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. |
CH.9 - New target
The silence in the dormitory was a fragile thing, thick with the unspoken weight of their shared night. It was Ginny, again, who dared to pierce it. She shifted, the sheets rustling as she pulled them higher over her breasts, a gesture that was more reflexive modesty than any real attempt to cover herself from their now-intimate gazes.
“My whole body aches,” she murmured, not quite looking at any of them. A faint, self-conscious smile touched her lips. “In a good way, I mean.”
A collective, nervous energy passed through the boys. Seamus, ever the first to break a tension, grinned. “I’ll bet it does. We weren’t exactly gentle, were we?”
“No,” Ginny said, and this time she did look up, her brown eyes meeting his. There was a spark of her usual fire in them, tempered by a new, unveiled honesty. “But it was… good. Really good.”
The admission, so simple and direct, sent a fresh wave of heat through the room. Ron’s ears flushed scarlet, and he stared determinedly at a loose thread on the blanket. Neville looked both proud and profoundly shocked.
It was Dean who pushed it further, his voice soft. “Better than… you know… before? With us?”
Ginny’s gaze dropped back to the sheets. She picked at a nonexistent piece of lint, her shyness returning in a swift, captivating wave. “It was… different,” she said carefully. Then, in a voice so small it was almost a whisper, she added, “You were all wonderful. But… it wasn’t… better than the squid.”
The air left the room. Wonderful was one thing. But not better than the squid? The monstrous, alien creature that had publicly violated her? The statement was so shocking, so utterly counter to everything they understood, that for a moment, no one could speak. They had just shared an earth-shattering, bonding night of sex, and she was calmly stating that being fucked by a giant cephalopod was superior.
“Better?” Ron finally spluttered, his voice cracking. “Ginny, it had a tentacle in your—”
“I know what it had where, Ronald,” she interrupted, her own cheeks flaming, but a stubborn set to her jaw. “I was there. It’s just… it’s hard to explain. The strength of it… the way it could touch me everywhere at once… the sheer… size of it. It was overwhelming. In a way a person… or five people… can’t be.”
The boys exchanged looks of utter bewilderment mixed with a strange, sharp jealousy. They had given her their all, and they had been measured against a monster and found wanting.
Harry, trying to process this and lighten the bizarre, competitive mood that had settled over them, let out a shaky laugh. It was a poor attempt at a joke, a deflection born of his own confusion and a morbid curiosity to see just how far this went. He looked at Ginny, a wry, teasing smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Well, if it’s size and overwhelming you’re after,” he said, the words feeling strange and heavy in his mouth, “maybe we should nick a Growth Potion from Slughorn. Or,” he added, the joke taking a darker, more absurd turn, “we could always see if Hagrid’s dog, Fang, is interested. He’s certainly big enough to do the job.”
He expected her to throw a pillow at him. He expected her to hex his eyebrows off. He expected an outraged shriek of “Harry Potter!”
He did not expect what happened next.
Ginny didn’t look offended. She didn’t even look shocked. She simply went very still, her eyes widening just a fraction. The deep blush on her cheeks remained, but it seemed now to be a blush of intense contemplation rather than embarrassment. She bit her lower lip, a nervous habit he knew well.
The dormitory was utterly silent, all traces of teasing gone. The five boys stared at her, waiting for the inevitable backlash.
It didn’t come.
Instead, Ginny’s gaze dropped to her hands twisting in the sheet. Her voice, when it came, was so quiet they had to lean in to hear it, a mere breath of sound laden with terrifying admission.
“I… I wouldn’t mind,” she whispered.
The words hung in the air, sucking all the oxygen from the room. I wouldn’t mind. Not ‘that’s not funny,’ not ‘how could you say that?’ I wouldn’t mind.
The implications were staggering, painting a picture of a desire so far beyond their comprehension that it left them cold and hot all at once. The playful fantasy of the previous night curdled into something darker, more serious, and infinitely more arousing. They had ventured into a joke about bestiality, and she had not just accepted it—she had welcomed it.
Ron looked pale. Neville looked like he might be sick. Seamus and Dean were frozen, their earlier grins completely wiped away, replaced by a stunned, hungry stillness. Harry just stared at his crush, his heart hammering against his ribs. His crude joke had not been a joke to her. It had been a proposition. And she had agreed.
The comfortable, sated atmosphere of the morning was gone, replaced by a thrilling, dangerous new tension. They had thought they had uncovered all her secrets, plumbed the depths of her newfound desires. They realized now, with a jolt, they had only scratched the surface.
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