Warnings: Contains rape and abuse. Rating change to M.
A/N: Oh dear, drunk me can't proof read :/ Sorry everyone, I'm sober now. Hopefully this will be easier on the eye.
So, can anyone guess what's going on with Ginny and Harry? Or what Hermione and Ron are doing to help Harry get better?
"'Mione," moaned Ron, as his wife licked the tip of his ear with a nimble tongue. They needed to be talking about what to do about Harry.
"Yeah?" she murmered, pulling back to look into his blus eyes that were full of love and concern.
"We need to talk about Harry," he said sternly. She sighed, and flopped back onto the sofa.
"What's the use? He doesn't listen to us anymore. He just doesn't care. He's broken. Let's just leave him." Hermione pulled a blanket over her body and buried her head into the soft fabric. She had struggled over the dilema of Harry for years now, and she enjoyed the sense of power she had over the situation. As Minister for Magic, she could destroy Harry with one press interview. She could also build him up and make his life better, at the same time destroying Ginny. She prefered to let them both hang in the balance, with them both wondering who would get the shun of society and who would lie the high life and be worshipped even more.
"He's our best friend," said the ever-naieve Ron. "He's hurting." Hermione could've laughed. Ron had no real idea of what was going on between Harry and his sister at all.
"Ron. We can't force him to be happy. He's Harry Freaking Potter, he can do whatever the fuck he wants." Her husband sighed, and agreed, allowing the power-crazed Hermione to pull him down on top of her.
"My Lord, it is done." A voice echoed through the castle. "Harry Potter is dead."
Flashes of light. A high pitched scream. Bodies falling to the floor. A filthy pair of feet stepping across the bodies like they were a rug. A shrill laugh. A woman crying. Explosions, crashes, bangs, cries of fear... A world torn apart by war.
Harry Potter sat bolt upright in his room, very much alive, and very much terrified. One look at the clock on his table told him it was 11:29. His bitch was cutting it short. A second later, the dial flipped to show 11:30, and there was a ring at the door bell. Drawing his composure, the Boy Who Lived swept down the stairs of number tweleve to open the front door.
"Hello," said Ginny curtly, dressed as a centuar with no top or bra on. She pushed passed the stonily silent Harry and into the living room, before sitting on the floor like every other time. Harry followed her into the room, his mind still on the dream. He couldn't get the high pitched scream out his head, because he knew it was Ginny's. It was Ginny's scream. And he did love her. She just couldn't love.
"Well?" she snapped, and Harry was startled out of his thoughts by the redhead sitting half naked on his floor.
"Hello Ginevra. Are you well?" he asked politely, as always. A charade he presented well, the ever polite Potter. He just wanted to ravish her beauty. She responded with a nod, and moved so that she could undo Harry's trousers with her calloused hands.
As Harry watched her head move mechanically forwards and backwards, he compared it to the first time she had done this. It had been a little messy, slightly rushed and altogether too much teeth for his liking. But now he had her trained perfectly. He moaned, head full of ideas of what to do with her. He shoved her back on the floor, and she lay there motionlessly while he pulled his jeans off.
Within seconds, he was inside her, pumping hard, so hard he was slamming into her. Her head was hitting the floor repeatedly with every thrust, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes. He had his head thrown back in ecstacy, as he flipped them over so she was on top, forcing her to ride his hard, swollen cock. She fought against the pleasure that, despite her situation, threatened to rise up. At Harry's glare, however, she was made to react appropriately to his actions. She moaned, and Harry grinned slightly.
"I want you to come today, you little slut. I like my women enjoying me." He closed his eyes as she sped up the rhythm and let out a moan. The noice was so animal, Ginny grew even more afraid of him. She wanted to get this over with, so she attacked his neck with her mouth, using the rest of her energy to imagine that she were fucking someone, anyone, else, until she came.
Harry flipped her back onto the bottom and continued to pump in and out of her until she came once more, followed by her fiance. She felt his seed spill into her, and felt sick. He continued to lie on top and inside of her. She felt him shaking slightly as the last aftershock of his orgasm finished. He still didn't move.
"Good job, slut," Harry said. "I almost believed you were enjoying that. Now, go." He stood up, and Ginny picked up her clothes before apparating away to her house. He looked at the clock. The time was ten past twelve. Harry sighed, and went upstairs to bed. He fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow and he dreamt of Ginny Weasley.
Ginny collapsed onto her bed the second she got in, sobbing desperately. The one time she allowed herself to show any emotion was when she was returning from Harry's house. She rocked herself back and forward, wrapping herself in her Weird Sisters duvet. Tears streamed down her face and sobs wracked her body. She didn't sleep for fear of nightmares featuring Harry Potter.
A/N: Well, that escalated quickly... Hopefully that gave people a taste of what life as Harry Potter's sex toy is like for Ginny. And don't worry, you will get more Luna in the next chapter! Read and review please.