Chapter Text
Ginny knew she had to stay quiet—cautious. She couldn’t get caught by one of the Carrows or those bloody Inquisitorial Squad members, like Parkinson or Nott, that would be bad enough.
But there was always worse.
She slipped through the dim corridors, her steps muffled on the cold stone. The plan was simple: get into Snape’s office, locate the sword, and report back to Neville or Luna. Stealing it out of the headmaster’s grasp would come later. Snape might have moved into Dumbledore’s old office, but he still kept his most valuable possessions in the dungeon.
These days the dungeons were the most menacing place in the castle—cold, damp, and slithering with snakes. Ginny tried to shake the knot that tied in her stomach as she approached the heavy wooden door.
With a whispered “Alohomora,” the lock clicked open, and she slipped inside. Raising her wand, she muttered, “Lumos,” bathing the room in soft light.
Before she could take another step, the door slammed shut with a loud snap.
She spun around, her breath hitching, and froze.
The "worst" option was standing in front of her.
A spell hit her before she could react, slamming her backward into the bureau.
“Well, well, look what I’ve stumbled upon,” a maliced drawl teased, the voice wrapping around Ginny’s mind before the moonlight finally illuminated his face.
Malfoy.
Ginny’s heart pounded as she spun back, her fingers curling around her wand. With a quick flick, she aimed a Bat-Bogey Hex straight at his nose.
But Draco was faster. His hand shot out, batting the spell aside as if it were nothing, and with a smooth “Expelliarmus,” her wand was yanked from her palms, and was now spinning between his fingers.
“Going to have to do better than that, Weasley,” he sneered, sharp enough to cut.
Ginny didn’t hesitate. If magic wasn’t an option, she’d get physical. With a burst of adrenaline, she lunged at him, grabbing a heavy cauldron from the desk and flipping it toward him.
Like a bloody cat, he dodged, his hands darting out to seize her waist. Ginny fought, her fists swinging and landing wherever she could—his chest, his arms, anywhere that might make him let go.
It didn’t work.
With an infuriating laugh, Draco shifted his weight, and suddenly Ginny found herself slammed onto the hard, unforgiving floor. Pain shot through her already bruised back, but she didn’t stop fighting. Her legs kicked, and she cursed him viciously, but his grip was ironclad.
“Stop squirming, Weasley,” he snapped, his hands capturing her wrists and pinning them above her head. He loomed over her now, his weight pressing her down completely, his pale face mere inches from hers.
“Just take me to the Carrows already, Malfoy, and get this over with,” Ginny spat.
Draco’s smirk deepened as he shifted, his body pressing harder between her legs. It was then that she paused, air suctioning out of her lungs in horror as she realized what she was feeling—big and unmistakable.
“Why would I do that,” he drawled maddeningly calm, “when we’re having so much fun?” He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her ear as she thrashed beneath him, trying to force him off.
“Keep wiggling like that, Red” he murmured, his cadence laced with amusement, “and you’re only going to make me harder.”
He shifted deliberately, the friction between his movements felt electric even through layers of fabric. Ginny’s body tensed, a traitorous shiver running through her as she tried to stifle the reaction. She felt heat creep up her neck, but she bit down hard on her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
“You’re foul,” she rasped through gritted teeth.
“What do you and your idiot friends want with that bloody sword anyway? Huh?” Draco pushed “You tell me, and maybe I let you go.”
Ginny glared up at him, fury and defiance burning in her throat. “I’d rather fuck that pitiful thing between your legs than tell you,”
The insult landed, and she could see the flicker of danger in Draco’s eyes. Maybe it was her anger, or maybe she just wanted to hurt him however she could, even if she wasn’t entirely truthful about the “pitiful” part.
Draco’s smirk returned, slower this time, darker. “Pitiful?” he repeated in a husky deride. Then he moved, his hips pressing down in deliberate retaliation, dragging his length against her.
