What if Ginny is the only girl at Hogwarts?

CH.7 - The next morning

The pale morning light filtered through the Gryffindor tower windows, casting long shadows across the common room where Ginny sat curled in an armchair, a half-finished cup of tea cooling beside her. Though she smiled and laughed with the trickle of early risers, a nervous energy hummed beneath her skin. She had replayed the previous day’s events on a loop in her mind—the shocking intrusion of the squid, the helplessness, the blinding pleasure, and finally, the secret she now carried, warm and heavy inside her.

When Ron, Harry, Neville, Seamus, and Dean finally descended the stairs, their expressions were a mix of apprehension and exhaustion. They had barely slept, haunted by the vivid imagery of Ginny suspended in the tentacles’ grasp, and wracked with guilt over their own arousal and inaction. They expected her to be withdrawn, maybe even angry—averted eyes, clipped answers, the cold shoulder. Instead, she looked up, a faint, genuine smile touching her lips.

“Morning,” she said, her voice softer than usual but steady.

“Ginny… are you… you know… alright?” Ron asked, his ears turning pink as he awkwardly shuffled his feet.

She shrugged one shoulder, playing with the hem of her robe. “I’m definitely very embarrassed about it,” she admitted, her gaze dropping to her lap for a moment before meeting his again. “But it happened. There’s nothing I could do to change it now, is there?”

The collective sigh of relief from the five boys was almost audible. The tension seeped out of the room, replaced by a fragile normalcy. They joined her, the conversation tentatively moving to homework, Quidditch practice, and the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. But beneath the casual chatter, the memory hung in the air, charged and unspoken.

Later, when Ginny left for the library, the boys huddled near the fire.

“Merlin’s beard,” Seamus breathed, the first to break the silence. “I can’t stop thinking about it.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Neither can I,” Dean admitted, running a hand over his face. “The way she sounded… the way she…”

“And the squid…” Neville added, his voice hushed with a kind of reverent horror. “I’ve never seen anything like that. It was… monstrous.”

“And brilliant,” Harry said, almost to himself. The others looked at him. His face was flushed. “I mean… terrible, obviously. But… also… bloody hell.” He didn’t need to elaborate. They were all fighting the same vivid, intrusive thoughts, their faces heating up as their minds replayed Ginny’s naked form, her desperate moans, the raw display of pleasure she was subjected to—and undeniably felt.

The conversation grew more explicit in hushed, excited tones as they leaned closer, detailing every bounce of her breasts, every cry that was torn from her lips, the sight of her release. It was a shared secret, a forbidden fantasy made real, bonding them together in a way nothing else ever had.

The day passed in a blur of sidelong glances and unspoken understandings. At dinner in the Great Hall, the noise was a distant hum to their secluded group at the end of the Gryffindor table. The weight of the unsaid thing between them grew heavier with each passing moment.

It was Ginny who finally broke the seal on it. Pushing her pumpkin juice away, she looked at her plate and said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I… I can’t stop thinking about the lake.”

The table went silent. All five pairs of eyes locked onto her.

Seamus, ever impulsive, was the first to tease, a grin spreading across his face. “Bit more excitement than a pick-up game of Quidditch, eh, Ginny?”

She blushed a deep, furious scarlet that spread from her cheeks down her neck, but a small, shaky smile played on her lips. “It was… terrifying,” she said, and then, even softer, “but it also felt… incredibly good.”

The admission hung in the air, shocking in its honesty. The boys stared, their forks frozen halfway to their mouths.

Encouraged by their stunned silence and the pounding of her own heart, Ginny continued, her voice dropping to a near-inaudible whisper. She couldn’t look at any of them, especially not Ron or Harry. “I… I went back. Last night. After everyone was asleep. I snuck out to the lake.”

A strangled sound came from Ron. Harry’s jaw had gone slack.

“It was waiting for me,” she murmured, her confession tumbling out now, fueled by a need to share the unbelievable secret. “It was like it knew. And it… we… did it all again.”

The image of Ginny willingly returning to the creature that had violated her so publicly, of seeking out that monstrous pleasure, was almost too much for them to process. The air crackled with a new kind of tension—thick with arousal, shock, and a dawning, possessive curiosity.

It was Harry who found his voice first, a shaky, half-joking attempt to break the intensity and reclaim some sense of control. He leaned forward, his green eyes intent on his sister’s flushed face. “You know, Ginny,” he said, his tone light but with an undeniable edge, “if you want us to keep a secret that massive… especially that you went back for more… it seems like a pretty big favour. Might require… compensation.”

He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. Ginny’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching.

“Maybe,” Harry continued, the joke solidifying into a serious, daring proposition, “you’ll need to let all five of us have a turn, too.”