Harry:
The familiar sight of our little home came into view as I turned the corner, and a warm rush of happiness flooded through me. I hadn't planned on being back for another two days, but finishing early felt like a gift—one I was eager to share with Ginny. I could already imagine her reaction, that bright, beautiful smile when she realized I was home. The sun was just beginning to dip behind the trees, casting a golden glow over the house, and everything felt right. I was home.
I walked through the front door of my home, the soft, familiar creak of the old oak beneath my feet greeting me. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt warm and welcoming after a long day. It was a peace I'd grown accustomed to in the years since the war. The stillness wasn't eerie or lonely; it was the kind of stillness that reminded me I was safe.
"I'm home!" I called out, my voice echoing slightly through the hallway. I paused, listening for a response. Nothing. No hurried footsteps or cheerful reply. A small frown tugged at my lips, but it vanished as quickly as it came. Ginny was likely upstairs, perhaps lost in a book or finishing up some post-practice routines. I smiled to myself at the thought of her, the fiery red hair and the determined glint in her eyes that hadn't dulled one bit since our Hogwarts days.
I took off my coat, hung it on the coat rack by the door, and kicked off my shoes, leaving them neatly by the entrance. The wooden floor was cool under my feet as I headed up the stairs. The house was comfortable, lived in, with pictures of our friends and family lining the walls. It felt like the sort of place that had absorbed years of laughter, joy, and love—a sanctuary of sorts.
The door to our bedroom was ajar, and as I stepped in, I immediately noticed the gentle sound of running water. The steady hiss of the shower, muffled slightly by the bathroom door, told me Ginny was inside. A smirk tugged at my lips as I looked around the room, my eyes landing on a small pile of clothes she had laid out on the bed. Ginny was always meticulous, even about her post-shower routine, setting everything in order beforehand.
And there, right on top of the neatly folded pile, was a pair of blue lace panties.
I chuckled softly to myself, crossing the room to where the clothes lay. My fingers brushed over the soft fabric, lifting the delicate garment. The lace was intricate, almost fragile, and I could picture Ginny wearing them—how the deep blue contrasted so perfectly against her pale skin. A mischievous idea sparked in my mind, one I hadn't entertained in a while, but tonight seemed as good a time as any.
Setting the panties back down for a moment, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wand. The familiar weight of it in my hand always brought a sense of comfort, but right now, it held something more—a sense of anticipation. I muttered a spell, one I had crafted over time, tinkering with magic in ways that were likely not Ministry-approved, but I wasn't one for following rules to the letter, not when it came to moments like these.
"Vestis Transfigura"
The transformation was instant, but I felt every moment of it, every shift in the fabric of my being as my body morphed into something entirely different. It was disorienting but thrilling, as though every nerve in my body was aware of its new shape. My limbs flattened, my skin softened into delicate lace, and I felt myself losing weight, growing smaller, lighter, until I was no longer Harry Potter, the man. I was something else entirely—an object, yet still aware, still thinking, still waiting.
A gentle breeze from the window caught my new form, and I floated down through the air, landing softly on the bed atop the pile of clothes Ginny had laid out. I felt the weight of the other garments beside me—her jeans, her blouse, her socks—but my new form was so light, so thin, that it hardly mattered. I was now just a pair of blue lace panties, resting there in anticipation.
The shower continued to run in the background, its steady hiss a countdown to what would come next. The minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer as my anticipation grew. I could hear the faint sound of water splashing against the tile, the occasional soft thud as Ginny moved around inside the bathroom. It was a waiting game, but one I was more than happy to play.
Finally, the water slowed to a trickle, then stopped entirely. I heard the faint tremor of Ginny's feet against the bathroom floor as she stepped out of the tub. My senses, now heightened in this form, picked up the subtle vibrations of her movements. Each step was a light tremor, a gentle quake in the world around me. The towel rustled as she dried herself off, and I could almost picture her standing there, her skin still warm and damp from the shower.
I didn't have to imagine for long. The bathroom door creaked open, and Ginny stepped through, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor of our bedroom. From my new perspective, low on the bed, I could only see her from the knees up at first. Her legs were long and toned, muscles flexing gently with each step she took. Her skin had that post-shower glow, a warm flush that made her look even more radiant.
