Author: sapphocles (aka freckles42
Length: ~ 2600
Summary: Ron and Ginny grow together through the years, ending with a night they'll both remember.
Author notes: Many thanks to my beta for being lovely. Any remaining errors are my own. Thank you to the mods for giving me a chance to pinch-hit!
Disclaimer: All sexual activity portrayed in this fic is between two consenting adults who are at least 18 years of age. I do not own any of the characters.
Ginny had been two the first time she went scrambling into Ron's bed ("Two-and-a-half!" she would insist around a thumb and her security bunny). It was back before they finished the attic or put the new roof on, and she could hear the insistent drumming of the rain against the corrugated roof. Her parents had taken her out of her crib and told her it was time to sleep in a big girl bed. It was just like Ron's, they said, wouldn't that be fun? That first night, though, a storm blew up. The ghoul was rattling in the pipes as she slid out of her bed and hurried across the cold, wooden floor (Mr Bun-Bun in tow, holding him by the ears), stepping around their blocks until she was standing by Ron's bed.
"Ginny?" Ron asked, his blue eyes blinking at her in the dim ambient light. Ginny could just see the collar of Ron's new pajamas that he'd got for his fourth birthday the week prior. He was so proud of them that he wore them around the Burrow day in and day out, only taking them off for their Mummy to clean them.
"I'm scared," Ginny said, fidgeting in the cold of the room. "Can I sleep with you?"
Ron nodded and Ginny smiled around her thumb before a rumble of thunder sent her climbing quickly into her brother's bed. She snuggled up close against him and gripped her bunny tightly.
"It's okay," Ron said, plenty of room in his twin bed for the two of them but sharing the close space (it felt like miles to the edge of the mattress!). He hugged his baby sister and in his four-year-old mind promised himself he'd always take care of her.
"I'm right here. And I won't fall asleep 'til you do. 'kay?"
She turned over and faced him, smiling, thumb still in her mouth.
He watched her until he was certain she was asleep, then let his eyes close as well.
When Ron was nine and Ginny had just turned eight, Fred and George left for Hogwarts. Over their lives they had said good-bye to each of their older brothers in turn as they'd left got onto the train at Platform 9 ¾. Molly always cried, but it was a little less with each passing year. This time, she looked almost relieved as they returned to the Burrow. The house was going to be much quieter without those two around – especially without them to encourage Ginny's mischievous side.
"Ron, Ginny," she said, leaning against the counter briefly, smiling as she took off her shawl. "Why don't you two go play upstairs for a bit, dears? I'll call you down for lunch."
"Cooooomics!" Ron shouted as he practically tripped up the stairs. He'd just started reading about Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle and had been regaling his family with the stories for the past two weeks ("Did you know he can't do anything you can, Dad? He rides in a car everywhere! And he uses paper money to pay for things! And he doesn't know his landlady is a witch! And his mirror doesn't talk!").
"No more Martin Miggs!," Ginny sighed loudly, lifting one foot laboriously onto each step to the beat of her words. "Boring!"
"Then you'd best go distract him, dear," Molly said, waving a hand. "Now run along or else he'll be so far into those books of his you won't be able to tear him away from them for the rest of the day." She called a jar of flour over to her with a wave of her wand and she smiled at her only daughter. "And pick up your feet, dear, you sound like an ogre when you walk about like that."
Ginny rolled her eyes and picked up her feet dramatically, then setting each one down daintily while giving her mother a dirty look as she made her way up the twisting, rambling staircase to Ron's room at the top of the house. She kicked a turned-up corner of one of the rugs before opening Ron's door without knocking.
Ron lay on the floor of his room, comics strewn about him, laughing and shaking his head at the latest exploits of Martin Miggs. "Oh, that Martin," he chuckled, barely sparing a glance for his sister when she entered. "Oh, hi Ginny," he said, looking back down at his comic and turning the page.
"Ron, Mummy says you're to put your comics away and play with me," she said, sitting down heavily on the edge of the spare bed – the one that used to be hers back when they were really little.
Ron raised his chin at her and narrowed his eyes. He knew when his sister was trying to manipulate him by now, though most of the time he just went with it. Deep down he wanted to make her happy, though sometimes he felt she was happiest when she was being contrary (though he never would have expressed it that way; it would come out more, "Ginny likes to take me 'round the bend, but that's okay.").
"Bet she didn't," he said, deciding to challenge her.
She rolled her eyes and flopped back on the bed. "She might've, you know. And what if she did?" She swung her legs, heels clunking against the wooden frame.
"She didn't," Ron declared, certain now. He looked back down at his comics wistfully; he knew that there was no way Ginny was going to let this go; he'd end up having to play with her until she got bored of him and then he could finish his comics.
He went and flopped next to her. She kept staring up at the ceiling, deliberately ignoring him for as long as she could stand. The words out of her mouth, though, weren't the ones that Ron was expecting.
"Why aren't I allowed to sleep with you anymore when I'm scared?" she asked quietly. "Mummy told me I shouldn't anymore, since I'm a big girl and you're a big boy and that we've both got to stay in our own beds now."