Ginny’s body betrayed her with a traitorous flinch at the friction. She tried to suppress the numbing feeling, tried to cling to her rage, but her cunt didn’t care who it was—Malfoy or not. Heat bloomed in places that had never felt this kind of goading before.
“Doesn’t feel pitiful to me,” he taunted, meeting her roll with another of his own.
Ginny let out a small, involuntary sound before biting it back and Draco met it with a hiss.
“Don’t touch me, Malfoy,” she growled.
“Then stop moving,” he shot back, his tone as infuriatingly arrogant as ever. “But perhaps…you don’t want me to stop. Precious Potter is off playing hero with your brother and Granger, leaving you all alone. Tell me, does it keep you up at night, wondering if he’s sneaking into her bed? Spreading her legs and seeing how wet she is for him?” He added in a mocking whisper.
Ginny saw red. “Fuck you,” she snarled.
Draco’s grip shifted, pinning her wrists with one hand while the other slipped between their bodies. She weakened as his fingers began to unbutton her jeans.
“Don’t,” she bit, but her voice lacked venom.
“Don’t?” he echoed, his fingers grazing the waistband of her knickers, the touch maddeningly light. “Your body’s telling me something different.”
Ginny’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her breaths shaky as she tried to steady herself. Draco’s stare dug into her, his eyes black and unrelenting. She tensed as his fingers trailed lower, brushing over the fabric that barely covered her throbbing clit. The relief was immediate, unbidden, and her head fell back against the wooden floor with a dull thud.
“I wonder,” Draco murmured, almost conversational, “if what’s between these thighs is worth it. You know you drive half the blokes in this castle mental, don’t you? Zabini? Nott? Even that moron Longbottom is pining for you. And yet, here you are—” He leaned closer, hot against her ear as his hands worked her with practiced precision. “—trapped beneath me, with my fingers in your cunt.”
The words hit her like a blow, and before she could fire back a retort, his hand pushed aside her knickers. The first push of his fingers against her slick heat made her gasp, a backstabbing moan slipping past her lips before she could choke on it.
Ginny hated herself—hated how good this felt. No matter how much she loathed the person above her, Draco’s touch sent a bolt of pleasure racing through her, igniting her in a way nobody else ever had.
“Tight little thing, aren’t you?” Draco drawled, his fingers sliding into her slowly. “Tell me—have you ever had a cock before?”
Ginny’s brain fizzled out, her head rolling to the side as he nipped at her jawline. Her mouth hung open, breaths escaping in uneven bursts.
“That’s… none of your business,” she managed to grind out between gasps, her voice trembling as he worked another finger inside her.
Her face burned with shame and fury, because no—she hadn’t. Stupidly, naively, she’d been waiting for Harry. At the end of all this chaos and destruction, she’d imagined giving that part of herself to him. But here she was, under Malfoy, her resolve crumbling with every ounce of her hatred.
“Oh, gods,” Draco laughed. “You’re waiting for Potter, aren’t you?”
The words dripped with ridicule, and Ginny’s resentment flared hotter than ever—until another finger slid inside her, stretching her. The burn and the pressure sent a shockwave to her belly, scattering her defiance into fragmented mewls.
“It’s none of your fucking business.”
She pushed at him again, wriggling in a futile attempt to gain leverage, but the movement only caused his fingers to shift, curling up and pressing against the sensitive spot tucked at her front walls. Ginny’s back arched to recreate the motion.
“Fuck, Malfoy—”
The phrase escaped, and she bit down on her lip, cursing herself for the weakness.
Draco groaned low in his throat. “There it is,” he encouraged, his smirk audible even as he picked up the pace.
She flinched as she felt the tap of his wand against her calves. Before she could object, the chill of the dungeon air prickled her skin—her jeans had vanished.