As she walked further into the room, I could see more of her. The towels she had wrapped around herself clung to her body, hugging her curves in a way that made my heart—or whatever semblance of a heart I had in this form—race with excitement. The larger towel was wrapped around her chest, tightly secured just beneath her arms, while a smaller towel was twisted around her hair, keeping the damp strands from dripping.
The way the fabric hugged her body accentuated every detail, the swell of her hips, the curve of her waist, and the fullness of her breasts. She moved with a casual grace, completely unaware of the game I had set in motion. Her bare feet pressed gently into the floor, sending small vibrations that I could feel from my place on the bed. It was an odd sensation, being so aware of her movements while she had no idea that I was watching.
Ginny walked over to the mirror on the wall, her reflection coming into view. From my vantage point, I could only see her from below, but even that was enough to take in the sheer beauty of her form. As she bent forward slightly, her perfect, round ass was framed beautifully by the towel, the fabric straining just a little as it followed the curve of her body. She straightened up, her damp hair still wrapped in the smaller towel, and turned around, finally glancing down at the clothes she had laid out on the bed.
My heart leapt in my chest—or at least, I imagined it did—as her eyes fell on the pile of clothes, and me, right there at the top of it. Her gaze lingered for just a moment before she moved, her hand going to the back of the towel that was wrapped around her body. She pulled at the knot gently, her fingers deftly loosening the fabric with ease.
The towel loosened, and with one smooth motion, it fell away from her body.
The sight was breathtaking, even from my limited view. Ginny's chest was bare now, her skin flushed from the heat of the shower, her breasts full and perfect. The gentle rise and fall of her breathing was mesmerizing, each breath she took sending a soft ripple through her body. She stood there for a moment, completely unaware that I was watching her from my transformed state. There was something so natural, so intimate about the way she moved, as though this was just another quiet evening for her.
But for me, it was so much more.
Ginny stepped closer to the bed, her giant figure towering over me now, her every movement sending soft vibrations through the mattress. Her hand reached out, those familiar fingers extending toward the pile of clothes. My breath—or at least the excitement that mimicked breath—caught in my chest as her fingers brushed against the fabric of the jeans and blouse before finally reaching me.
Her touch was soft but deliberate as she grasped the delicate lace fabric of the panties—me. I felt the warmth of her skin, the gentle pressure of her fingers as she lifted me up from the pile. The sensation was strange but exhilarating, feeling her fingers so close, holding me so carefully. I could see her face now, up close. Her eyes were focused, curious, as she examined the lace in her hands. Her lips curved into a small, thoughtful smile as she felt the softness of the fabric between her fingers.
For a moment, she simply stood there, looking down at me, running her fingers over the lace with that familiar tenderness I knew so well. She didn't know it, but I could feel everything—the warmth of her skin, the gentle way she held me. It was as though I was more aware of her touch than I had ever been before.
The world slowed down as Ginny's giant fingers held me gently, her soft grip cradling my form as she lowered me toward the floor. I could feel every detail—the warmth of her skin, the slight tremor in her hands as she moved, the subtle texture of her fingertips pressing into the lace that was now me. Time stretched out in those moments, each second feeling like an eternity as I descended, closer and closer to the ground. The air rushed past me, though it was little more than a whisper in my current state.
As she lowered me, I caught glimpses of her body, towering above like a monument of living flesh. Her legs were long, smooth, and perfectly toned, and from my perspective, they seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky. The soft light of the room highlighted every muscle, every curve. Her skin glowed, still warm and damp from the shower, and I could see the tiny droplets of water clinging to her thighs. My eyes—if you could call them that now—traced upwards, past her hips, to the space high above me where her entrance was barely visible, a shadowed opening far in the distance. It felt so surreal, seeing her like this from such a different point of view, like I was witnessing something both intimate and monumental.
