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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
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CH.23 - Ginny's new life at Hogwarts
The news broke at breakfast. It wasn't announced, but it didn't need to be. It was in the way Harry passed Ginny the marmalade, his fingers brushing hers a moment too long. It was in the way she leaned her head on his shoulder for a brief, intimate second before heading to her own classes. By lunchtime, the whisper had become a roar: Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley were officially a couple.
The reaction across the Great Hall was a study in contrasts. In the Gryffindor corner, there was a general, if slightly wistful, air of celebration. Ron, though initially looking like he'd swallowed a particularly sour Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean, clapped Harry on the back with genuine, brotherly affection. Dean and Seamus offered their congratulations with wide grins, though their eyes held a shadow of genuine loss. Neville, blushing furiously, stammered out his best wishes.
For the rest of the school, however, the news was met with a wave of palpable jealousy. Ginny Weasley, with her fiery hair, confident swagger, and the increasingly noticeable curves that filled out her school robes, had been an object of fantasy for a significant portion of the male student body (especially after watching Ginny taking a bath every night). To see her claimed so publicly by the famous Harry Potter felt, to many, like a personal slight. Glowers and muttered curses were thrown his way from the Slytherin table, and even some Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws looked at him with newfound resentment.
Later that evening, in the common room, the four boys—Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville—cornered Harry by the fire.
"Really chuffed for you, mate," Ron said, his voice a mixture of sincerity and regret. "She's brilliant."
"She is," Harry agreed, smiling.
"It's just…" Seamus chimed in, running a hand through his hair. "Merlin's beard, Potter. You've gone and locked down the best and only ride in the castle. A tragic day for the rest of us."
Dean and Neville nodded in solemn, half-joking agreement. "A real loss for the team," Dean added with a theatrical sigh.
Harry saw his opportunity. He let his smile falter, replacing it with a pained, conflicted expression. He looked down at his hands, then around the common room as if checking for eavesdroppers. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial, strained whisper.
"Look… you're my best mates," he began, the picture of a man making a difficult sacrifice. "And… I know how much she… means to you all." He paused, letting the weight of his 'decision' hang in the air. "So… if you… if you still want to… you know… with Ginny… it's… it's alright with me."
The effect was instantaneous. The mood of mournful camaraderie vanished, replaced by stunned, elated disbelief.
"Are you serious?" Ron breathed, his eyes wide.
"You'd… you'd allow that?" Seamus asked, a massive grin spreading across his face.
Harry nodded, looking away as if he couldn't bear to watch their joy. "Just… don't make a big thing of it. And for Merlin's sake, don't tell anyone else."
They didn't need telling twice. They clapped him on the back, praising his unparalleled generosity, his legendary status as the best friend a bloke could have. They were so busy celebrating their unexpected reinstatement to Ginny's good graces that they failed to notice the girl in question, who was curled up on a nearby sofa pretending to be asleep.
Her face was turned away, buried in a cushion, but one eye was cracked open. And as the boys celebrated their 'victory' over Harry's apparent capitulation, that single, open eye met Harry's. He gave a slow, deliberate wink. A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touched Ginny's lips before she closed her eye again, the perfect picture of peaceful slumber. The secret was safe, their private game now had willing, unwitting participants, and the thrill of the deception was more intoxicating than any spell.
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And so, Ginny Weasley’s life at Hogwarts settled into a new, intoxicating rhythm. On the surface, little had changed. She was still, for all intents and purposes, the lone rose in a castle of thorns, the singular, vibrant focus of a school's worth of pent-up desire. The arrangement in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory remained, the large, circular bed a nightly stage for tangled limbs and shared warmth, a fact that was now an open secret wrapped in the guise of her official relationship with Harry.
The public facade was one of a happy, normal couple. They held hands in the corridors, shared butterbeers in Hogsmeade, and bickered affectionately over Quidditch tactics. But beneath the surface, their private world thrived on a different set of rules.
Each encounter, each "betrayal," was now a performance. When she slipped away to the Forbidden Forest, feeling the cool, powerful embrace of the Giant Squid's tentacles in the moonlit water, she knew Harry was there. She couldn't see him, but she could feel his gaze like a physical touch, heightening every sensation. Her moans were not just for her own pleasure, but for the invisible spectator she knew was listening, his breath catching with every shudder that wracked her body.
When she visited Hagrid's hut, the experience was transformed. The feeling of being a living, breathing toy in the half-giant's hands was now layered with the thrilling knowledge that Harry was witnessing her complete surrender. She would look towards a seemingly empty corner of the cabin, a secret smile playing on her lips as Hagrid used her with primal, grunting fervor, imagining the look on Harry's face hidden beneath the cloak.
Even the casual, friendly encounters with Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville were imbued with a new charge. They believed they were enjoying a secret privilege granted by a generous, if cuckolded, Harry. They would whisper their thanks to him later, clueless to the fact that their gratitude was the final, perfect spice to his own dark enjoyment. Ginny played her part perfectly, offering herself to them with a feigned sense of furtive excitement, all the while picturing Harry’s hidden, approving smile.
One element of her life remained a true secret, one that Harry kept locked away, a private treasure that amplified his pleasure in a way even Ginny’s knowledge could not. Every night,Harry would use a simple, silent spell from his wand which would activate the enchanted screen. There, in full view of every single Gryffindor boys (and sometimes Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Slytherins), Ginny would take her bath. Sometimes it was a normal, steamy soak to wash away the day’s exertions. Other times, it was a "cum bath," with their combined release a warm, slick sheen on her skin that she would languidly wash off. She performed this nightly ablution with a natural, unselfconscious grace, completely unaware that her most private moments were a public spectacle. For Harry, the thrill was in the deception, in the raw, unguarded intimacy she displayed for an audience she didn't know was there. It was the final piece of his control, the ultimate voyeuristic act.
The shadow of Malfoy’s threat still loomed, a cold spot in the back of her mind. The memory of his sneer and the magical orb was a constant, low-grade anxiety. But it was a fear she had learned to compartmentalize. The sheer, unadulterated joy of her current existence—the freedom of her body, the adoration of her audience, and, most of all, the deep, twisted bond she shared with Harry—outweighed the dread. She was living a life of taboo and transgression, a life where her deepest desires were not just accepted but celebrated by the one person whose opinion truly mattered. For Ginny Weasley, surrounded by lovers and watched by the boy she loved, every day was a forbidden fantasy, and she was, without a doubt, having the best time of her life.
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What if Ginny is the only girl at Hogwarts?