“Much better,” Draco added. He leaned in, dragging his tongue along the curve of her neck to her earlobe. Another finger slipped inside her, stretching her further, working her in an excruciatingly effective rhythm. It was better—better than Harry, better than Dean, maybe even better than anything she’d ever done herself.
Her legs were spread wide now, her knickers shoved to the side and the lace itching into her skin. Malfoy’s hand kept her pinned, her wrists locked above her head as he moved with single-minded intent, his fingers thrusting in and out, coaxing sounds from her chest she hadn’t meant to make.
She loathed herself. Loathed that she was unraveling for Draco fucking Malfoy. Every protest caught in her teeth as the telltale warmth began to coil low in her pelvis, just as his fingers slipped from her, leaving her empty.
Ginny’s head shot up in panic. Was he stopping? Leaving her like this? Edging her on purpose to walk away?
But no.
Draco’s free hand moved to his belt, fumbling with the buckle, and then the zipper. Her eyes widened as he freed himself, the pale length of his cock springing free, already flushed and leaking. The sight of it against his black trousers made her mouth go dry.
“Do you want me to pop your sweet little cherry, Red?” he pushed. His blond hair fell into his eyes as he looked down at her, his lips curling into that classic Malfoy sneer.
Ginny stared, swallowing hard. When had Malfoy become… this? Her body clearly knew before her mind had caught up, but she’d always thought of him as a snarky git, a taunting, insufferable prat.
And yet now, the density of him above her, the ridges of his body, the sheer size of him—it was intimidating.
Draco aligned himself with her, the head of his cock nudging against her slit. Ginny tensed, already feeling the stretch as he pressed forward, just enough to part her.
“This is going to hurt,” his tone half warning, half challenge. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to take me, but something tells me you’ll treat that as a dare.”
“Shut up and do it already,” Ginny snapped, her voice wavering between frustration and desperation. Was she this easy to read? And god-damn her needy cunt for how it pulsed with anticipation even as her mind screamed against it.
The first push stole her breath. He breached her gently, the thick head of his cock stretching her open in ways that bordered on unbearable. It was a sharp burning ache that had her biting her lip to keep from crying out.
Draco groaned a deep, guttural sound that sent a spike down her spine. Ginny’s mind spun at the realization—that sound was because of her. Her body, her wetness, her tightness—it was all undoing him.
“Fucking hell,” Draco rasped, his hands gripping her hips as if to anchor himself. “You’re so fucking tight… I’m barely in. Can you take more, Red?”
Ginny whimpered, her nails biting into her palms as she nodded, not able to form words.
The next inch was agony and bliss all at once. She felt every nerve flame up as he opened her further, filling her inch by inch. Tears pricked her eyes at the sting; she was sure something had torn. Draco pulled back slightly, pausing, and they both looked down.
A streak of crimson marred his cock. She panicked, instinctively trying to pull away, but his grasp was firm.
“I’m not scared of a little blood,” he grunted. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while.”
He released her wrists, her arms tingling as circulation returned. But before she could process the relief, he pressed back into her, deeper this time. Ginny cried out, her hands flying to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as a scream tore from her throat.
“Malfoy”
“That’s it,” Draco whispered, almost soothing as he leaned over her. “Hold onto me,”
His hand slipped between them, his fingers finding her clit with unerring drive. The tiny, expanding circles he traced sent punch after punch of pleasure that cut through the ache.
Ginny moaned, her legs shaking as she clenched around him. “Fuck, Malfoy… yes… that—that feels good.”
Draco licked his lips. “I told you I’d make it worth your while.”
“Ginny? Ginny, are you in here?”
The voice jolted her. Neville. His footsteps echoed closer, the door creaking open as Draco stilled above her. She gasped, but Draco only grinned wider, his expression wicked as he resumed thrusting. He buried his face in her neck to stifle the groans that now vibrated against her skin.
They were hidden behind a row of desks, just out of sight. She knew Neville wouldn’t see them unless he came further into the classroom, but her heart rattled in her chest. Logical reasoning screamed at her to push Draco off, to stop this madness, but her legs latched instinctively around his waist, pulling him flush against her.