Her hands moved with gentle precision as she lifted her right leg and slid it inside me. I felt the delicate pressure of her skin against my fabric as her leg slipped through. Every inch of her was soft, warm, and I could sense every slight movement as she pushed her leg further in. The sensation of her moving within me was indescribable—an intimate connection unlike anything I had ever felt before. I could sense the subtle flex of her calf muscle, the warmth radiating from her body, as she slowly guided her leg through me.
Next came her left leg, sliding in just as smoothly, her towering form shifting slightly as she balanced herself. I could see it all from my position, her towering thighs closing in on either side of me, framing the world in a way that made everything seem distant and small by comparison.
And then, Ginny began to pull me up.
Slowly, steadily, her hands rose, and with each passing second, her body came closer. Her hips, her thighs, her stomach—all of it drew nearer, until the view of her entrance, which had once been so high above me, grew larger, more defined. The folds of her body, the delicate skin around her entrance, loomed ahead like a vast, living landscape. The heat radiating from her was palpable, and the scent of her skin was intoxicating, a mix of lavender soap and the natural warmth that was uniquely hers.
And then, just like that, I was there, covering her completely.
I could feel her soft, gentle hands securing me around her waist, adjusting me so that I fit snugly against her body. Her hips shifted slightly as she moved, and I could feel every subtle motion as her body pressed into me, molding me to her form. The pressure was constant, but not uncomfortable—it was more like an embrace, a closeness that was both exhilarating and surreal.
In that moment, my perspective changed. Suddenly, I wasn't just fabric anymore. My viewpoint shifted, and now I could see the world from a new angle, facing outward from her crotch. I could feel myself wrapped tightly around her, my form clinging to every curve of her body. I was part of her now, a delicate layer of lace that encased her most intimate parts. The sensation was overwhelming, the closeness, the warmth, the constant contact with her skin.
From my vantage point, I could see Ginny as she bent over slightly to pick up her bra. Her figure was enormous, but graceful, her movements deliberate yet effortless. As she straightened up, she turned toward the mirror, holding the bra in her hands. The mirror was large, reflecting her full form, and I had the perfect view of everything. I could see the way her breasts hung slightly, still flushed from the warmth of the shower, and how her skin seemed to glow in the soft light of the room.
She slipped the bra on, her fingers expertly fastening it behind her back, and as she adjusted the straps, I could see the way her breasts lifted, the fabric hugging her curves in much the same way I was. Ginny paused for a moment, her eyes studying her reflection, and I could feel the slight shift in her body as she examined herself.
I could see everything now—her curves, her strength, her beauty. And from this unique perspective, it was as though I was part of her, experiencing her movements, her grace, in a way I had never imagined possible.
Ginny took her time, turning slowly in front of the mirror, admiring herself from different angles. The room was silent except for the occasional soft rustle of fabric as she shifted her weight or moved her arms. I could feel every slight movement, the way her hips swayed gently, the soft flex of her thighs as she turned. My view would shift with each turn, giving me glimpses of her body from every angle, and I could sense her pride, her confidence, as she looked at herself in the mirror.
Then, in one smooth motion, she placed her hands on her butt and gave it a playful squeeze.
I could feel the gentle pressure as her fingers pressed into me, squeezing her flesh, and the sensation sent a thrill through me. It was so intimate, so close, that I could hardly believe I was experiencing it. She laughed softly to herself, the sound like music, before speaking out loud.
"I love these panties," she said, her voice light and satisfied.
The words sent a jolt of excitement through me. She had no idea that I was right there with her, that I was the very thing she was admiring. The thought filled me with a strange sense of pride and joy, knowing that she found pleasure in something that was, in truth, me.
After a few more moments of admiring herself, Ginny turned away from the mirror and reached for the rest of her clothes. Her movements were still slow, deliberate, and I could feel every slight shift as she bent down to pick up her jeans from the bed. She held them in her hands for a moment, shaking them out before stepping into them one leg at a time. I watched as her body moved with practiced ease, sliding into the denim that would soon cover me.
As she pulled the jeans up, my world began to darken.
The fabric of the jeans slid over me, enclosing me in a snug, tight embrace. The light from the room dimmed, and my view was reduced to mere shadows as the material wrapped around Ginny's hips and thighs. The sensation of being covered was strange, but not uncomfortable. In fact, the tightness of the jeans only served to bind me closer to her, pressing me even more intimately against her skin.
