Harry Potter One-Shots/Series - 3

Disclaimer: I do not have any rights of ownership for the characters used except the OC's. All the credit goes to the authors. Only the plot belongs to me. All characters are aged up and are adults.

Harry Potter One-Shots/Series

Story – A Different Dragon (Draco/Harem)

Part 1 – Ginny Weasley

~ Draco Malfoy ~

The cold, damp air of the dungeons usually felt like a shroud of comfort to Draco Malfoy, but lately, it felt like a tomb. His father, Lucius, was a broken man, a shadow lurking in the corners of Malfoy Manor while the Dark Lord turned their ancestral home into a barracks for his most depraved followers. The Malfoy name, once a golden standard of pureblood wizarding society, was being dragged through the mud of failure.

Draco stood in the Room of Requirement, his breath hitching in the silence. He needed an edge. He needed a way to ensure that when the dust of this war settled, the Malfoys weren't just survivors, but masters of the new world. He didn't care about blood purity anymore; he cared about power.

As he paced, the room shifted. The piles of hidden treasures and forgotten junk ebbed away, revealing a simple stone plinth. Resting upon it was a ring—a heavy band of blackened silver set with a deep, pulsing emerald. It hummed with a resonance that made the marrow in Draco’s bones ache.

He picked it up, and the moment the cold metal slid onto his finger, the world exploded.

The foresight hit him like a physical blow. He saw the battle. He saw the fire in the Room of Requirement, the fall of the Dark Lord, and Harry Potter standing victorious over a corpse. He saw his family in chains, their wealth seized, their dignity stripped.

The ring granted him the gift of seeing the future. He could see one hour into the future at will, an endless tactical advantage. And once every six months, he could pierce the veil of time to see a full year ahead.

"Potter will win," Draco whispered to the empty room, a dark smirk tugging at his lips. "But I will run the world he saves."

The plan began with surgical precision. Draco used his foresight to be in the right place at exactly the right time.

He saved Daphne Greengrass from a group of Carrows' sycophants who intended to 'teach her a lesson' in the dungeons. He didn't just stop them; he dismantled them with a cold, terrifying efficiency that left Daphne trembling, her eyes wide as she realized the 'spoiled prince' was now a wizard of a different calibre, her mind made up to return the favour one day as she quietly joined his new faction.

He found Luna Lovegood being cornered by Ravenclaws who had finally crossed the line from bullying to physical torment. He intervened not with a sneer, but with a protective, dominant aura that left the girl staring at him with a dazed, dreamy expression, sensing the shift in his magic.

Then came the Hufflepuffs. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were trapped in a darkened corridor by senior Slytherins who intended to use them as ‘spoils of war’, emboldened by the new management Hogwarts had found itself under. Draco had seen the assault in his vision. He arrived minutes before it could turn truly dark. He didn't just save them; he made them feel the weight of his protection. He held Hannah and Susan’s trembling form, his hand lingering on their hip, whispering that with his aid, no one would ever touch them again.

By the time the winter chill settled over Hogwarts—now reimagined as a finishing academy for adult wizards and witches—Draco had pieces on the board in every house. But Gryffindor remained. He needed the lioness. He needed Ginny Weasley.


~ Ginny Weasley ~

The steam in the Quidditch showers was thick enough to swallow the world. Ginny stood under the spray, the hot water beating against her sore muscles. The season was gruelling, especially with the Carrows acting as 'inspectors,' but the pitch was the only place she felt free.

She turned the tap off, reaching for her towel. She wrapped it around her athletic, curvaceous frame, the white fabric clinging to the swell of her heavy breasts and the firm curve of her ass. She was just beginning to dry her hair when the door to the locker room creaked open.

It wasn't the girls from the team.

Three Slytherin seventh-years—Vaisey, Avery, and a hulking brute Ginny didn't recognize—stepped into the steam. Their eyes were dark, roaming over her exposed skin with a hunger that made her stomach churn.

"Well, well," Vaisey sneered, his gaze fixed on the way her nipples peaked against the damp towel. "The little Weasley bitch is all alone."

"I heard Gryffindors like it rough," Avery added, stepping closer. "And we’ve got all afternoon to see how loud you can scream."

Ginny reached for her wand, but it was sitting on the bench ten feet away. She backed into the shower stall, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Get out. Now."

The brute laughed, reaching out to grab the edge of her towel. "I think I’ll take a souvenir first. I want to see those tits everyone talks about."

Just as his hand closed on the fabric, a cold, melodic voice sliced through the humid air.

"I believe the lady told you to leave."

Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway. He looked different than he had at the start of the term, and she had not seen him participate in a single game of quidditch yet. He was broader, taller, more muscular, and he carried himself with a terrifying, calm authority.

"Malfoy?" Vaisey barked a laugh. "Come to join in? There's enough of her to go around. Look at that fat ass."