“Moan for me, Red,” Draco whispered. “Say my name. Let Longbottom find out how well you’re taking this Death Eater’s cock.”
Ginny bit down hard, her teeth digging into the soft flesh to keep any sound from escaping. She was close to giving in, her body wanted to obey him.
“Neville, we need to go.” Luna’s melody drifted into the room, and Ginny’s heart thudded in relief as the footsteps retreated. The door clicked shut, leaving them alone once more.
"Fuck," Draco growled, his hips driving forward harder now, his restraint fraying. "I can't believe I'm the first to feel you. Gods, you feel incredible... Are you going to cum for me?"
Her senses were on fire. Each thrust sent her further into the darkness, the tension in her core straining tighter and tighter. It was defeating, the way his words lit her up, the way her cunt clamped down around him, drawing him deeper, chasing the relief she craved.
"You’re taking me so well," Draco panted, his mouth crashing against hers. His tongue slid past her lips with a hunger that left her mind spinning. Ginny opened for him, her hands tangling in his hair as she kissed him back, biting at his cupid’s bow before pulling away with a gasp.
“Am I?” she taunted. “Am I doing well?” she clenched around him for emphasis, the grating making her shudder. “Fuck, I hate that you feel good. I hate you, Malfoy.”
Draco’s grunt was animalistic, his hands fastening at her ribs. “Salazar, I hate you too, Weasley,” he snapped, his thrust becoming rougher. “I fucking hate you. You filthy slut, giving up your virginity so easily for me—cumming for me, milking my cock.”
The tension snapped, and a wave of orgasmic rapture crashed over her. Ginny screamed, her nails dragging down his back as she arched and constricted around where his cock was buried, her core spasming with every thrust.
Draco’s rhythm stuttered; his breathing ragged. “Fucking take it. I’m going to fill you with my cum,”
She stiffened, terror thrumming her chest. She wasn’t on the potion—hadn’t thought she’d need to be—but even as her mind screamed at her to stop him, it was too late.
“Fuck—fucking hell…” Draco shuddered above her, his hips snapping forward one final time as she felt the hot rush of him spill inside her. He let out a velvety moan, dropping his head to hover over hers. The sensation was overwhelming—warm, invasive, a dull ache that was too much.
Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, nausea twisting in her stomach as clarity crept back into her foggy mind.
He pulled out, and she felt a rush of wetness slide down her thighs. Glancing down, she saw the sticky white of his cum mingled with streaks of crimson, staining her skin and dripping from his still-hard cock.
“I’m not nearly as upset about Snape forcing me on patrol tonight now,” Draco huffed. His eyes roamed over her body, lingering on her spread legs. “Fuck… why does the sight of your blood make me hard all over again?”
“Because you’re a sick bastard,” Ginny grumbled, her voice hoarse as she tried to muster the poison she knew he deserved.
Draco smirked, unfazed by her words, as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her flushed face. His hand trailed lower, running purposefully through the mess on her thighs, smearing it further.
“I’m going to give you the sword, Ginevra,” he said suddenly, his tone shifting in a way that made her heart lurch.
“What? Why?”
Draco stood, adjusting his trousers and tucking himself back into his briefs, her blood and his cum still staining his skin. He looked down at her, sprawled and disheveled, her sweater bunched around her stomach and her jeans discarded. His grin was sharp, predatory.
“You gave me something invaluable,” he said, cold and calculated. “So I’ll give you something invaluable in return.”
She blinked, still trying to make sense of his change in demeanor. "I... I don't understand. What's the catch?"
Draco chuckled richly, leaning down to cup her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. “When I kill Potter,” he clicked, smirk widening, “I’ll make sure this image—of you, bloody, legs spread, and dripping with my cum—flashes in his mind right before he dies.”