I could feel the subtle pressure as she zipped up her jeans, securing them around her waist. The denim held me in place, firm and tight, and I could sense the way her body moved as she adjusted herself, settling into the fabric. My world was darker now, but I could still feel everything—the warmth of her skin, the soft movements of her body as she shifted and moved.
And as the zipper clicked into place, I felt it: I was exactly where I belonged, bound tightly to her waist, my fabric clinging to her like a second skin. The sensation was overwhelming, the closeness, the intimacy of it all.
Ginny stood there for a moment, adjusting her jeans, making sure they fit just right. And as I rested against her, wrapped snugly around her body, I couldn't help but feel a sense of completion. I was part of her now, in the most intimate way possible.
The world around me shifted as Ginny moved, her body swaying gently with each step she took. I could feel everything—the pull of her muscles as her hips moved, the press of her thighs against me, and most notably, the gentle, ever-present warmth of her damp entrance against my form. Every motion, every step, sent a wave of pressure and heat through me, as though I had become part of the rhythm of her body, moving in perfect sync with her.
Her first steps were slow, deliberate, as she adjusted to the snug fit of her jeans. Each movement sent a faint tremor through me, a slight shift in the tight, comfortable compression that surrounded me. I could feel the denim pressing me closer to her skin, trapping me against the softness of her body. The dampness from her recent shower clung to me, soaking into my fabric. Her warmth, her scent, everything about her filled my senses—though sense itself had taken on a new, otherworldly meaning in this form. I was no longer experiencing the world through sight and sound alone, but through touch, scent, and pressure.
With each step, I felt the subtle shift of her weight, the way her body adjusted to balance itself. Her entrance, still slightly damp, pressed firmly against me with every movement, the leftover water from her shower soaking into the lace that made up my new form. The sensation was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was intimate, almost overwhelming, the closeness of it all. Her scent was intoxicating—a heady mix of soap and her own natural aroma that filled me completely, surrounding me, becoming part of me.
After a few steps, Ginny sat down, and the world around me compressed even more. The sudden change in position pressed me tightly against her, her weight shifting as she settled into the chair. The pressure was intense, almost overwhelming, as my form was crushed between her body and the seat. I could feel the heat of her entrance pressing more firmly against me, the warmth seeping through my fabric, mingling with the lingering dampness. It was as if the very essence of her was wrapping itself around me, filling every part of my transformed being.
The pressure increased as she leaned forward slightly, perhaps to reach for something on the table or adjust her position. With every shift of her weight, I was compressed even more tightly against her, my form conforming perfectly to the curves of her body. It was intimate in a way I had never known, as if every movement she made, every breath she took, was shared between us. I was a part of her now, inseparable, and the sensation of that closeness was both exhilarating and terrifying.
And then, a thought crept into my mind, one that sent a shiver of unease through me. I could feel it—the faintest flicker of something slipping away. It was as if a part of me was starting to fade, a distant memory that I couldn't quite grasp. I tried to focus on it, to hold onto it, but the harder I tried, the more it slipped away. The memory wasn't anything specific—just a vague sense of myself, of being human, of being Harry. It was fleeting, but it was enough to remind me of the risk I had taken.
The longer I stayed in this form, the more I risked losing parts of myself. The spell wasn't meant to last forever, and if I lingered too long, I knew the side effects could become irreversible. But even with that knowledge, I couldn't bring myself to care. Not right now. The sensations coursing through me were too intense, too overwhelming to ignore. The connection I felt to Ginny, the way her body moved and pressed against me, was all-consuming.
As Ginny stood up from the chair, I felt the pressure release slightly, though the tightness around her waist remained. Her body shifted again, and I was pressed once more against her warm skin as she moved. The world around me swayed gently as she walked out of the bedroom, the familiar tremors of her footsteps resonating through me. Each step sent a wave of sensation through my form, reminding me again of just how deeply connected we were.
I felt everything—her muscles flexing, her hips swaying, the gentle rise and fall of her body as she walked. The sensation of her entrance pressing against me was ever-present, a constant reminder of the intimacy we shared in this moment. It was a closeness that went beyond anything physical, a bond that was both thrilling and terrifying.