Draco didn't smile. He didn't even look at them. His eyes were fixed on Ginny, tracing the line of her throat. In a flash of movement, faster than any of them could react, he had his wand out.

Two muttered curses later, Vaisey and Avery were crumpled on the floor, their bodies locked in an agonizing paralytic state. The third boy tried to run, but Draco simply stepped into his path and slammed a fist into his throat, dropping him like a sack of stones, hitting all three of them with stunners.

Draco stepped over the bodies, walking toward Ginny. She clutched the towel to her chest, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps.

"Are you alright, Ginvera?" he asked. His voice was like velvet over steel.

"I... I had it handled," she lied, her voice shaking. Since childhood, the witches of the wizarding world had grown up on the stories of wizards who would save them; something that was amplified by the Harry Potter stories. Now, Ginny was experiencing it at the hands of someone else.

"No, you didn't," he said, stopping just inches from her. He was so close she could smell him, the usual expensive fragrance, old parchment, and a hint of something dark and musky. "They would have used you. They would have turned you into their little plaything."

"Why did you help me?" she whispered, looking up at him.

Draco reached out. He didn't touch her face; instead, his hand drifted down, his fingers brushing against the damp skin of her shoulder. "Because I don't like it when people touch what should belong to you."

Ginny’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening in shock. "I don't belong to you, Malfoy."

"Not yet," he murmured. He leaned in, his lips hovering just an inch from her ear. "But look at you. So vibrant. So full of fire. Do you really think a boy like Potter—a boy who's probably halfway to a grave—knows what to do with a woman like you?"

His hand moved, sliding down the towel to the curve of her hip. He squeezed, his thumb digging into the soft flesh of her ass. Ginny let out a sharp, involuntary gasp, her legs feeling suddenly weak.

"You deserve a man, Ginny," Draco whispered, his voice dropping to a growl. "A man who knows how to lead, who can provide for you. Someone who can keep you safe while he fucks the life out of you. Someone with the power to give you everything you crave and deserve."

His other hand came up, his palm cupping her breast through the towel. Without missing a beat, he squeezed the heavy mound. The sensation sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated lust straight to Ginny’s core. Her pussy throbbed, a sudden slickness coating her thighs, her gasp echoing throughout the room. 

"You're a beautiful little slut, aren't you?" Draco provoked, his eyes burning into hers. "Beneath that Gryffindor pride, you’re just a girl who wants to be claimed."

He leaned in, his nose brushing against hers. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, and to her horror, she realized she wanted him to. She wanted his tongue in her mouth; she wanted his hands everywhere.

But then, he pulled back. He let go of her, his hands dropping to his sides.

"I only did what was right," he said, his voice suddenly formal, though his eyes remained predatory. "I'll leave you to get dressed, Ginny. I'd hate for you to catch a cold."

He turned and walked out, leaving her standing in the steam, her body trembling and her mind a chaotic mess of confusion and overwhelming arousal.

~Ginny Weasley ~

The weeks that followed were a slow torture.

Everywhere Ginny went, he was there. In the Great Hall, she would look up from her plate to find Draco staring at her from the Slytherin table. He wouldn't smile; he would just watch her eat, his gaze lingering on her mouth as if he were imagining it wrapped around him.

In the corridors, they would pass, and his hand would invariably 'accidentally' brush against hers, or he would lean in close as he walked by, whispering something filthy.

"I can smell how wet you are, Weasley," he whispered one afternoon outside the library.

"Your tits look especially heavy in that sweater today. I want to see them bounce while I pound you from behind," he murmured during a Herbology transition as he left the greenhouse.

Ginny tried to hate it. She told herself she was loyal to Harry, even though they had broken up. But Harry was a ghost, a distant memory of a boy she used to know. Draco was a physical reality. And to be very honest, Ginny had always hated how passive he was. Still, to cozy up with his arch-nemesis? 

She could not. She would not.

At least that's what she thought. Then came the dreams.

In her sleep, she was no longer at Hogwarts. She was in a lavish bedroom, her wrists bound in silk, her body arching as Draco Malfoy used her like his personal whore. In her dreams, he was relentless. He would call her his 'little Gryffindor whore,' his 'favourite plaything,' while he buried his thick, throbbing cock deep inside her. She would wake up soaked, her fingers finding their way to her cunt the first thing in the morning, crying out his name.


~ Draco Malfoy ~

The ring vibrated on his finger. The power of the ring allowed him to glimpse into the day he had ahead of him. He saw her coming.

He stood in an abandoned classroom on the fourth floor, the windows boarded up, the dust motes dancing in the dim light. He had prepared the space. A heavy oak desk had been cleared, and a soft, velvet cloak was spread across it.

He heard the footsteps in the hall—hurried, desperate.

