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What if Ginny is the only girl at Hogwarts?	By : Kujira Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 8002 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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.24 - After the match
The roar of the Gryffindor common room was a physical force, a wall of sound celebrating their decisive victory over Ravenclaw during their Quidditch match. Butterbeer foamed over the rims of bottles, and the chants of “Weasley is our Queen!” for a particularly brutal goal she’d scored echoed off the stone walls. Ginny, flushed with adrenaline and triumph, laughed as Harry slung an arm around her, his own face smudged with dirt and beaming with pride.
Amid the chaos, she realized she’d left her bag in the team’s stadium changing room. “I’ll be right back,” she shouted in Harry’s ear over the din. He nodded, his attention already being pulled away by a jubilant Ron.
The walk across the darkening grounds was a contrast to the common room’s fever-pitch energy. The cool evening air was a relief on her heated skin. The Quidditch stadium stood silent and empty, the echoes of the match replaced by the chirping of crickets.
She was just approaching the changing room entrance when a tall figure detached itself from the shadows. Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw captain, leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his blue-trimmed robes. Even in defeat, he looked infuriately handsome, his chiseled features and perfect blond hair a picture of aristocratic poise.
He gave her a slow, gloomy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No mercy out there today, Weasley,” he said, his voice a smooth baritone. “You flew like you were trying to personally dismantle our entire team.”
Ginny laughed, a little breathlessly. “Sorry, Davies. Just doing my job.”
“A bit too well,” he replied, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer. The air between them shifted. The playful banter was gone, replaced by a heavier, more charged silence. “So, since you’ve single-handedly ruined my weekend,” he continued, his gaze dropping to her mouth, “is there anything you can do to make me feel better?”
Ginny’s heart began to hammer against her ribs. She knew this dance. She knew what he was asking. And she knew, with absolute certainty, that Harry wouldn’t just mind; he would be thrilled. The image of his hidden, intense gaze flashed in her mind. But this felt different. This wasn’t a pre-arranged performance with a friend or a familiar creature. This was spontaneous, with a rival, a virtual stranger. It felt like real cheating, and a flicker of genuine uncertainty made her hesitate.
She couldn’t bring herself to say yes, but she couldn’t bring herself to say no, either. Her cheeks burned, and she found herself staring intently at the scuffed toes of her trainers, unable to meet his eyes.
Davies saw her hesitation, her flushed face, and misinterpreted it as shy arousal. A more sinister, knowing smile replaced the gloomy one. Without another word, he pointed a long, elegant finger towards the door of a nearby empty classroom.
Ginny’s breath hitched. This was the moment of decision. She could pull away, make an excuse, and run back to the safety of the common room and Harry’s arms. But the part of her that was built for this, the part that thrilled at the edge of transgression, stirred. She remained frozen, a silent, trembling acquiescence.
That was all the invitation Davies needed. He moved quickly, his hand closing around her wrist. His grip was firm, not painful, but insistent. “Come on,” he murmured, his voice low and confident.
He pulled, and Ginny, her willpower dissolving in a wave of nervous excitement, didn’t object. She followed him, her steps hesitant, into the dark classroom.
__
The door clicked shut, plunging them into the dim, dusty silence of the unused classroom. Before Ginny’s eyes could even adjust, Roger Davies moved. He didn’t speak. He simply pulled her into a tight, almost possessive embrace and crushed his mouth against hers.
It wasn’t a kiss of affection or even of lust. It was an attack. A conquest. His lips were hard, demanding. His tongue, a relentless force, pressed against her closed lips, demanding entry. Ginny’s initial shock held her rigid for a moment, but then a familiar, treacherous heat began to bloom in her stomach. This was different from Harry’s eager kisses, or the rough, familiar ones from the Gryffindor boys. This was raw, dominant, and it stirred something deep within her.
With a soft, surrendering sigh, she parted her lips.