The sensation of Ginny's body moving around me was overwhelming, filling every inch of my transformed form with the heat and pressure of her body. Every step she took was a pulse, a steady rhythm that pressed her soft, damp skin against me. The warmth of her entrance was ever-present, a near-constant reminder of the closeness we shared now. It radiated through me, a heat that pulsed with every subtle movement she made. I could feel her, all of her—the gentle pressure of her thighs as they moved, the tickling brush of her light pubic hair against my fabric, a soft whisper of sensation that sent shivers through what was left of my consciousness.
As Ginny walked around the house, I felt the steady rhythm of her body moving, each step sending a wave of pressure through me as her hips shifted. Her jeans held me tight against her, pressing my form firmly to her skin, the friction making every movement feel like an embrace. When she bent over slightly to pick up her purse, I felt the world around me tighten even more, her weight shifting forward as her hips pressed me harder against her. The heat intensified for a moment, the dampness of her entrance pushing against me with renewed force, before she straightened up again.
With a click, the door to the house opened, and Ginny stepped out into the world, the sound of it closing behind her muffled in the confines of her jeans. A few more steps, and I felt it again—that faint, unsettling sensation of something slipping away from me. Memories, pieces of who I was, seemed to blur around the edges of my mind. I could feel them slipping through my grasp, but I couldn't focus on them for long. The sensations of her body moving around me, the warmth, the closeness—it was all too overwhelming, too consuming to think about anything else.
Ginny walked for a while, and I felt every step as if it were my own. The steady sway of her hips, the press of her buttocks against me as she moved, created a rhythm that was almost hypnotic. I could hear faint, muffled sounds—conversations, perhaps—though the words were distorted, their meanings lost to me. Still, I could sense the world outside in snippets, as though I were underwater, and every step Ginny took grounded me in her world.
Every now and then, Ginny would stop, and I could feel her pause, her weight shifting as she stood in place. The muffled sounds of other people—giants from my perspective—reached my ears in distorted booms, but they were distant, like echoes from a world far above me. And yet, I was having the time of my life, reveling in the sensations, the closeness, the sheer intimacy of being so tightly pressed against her.
But then something changed.
Ginny came to a stop again, but this time, the world around me felt different. The air shifted, and then I heard it—a booming male voice, muffled but unmistakably familiar.
"Well, hello there," the voice rumbled, the sound vibrating through Ginny's body and, by extension, through me.
For a split second, I was frozen. The voice—it was Draco Malfoy. Shock washed over me, a momentary break in the rhythm of sensations that had consumed me so thoroughly. Ginny's body shifted as she stepped forward, and I heard her respond with a cheerful tone, "Hello, Draco."
The next thing I felt sent a jolt through me—a hand, large and masculine, moving onto Ginny's ass. The pressure was sudden and firm, grasping her tightly, and by extension, me. The weight of Draco's hand pressed me harder against her skin, the sudden contact making me acutely aware of how close I was to both of them. The warmth of Ginny's body, the heat of her entrance, the tickling brush of her hair—all of it was pushed against me even tighter by the weight of Draco's grasp.
My mind raced. I couldn't believe what was happening. Draco Malfoy, of all people, was touching her—touching me. The pressure of his hand lingered for a few agonising seconds before it finally released, but his hand remained.
Ginny's voice came again, cheerful and light, but the words she spoke made my stomach—or what was left of it—lurch. "Harry won't be home for two more nights, so I can come over," she said.
My world tilted, the words echoing in my mind, but I couldn't think. I couldn't react. All I could do was feel. The warmth of her body, the pressure of her jeans, the steady rhythm of her breathing—it was all I had left to hold onto as the shock of her words tried to seep into my consciousness. But I couldn't dwell on it. The sensations were too overwhelming, too powerful to let me focus on anything else.
Draco's hand moved again, just briefly, before returning to give her ass a firm tap. I felt the impact reverberate through me, her body jolting ever so slightly from the force of it. Ginny giggled softly, the sound vibrating through her as she started to walk again. I could feel the sway of her hips as she moved, the familiar rhythm of her body now laced with an unsettling new context.