The door burst open. Ginny Weasley stood there, her hair dishevelled, her cheeks flushed. She looked like she had been running.

"Stop it," she gasped, slamming the door behind her. "Stop doing this to me, Malfoy!"

Draco leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked every bit the dominant aristocrat. "Stop what, Ginny? I haven't done anything but exist."

"You're in my head!" she screamed, stepping toward him. "You're in my dreams! I can't sleep, I can't think... I can't even touch myself without seeing your fucking face!"

Draco let out a low, dark chuckle. "Is that so? It seems my little lioness has finally realized where she belongs."

He moved then, crossing the distance between them in three long strides. He grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up, sitting her roughly on the edge of the desk.

"No, Draco—" she started, but it was half-hearted.

"Yes, Ginny," he growled. He gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You've been starving for this. You've been aching for a real man to take charge of that tight little body."

He didn't waste time with gentleness. He reached down and yanked her skirt up, revealing her simple cotton knickers. They were already stained, a dark patch of dampness showing exactly how much she wanted him.

"Look at this," Draco sneered, his voice thick with lust. "You're dripping for me. Like a good little slut."

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her knickers and tore them. The sound of the fabric ripping seemed to shatter the last of Ginny's resistance. She let out a sob of relief as he shoved her legs apart, stepping between them.

"Tell me you want it," Draco commanded, his hand moving to his trousers, freeing his cock. It was massive, thick, veined and throbbing with a life of its own. "Tell me you want me to fuck that Gryffindor pride out of you."

Ginny looked down at his dick, her eyes widening. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she brushed against the velvet-soft head. "Please," she whimpered. "Please, Draco. Fuck me. Make me yours."

Draco didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed her thighs, pulling her to the very edge of the desk. He positioned himself at her entrance, the heat from her pussy radiating against his tip.

"You're going to be Draco Malfoy's woman, Ginny," he whispered, his voice dark and possessive. "And my women need to be well-fucked."

He lunged forward, burying his entire length inside her in one brutal thrust.

Ginny’s head snapped back, a scream of pure ecstasy tearing from her throat. She was so tight, her walls clenching around him like a glove. Draco felt his own control fraying. He began to move, his hips slamming into hers with a rhythmic, punishing force.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound of their flesh meeting filled the dusty room. Draco reached up, grabbing her tits, kneading the heavy flesh as he fucked her. "You like this, don't you? You like being used by a Malfoy."

"Yes! Oh god, yes!" Ginny cried out with her arms around his neck, her legs locking loosely around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Harder, Draco! Fuck me harder!"

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more feral. He was a stud in his prime, and she was the perfect vessel for his ambition and his lust. He flipped her over, forcing her onto her stomach, her tits flat against the desk.

From this angle, her ass was a masterpiece—round, pale, and trembling, a testament to her years of Quidditch training. He didn't hesitate. He spat into his hand, lubing his member up, and then drove his cock back into her pussy, his other hand reaching back to slap her rump.

"That's it, arch for me, you beautiful whore," he growled. "Show me how much you love your new Lord."

Ginny was lost. The world outside didn't exist. There was no war, no Harry, no family. There was only the sensation of Draco Malfoy’s thick cock filling her, the sting of his palms on her skin, and the overwhelming power he radiated.

As she reached her climax, her internal muscles clamped down on him so hard he groaned in agony and delight. He felt the familiar heat of his own release building.

"I'm going to fill you, Ginny," he gasped, his pace reaching a frantic crescendo. "I'm going to put my seed so deep inside you that you'll never be able to forget who owns you."

With a final, soul-shattering thrust, he came. He roared as he pumped his hot, thick cum into her, load after load of white heat hitting her cervix. Ginny collapsed onto the desk, her body twitching in the aftermath of a massive orgasm.

Draco stayed buried inside her for a long moment, breathing hard, his forehead resting against the small of her back. The ring on his finger glowed with a faint, satisfied light.

He had the lioness.

He pulled out with a wet shuck sound, watching as his cream began to leak from her overworked pussy, dripping onto the velvet cloak. He reached down, trailing a finger through the mess and bringing it to his lips.

"The future looks very bright, Ginny," he said, his voice returning to its calm, aristocratic clip.

He stood up, adjusting his clothes with practiced ease. Ginny remained on the desk, dazed and beautiful, her body marked by his touch.

"Stay here and clean yourself up," Draco commanded, heading for the door. "I have a house to manage. But don't worry... I'll be back for you soon enough, my beautiful girl."

As the door clicked shut, Draco Malfoy stepped into the corridor. He looked into the ring, seeing the next hour.  He now understood what he had to do. He saw a world where he was the puppet master, where the women of every house were his to use and command, and where the Malfoy name was more than just a memory.

It was an empire.

Author’s Notes

Good? Great? Room for improvement? Let me know below. Also, comment what other pairings and situations you might want to see.