Davies didn’t just enter; he invaded. His tongue explored her mouth with a frantic, hungry energy, tasting her, claiming her. Then, he did something she had never experienced. He deliberately let his saliva flow into her mouth, a warm, slightly salty stream. The act was so intimate, so degrading, and so unexpectedly arousing that she had no choice but to swallow, accepting this strange, primal offering from the handsome captain.
When he finally broke the kiss, both of them were breathing heavily. Without a word, his hands went to the fastenings of her Quidditch robes, then her blouse and skirt. He undressed her with a swift, practiced efficiency that spoke of experience, until she stood completely naked in the cool air, shivering slightly. He took a step back, his own robes still on, and just stared.
His gaze was intense, appraising, and utterly devoid of warmth. A sinister smile played on his lips as his eyes traveled over her body—from her fiery hair tumbling around her shoulders, down to the full, heavy curve of her breasts, her narrow waist, and the clean-shaven, pink triangle between her legs.
Instinctively, Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, covering her nipples, and brought a hand down to shield herself.
Davies chuckled, a low, condescending sound. “Don’t bother,” he said, his voice husky. “Merlin, Weasley. I knew you were fit on a broom, but this…” He shook his head in mock disbelief. “Potter’s a lucky bastard.” His eyes lingered on the spot her hand was covering. “Though, he must not be fucking you nearly enough. Looks like it’s never even been used. Brand new.”
Ginny’s breath caught in her throat. Her face flushed a deep, hot crimson. She remembered Madam Pomfrey’s clinical words with sudden, vivid clarity: “Its tissue will maintain a healthy, pink appearance regardless of the frequency or vigor of intercourse.” How could she explain that? How could she tell this arrogant, victorious boy that her body was a secret even to her, a magical anomaly designed for pleasure? The words stuck in her throat, leaving her standing in silent, embarrassed shame, her secret glowing on her skin for him to see but not to understand.
__
With a firm but not ungentle pressure, he guided her forward, bending her over the dusty surface of a heavy wooden desk. The cold, grainy wood pressed against her stomach and breasts. He raised her hips, positioning her on display with a casual expertise that made her feel like a piece of meat in a shop.
Then, he did the most degrading thing yet. He used his thumbs to spread her ass cheeks apart, exposing her completely. Ginny felt the cool air on her most intimate places and squeezed her eyes shut, the heat in her face so intense she felt she could have fried an egg on her cheek. “Please,” she whispered, her voice muffled against the desk. “Stop staring. Just… get it over with.”
Davies chuckled, his breath warm against her exposed skin. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he purred. “I think you need to ask for it properly. Beg me to fuck you, Weasley. Otherwise, I might just stand here and admire the view all night.”
Tears of frustration and shame pricked at Ginny’s eyes. She was trapped, both physically and by her own traitorous body, which was already throbbing with anticipation. She took a shaky breath. “Please,” she begged, her voice small and shy. “Please… put your cock inside me. Inside my… my cheating pussy.”
“Louder,” Davies commanded, his voice hardening. “And where do you want my cum, you little slut? Do you want me to fill up the deepest part of you? The place that should be only for the great Harry Potter?”
The mention of Harry’s name sent a fresh wave of conflicting emotions through her—guilt, excitement, and a strange, fierce loyalty that only seemed to fuel the transgression. “Yes,” she moaned, the word barely audible. “Yes, put it all deep inside me.”
Satisfied, he didn’t hesitate. With a grunt of effort, he slammed his hard cock into her waiting wetness. Ginny cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound that was swallowed by the dusty room. He set a wild, punishing rhythm from the start, the desk scraping against the stone floor with every thrust.
Her loud, unrestrained moans seemed to fuel his aggression. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, his mouth close to her ear. “You hear that, Potter?” he snarled, though Harry was nowhere near. “You might have caught the Snitch, but I’m fucking your girlfriend’s brains out. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
He drove into her harder, his hips pounding against her raised ass. “Are you enjoying this, you cheating whore? Is my cock better than the famous Harry Potter’s?”
Lost in the sensation, her mind clouded with pleasure and the thrill of the taboo, Ginny could only gasp the truth. “Yes! Yes, it’s bigger… it’s better than Harry’s!”