As Ginny took those first few steps, I felt a wave of relief as Draco's hand finally lifted away. It was like the weight of an intruder had been removed, though his touch still lingered in my mind, a faint echo of something I didn't want to acknowledge. But there was no time to dwell on it. Ginny was walking again, and as she moved, I could feel every subtle shift, every press of her skin against me, the friction of her thighs and her warmth radiating through the fabric.
Her pace was steady, each step a gentle compression that bound me tighter to her, the contours of her body molding around me. I could hear the distant, muffled sound of their voices as they walked, though the words were distorted, almost beyond recognition. There was laughter—soft, teasing giggles from Ginny, and a lower, more confident tone from Draco. It didn't take much imagination to know what was being said. The playful flirtation between them was palpable, even from where I was, trapped in my transformed state.
The sensation of walking, of her body in motion, was almost hypnotic. The steady rhythm of her hips swaying, her thighs brushing together, the warmth of her damp entrance against me—it was all I could focus on. And yet, somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind, something was changing. The more time I spent in this form, the more my memories seemed to slip away, like sand falling through my fingers. Faces, moments, pieces of myself were fading, replaced by a strange, almost numbing focus on the present.
I was here to serve her. The thought came unbidden, a whisper in the back of my mind. I existed to please her, to be close to her, to wrap around her and—
No. That wasn't right.
She was my wife, not my owner. I clung to that thought, forcing it to the front of my mind, though it felt strangely distant, like I was trying to hold onto something that was slowly drifting away from me. I was Harry, her husband, and this was a game. A thrill. But the longer I remained in this form, the more that truth seemed to blur, as if my very identity was slipping through the cracks of the spell that bound me.
The world outside shifted again as Ginny and Draco came to a stop. I could feel her body pause, her weight settling briefly before moving again. The sound of a door opening reached my ears, muffled but distinct, followed by the creak of wood underfoot. The air felt cooler now, like they had stepped into a different space. I heard Draco's voice, low and teasing, though I couldn't make out the words. Whatever he said made Ginny laugh again, a playful, flirtatious giggle that sent a shiver through me.
I felt her step forward, the motion causing my form to compress tightly against her as she walked into the house. There was another tap, Draco's hand connecting with her ass once more, sending a ripple through her body—and through me. The giggle that followed was almost infectious, as though Ginny was enjoying every moment of this game, her steps quickening with excitement.
Ginny's pace picked up as they moved through the house. I could feel the shift in her movements as she started to climb a set of stairs, each step a thunderous press that compressed me tightly against her with every upward motion. The force was almost too much to process; with each footfall, I was squeezed and released in quick succession, the pressure building and then easing as she hurried up the flight of stairs. My senses were overwhelmed, my form crushed between her body and the tightness of her jeans, her thighs brushing together with each rapid step.
The sound of the stairs creaked beneath her weight, and I could hear Draco's footsteps close behind, his presence looming just out of reach. The two giants above me moved quickly, the sound of their laughter and teasing filling the space around them, though it was still muffled to me, as if I were hearing everything from beneath a thick layer of fabric and flesh. And in a way, I was.
Finally, they reached the top of the stairs, and Ginny's hurried footsteps slowed as she walked into what I assumed was a bedroom. The door clicked shut behind them, the sound more distinct now, signalling that we were alone. Alone with Draco.
The world around me shifted as Ginny turned, her body moving with a smooth, practiced grace. And then I felt it—two large hands, not Ginny's, but Draco's, wrapping around her waist. His fingers grasped her ass firmly, pressing into her, and by extension, into me. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming, his grip tightening as he pulled her close. The heat of Ginny's body was all I could feel as Draco's hands pressed me even harder against her.
I could hear them now, the sounds of their breathing, their lips meeting in a soft, sensual kiss that reverberated through Ginny's body and into me. The heat between them was palpable, every motion, every shift of their bodies felt as though it were happening directly to me. The intimacy of it was undeniable, as Draco's hands remained firmly on Ginny's ass, squeezing and holding her in place as they kissed.
