filled and used. Each downward slide drove the air from her lungs; each upward pull was a tantalizing preview of the next deep plunge. The pleasure was a constant, screaming current in her veins, too intense to process, building and building with no release, a sustained peak of ecstasy that was both torture and nirvana.
After thirty minutes of this relentless, brain-melting friction, her mind simply shut down. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and her body went completely limp in his arms, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she fell into unconsciousness, overwhelmed by the sensory onslaught.
Hagrid didn’t stop. He held her unconscious form, continuing to piston into her slack body, the sight of her complete surrender fueling his own powerful climax. After what felt like an eternity of pounding her insensate form, he finally grunted, his entire massive frame shuddering as he buried himself to the hilt and erupted. His release was a hot, seemingly endless flood, filling her to overflowing, a claiming far more personal and potent than the dog’s.
Sometime later, Ginny stirred. Consciousness returned slowly, along with the deep, satisfying ache between her legs and the cool air on her damp skin. She was lying on the rug before the fire, a rough blanket thrown over her. Hagrid was back at the table, sipping tea as if nothing had happened.
She sat up, the blanket pooling around her waist. Her body felt profoundly used, every muscle loose and relaxed. The memory of what happened washed over her—the shock, the confession, the sheer, unbelievable size of him, the way he had handled her, the pleasure so intense it had stolen her consciousness. A deep, rosy blush covered her body, but it was accompanied by a slow, sated smile.
She had been used like a toy by Hagrid, the gentle gamekeeper, the man she’d always seen as a second father. And. She. Had. Loved. Every. Second. The taboo was immense, the complexity of her feelings a tangled web, but her body, honest and primal, held only the echo of extreme pleasure and a deep, satiated contentment. She looked over at him, not with shame, but with a new, awe-filled respect.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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What if Ginny is the only girl at Hogwarts?