The triumphant roar he let out was primal. He fucked her with renewed vigor, his cockhead seemingly seeking out a specific, intensely sensitive spot deep inside her. Each thrust sent jolts of pure, electric pleasure through her core. She could feel every contour of him, the shape and size of his cock imprinted on her senses with startling clarity. A delirious, fleeting thought crossed her mind: Will my pussy be re-shaped to fit him? Will I carry the memory of his shape inside me?
Finally, with a long, guttural groan that sounded less like passion and more like the relief of a man emptying his bladder, Roger Davies climaxed. She felt a hot, pulsing jet deep within her, flooding the “special place” he had taunted her about. He stayed inside her for a moment, both of them panting, before he pulled out with a wet sound and stepped back, leaving her feeling used, empty, and utterly, shamefully satisfied.
__
The classroom was filled with the heavy sound of their panting, the air thick with the scent of sex and dust. Ginny remained bent over the desk, feeling the slow, warm trickle of Roger’s release beginning to escape her. Her body was humming, her mind a blissful blank. It was over. The humiliation, the thrilling betrayal, had peaked and subsided.
But for Davies, it seemed, the revenge was not yet complete.
He chuckled, a low, cruel sound that cut through the silence. “Can’t have all my hard work going to waste, now can we?” he said, his tone light, almost joking. “Need something to plug up that cheating little pussy of yours. Keep my cum right where it belongs.”
Ginny, still dazed, didn’t understand at first. She heard him move away, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. Then came a soft scraping sound. Her heart stuttered as she twisted her head to see what he was doing.
To her horror, he was picking up his racing broom, the very one he’d flown on just hours ago. It was sleek and polished, the handle smooth from use. A cold dread washed over her, quickly followed by a surge of panic.
“No… wait…” she pleaded weakly, but it was too late.
With the same brutal efficiency he’d shown before, he positioned the rounded, wooden end of the broomstick against her slick, well-used entrance. “A little souvenir from the Ravenclaw team,” he sneered, and then he shoved it inside her.
Ginny gasped, expecting pain, expecting tearing. But instead, a shocking, immediate wave of pleasure radiated from her core. Madam Pomfrey’s words echoed in her mind: “Its tissue is exceptionally elastic and resilient… designed to accommodate.” The smooth, unyielding wood slid in with an obscene ease, filling her in a way that was completely different from a cock—cooler, harder, more invasive. And her body, her traitorous, magically receptive body, welcomed it. A low, involuntary moan escaped her lips as he began to move the broom handle in and out, a grotesque parody of the act they had just performed.
Davies noticed her moan, her body’s eager acceptance. His face twisted into a mask of disgusted triumph. “Merlin’s beard, you really are a slut,” he laughed, fucking her with the broom. “Look at you. Taking a broomstick like it’s your favorite toy. Potter has no idea, does he? The great hero is dating a whore who’ll spread her legs for anyone. For anything.”
Lost in the bizarre, overwhelming sensation, her mind detached from the shame. The pleasure was too intense, too strange. “I’m sorry, Harry!” she cried out, the apology torn from her not out of genuine remorse, but as a twisted expression of her ecstasy. “I’m so sorry!”
This only made Davies laugh harder, the sound echoing cruelly in the room. “You should be! You disgusting, beautiful little slag.”
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of this profane violation, he seemed satisfied. With a final, rough thrust, he pulled the broomstick out of her with a wet, sucking pop. He leaned close to her ear, his voice a venomous whisper.
“Next time we have a match, Weasley, you remember this. You remember my cock, and you remember my broom, fucking this cheating pussy of yours. Remember who really won today.”
Ginny, her body trembling and her spirit broken and exhilarated, could only manage a weak, shuddering whisper. “Yes.”
With a final, satisfied smirk, Roger Davies straightened his robes and walked out of the classroom, leaving the door ajar. Ginny slowly pushed herself up from the desk, her legs shaking. She stood naked and alone in the dim light, his cum now flowing freely down her inner thighs.
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What if Ginny is the only girl at Hogwarts?