The pressure of his grasp was constant, the weight of his touch pushing me deeper into her skin. I was trapped, caught between them, unable to do anything but feel—feel the closeness of their bodies, the heat of their passion, the intensity of the moment.
The heat between Ginny and Draco intensified above me, and I could feel everything. Every squeeze of Draco's hands on Ginny's butt, every subtle movement of her body, it all pressed me closer to her, trapping me in the space where their passion was building. The warmth of Ginny's entrance grew, and I felt the unmistakable moisture beginning to soak through me. Her arousal seeped into my fabric, her natural juices absorbed by my form, mingling with the warmth already radiating from her skin. The sensation was overwhelming, intimate, and all-consuming.
As Draco's hands continued to explore her, one hand sliding around to the front of her waist while the other squeezed her butt in rhythmic pulses, I felt the world shift again. Ginny's body responded, her muscles tensing as a soft moan escaped her lips. The sound reverberated through me like a wave, sending a jolt of sensation through my form. Her body moved, taking a small step backward, and I was pressed even tighter against her as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
The mattress dipped under her weight, and the pressure of her thighs against me increased. Draco's hands were still all over her, his lips continuing to meet hers in hungry, heated kisses, broken only by quick, gasping breaths. With each shift of her body, I felt the friction between her skin and my fabric, the heat growing as I absorbed more of her moisture. It was as though her very essence was seeping into me, melding us together in a way I hadn't imagined when I first cast the spell.
And then, everything changed. The tight confines of the jeans that had held me in place shifted. I felt the denim loosen around me as Ginny moved her hands to her waistband. The world that had been dark and warm suddenly filled with light, blinding and overwhelming. As her jeans were pulled away, the sudden exposure made everything more intense. The cool air from the room hit me like a wave, contrasting sharply with the warmth I'd been pressed into for so long.
Before I could even adjust to the change, before I could make sense of the sudden burst of light, I felt something else—Ginny's fingers, giant and soft, wrapping around me. Her touch was firm, decisive, as she grabbed hold of me, her fingers pressing into the damp fabric that was now my body. Without hesitation, she tugged. The motion was swift, almost careless, and I was yanked down her legs with a quick, forceful pull. The sensation of sliding down her smooth skin, past her thighs, her knees, her calves, was dizzying, disorienting.
And then, in one fluid motion, she tossed me aside.
Her hand, still large and powerful from my perspective, released me into the air with a casual flick, as though I were nothing more than an afterthought. I flew through the air, weightless for a moment, the world spinning around me as I tumbled toward the nightstand. The air rushed past me, and I hit the wooden surface with a soft thud, landing in a crumpled heap.
For a moment, I lay there, still damp from the mixture of her arousal and the residual moisture from the shower. My form felt heavier now, soaked through, the weight of her scent and her touch clinging to me. I tried to gather myself, to focus, but my thoughts were muddled, blurry. The sensation of flying through the air, of being tossed aside so easily, left me reeling.
From my new vantage point, I could see everything. Ginny moved gracefully, her body illuminated by the soft light in the room. She stretched out, lying back on the bed, her skin glowing, her body relaxed and open. The sheets rustled beneath her as she shifted, her legs parting slightly as she settled into the mattress. Her breath came in soft, steady rhythms now, anticipation filling the air around her.
Draco stood at the foot of the bed, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt. With a single, fluid motion, he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside, revealing the lean, muscular frame beneath. His body was familiar, yet foreign, and I watched as he stepped toward the bed, his eyes locked on Ginny's, his intent clear.
From my place on the nightstand, I could only watch as Draco climbed on top of Ginny, his body moving with a fluid grace that seemed almost detached from the intensity of the moment. His muscles flexed beneath his pale skin, and with one smooth motion, he settled between Ginny's thighs, positioning himself over her. Their bodies aligned perfectly, as if they'd done this before, as if this was just another night for them. The soft light from the room cast shadows on their forms, highlighting every curve, every angle, every line of their bodies as they moved together.
Draco leaned down, his lips meeting Ginny's in a heated kiss, muffling the soft moans that escaped from her throat. I could see the tension in her body, the way her back arched slightly as he kissed her, the way her hands gripped the sheets beneath her. Her legs parted wider, and I watched, helpless, as Draco adjusted himself, his hips pressing forward until he entered her with a slow, deliberate thrust.
Ginny's breath hitched in response, her body tensing for a moment before relaxing into the pleasure. Draco moved slowly at first, taking his time, each thrust deep and measured, as if savoring every second of their connection. From where I lay, I could see the way Ginny's body responded to him, the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the soft moans that slipped between their kisses. Her skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, her body alive with pleasure, and I could feel the heat radiating from them even from where I lay.
The intimacy of their connection was overwhelming, and yet, all I could do was watch. Draco's movements became more forceful, his thrusts picking up speed as he pushed deeper into her, and I could feel the nightstand beneath me begin to shake. The tremors were subtle at first, just a gentle vibration that ran through the wood, but as Draco's pace quickened, the shaking became more pronounced. With each thrust, the nightstand jolted slightly, the rhythm of their bodies sending ripples through the surface I lay on.
Ginny's moans grew louder, more desperate, as Draco's thrusts became harder, faster. Her hands clawed at the sheets, her hips lifting to meet his movements, and the bed creaked beneath them, their weight and passion testing its limits. I could feel the intensity of their union reverberating through the room, the sound of their skin slapping together filling the air, mingling with their heavy breathing and soft cries of pleasure.
The nightstand continued to shake, harder and harder, and I could feel myself sliding closer to the edge with each passing second. The vibrations beneath me made it impossible to stay in one place, and before I knew it, I was halfway off the nightstand, teetering on the edge. The sensation of falling was slow, drawn out, as if time itself had slowed to a crawl.
And then, with one final, powerful thrust, Draco finished.
Ginny's body tensed beneath him, her head thrown back as she cried out in ecstasy, her voice mixing with Draco's deep groan as they reached their peak together. The force of their climax sent the nightstand into one last shuddering tremor, and I felt myself lose my balance entirely. The world tilted, and I tumbled forward, falling off the nightstand and crashing face-first onto the floor below.
The impact was disorienting, my body crumpling in a heap of lace and fabric as I hit the hardwood floor. For a moment, I lay there, dazed and motionless, the sounds of their pleasure still ringing in my ears. The floor was cold, a stark contrast to the heat of the bed above, and the scent of their lovemaking hung heavy in the air, a reminder of everything that had just transpired.
Above me, I could hear them breathing heavily, their bodies slowly relaxing as the intensity of their climax faded. The bed creaked as Draco shifted his weight, rolling off of Ginny and settling beside her, their bodies entangled in the sheets. I could hear Ginny's soft sighs, the contentment in her voice as she whispered something to Draco, though I couldn't make out the words. Their conversation was muted, intimate, a private moment shared between two people who had just been lost in each other.
I was still damp from Ginny's earlier arousal, her scent clinging to me, a constant reminder of my place in all of this. I wanted to close my eyes, to block out the sounds of their post-coital whispers, but I couldn't. Sleep wasn't an option for me in this form. I was forced to listen, to be present, to witness every moment as the night dragged on.
The bed shifted again, and I could hear them moving, their voices quiet but charged with a different kind of energy now. There was a soft laugh from Ginny, followed by a low murmur from Draco. And then, before I could even process it, they were at it again.
I could hear the sounds of them coming together once more, the bed creaking beneath their weight, their moans filling the room. The rhythm of their bodies returned, faster this time, more urgent, more primal. The floor beneath me seemed to pulse with every movement, every thrust, as the bed rocked back and forth, the sound of their passion echoing in my ears.
And so it continued.
All night.
They would pause, catching their breath, only for the sounds to start again, a steady cycle of moans, laughter, and whispered words I couldn't hear. Each time they came together, it was as if the world outside ceased to exist, and I was forced to endure it all, trapped in my silent, inanimate form.
By the time the night began to fade into early morning, I had lost track of how many times they had gone on and off. My mind felt dull, my thoughts blurred by the constant repetition of the sounds of their lovemaking. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't close my eyes, and I couldn't escape.
All I could do was listen. And wait.