Ron nodded. "Dad said the same thing," he said, making a face. "I dunno, Gingerbread," he continued slowly, "he also told me about some other things, and I guess I kind of get why it's not okay any more."
Ginny turned to look at him, fringe falling in her brown eyes as she frowned. "Why not? Ron, did they tell you something they didn't tell me? Why do they always do that? I'm not too young! Tell me!"
"I," Ron stammered, suddenly blushing. "I don't know if I should, Ginny, Dad said-"
"Tell me what he said!" she demanded, sitting up, eyes flashing angrily. He sat up, too, refusing to let her bully him.
"Not if you're going to shout!" he said loudly, brow knitting together as he scowled at her. He crossed his arms.
"Fine!" Ginny said equally loudly, copying his gesture. She leaned in and pressed her forehead against his, staring hard into his eyes.
"You've brought this on yourself," Ron warned, pressing back against her forehead, agreeing to her staring contest challenge. They pushed their heads hard against each other, eyes narrowed. Ron had found that the best thing to do was to focus on the freckles on Ginny's eyelids and count them over and over until she caved. One, two – and then he was thinking about all the things his dad had explained to him not long before, about how girls and boys are very different and of course he was starting to notice these things, too, and suddenly his sister wasn't just his sister; she was a girl with freckles on her nose (and everywhere else) and she smelled like daisies and dirt and oh. He went red and pulled back, not at all sure what to think. Ginny grinned triumphantly.
"I win!" she declared as Ron rubbed at the red spot on his forehead, avoiding her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, you win, loads of conkers for you," he said, smoothing down his fringe which immediately skewed disobediently.
"Ooh, conkers!" she said, eyes going wide as she sat up, brightening. She grabbed his hand and tugged on it. "Let's go out to the conker tree and see if they've started to fall! We can play and throw the bad ones at the garden gnomes."
Ron grinned, glad to be distracted from thinking of Ginny as anything but Ginny.
Ginny's first night at Hogwarts, Ron woke up to find her sneaking into his bed. He'd been in the middle of a rather vivid dream about Hermione who had turned into Professor McGonagall and he really didn't want to think about what that might mean and then there was Ginny crawling in next to him and he did not want her to feel his response to his dream. But she was under the covers before he could protest and she curled up against him, her smaller body bent in such a way that she just barely missed grazing against his erection.
"I left Mr Bun at home," she whispered, sounding desperate to be strong but clearly having a hard time without her favourite stuffed toy. "I forgot him. And now I can't get to sleep."
Ron wrapped his arm around her and lay still (willing his erection away) until he heard her breathing change and he was certain she was asleep. Then he finally permitted himself to drift off.
When he woke up in the morning with yet another painfully hard erection, she was gone. But he took care of her; he always did.
It was the night before Bill and Fleur's wedding when Ginny stumbled into Ron's room, tipsy. Ron himself was sprawled across his bed, too-long legs dangling as he stared at the ceiling and tried to forget about the painful excavating that the firewhiskey seemed to be doing through his liver. Ginny giggled and tottered towards Ron, pulling up her skirt so she could kick her shoes off. One went flying under Ron's bed and the other narrowly missed his head.
"Oi, watch it!" he griped, belatedly putting his hand up to catch the errant heel, which had already hit the wall and wedged itself neatly between his headboard and his Canons calendar.
"You watch it!" Ginny responded, standing at the side of his bed with her hands on her hips. "Come on now, budge over, give us some room." She leaned over and tried to lift one of Ron's legs to make room. He wouldn't move it.
"Arse," she declared, starting to climb over him to get into the small area between him and the wall.
"Where do you think you're goin'?" Ron asked, putting his hands on her hips to stop her from crawling over him. "There's plenty of room on your old bed, go have a lie-down over there." He looked down at his hands and oh gods down her shirt and sweet Merlin she wasn't wearing a bra and he was blushing, his face feeling the colour of his hair. He pulled his hands back and looked away, hoping she'd chalk it up to too many celebratory drinks.
"Come on, Ron," she said, sitting back so she was straddling his thighs. "We used to sleep in the same bed all the time." She wobbled a little and put her hands on his stomach to steady herself. Ron was extremely thankful for the deadening effect that alcohol had on his nether regions, though if she kept touching him he wouldn't be able to stop his body's reaction. In all the years since he'd started to notice his sister as a girl and now a young woman, he had tried to push back all the thoughts he'd had about her. After all, she was his sister and even for Purebloods he knew it was wrong. But then every night, when he'd close his curtains and wrap his fingers around his cock, he'd think of red hair and freckles. He tried to tell himself he wasn't hurting anyone, that he could wank to whomever he saw fit. After all, it was called a fantasy for a reason, right?
"Ron?" Ginny repeated, slapping his stomach to get his attention. "Come on, budge over or I'll tell Hermione about what you let Lavender do to you behind the Quidditch shed." His cock twitched at that memory and he shifted uncomfortably, scowling up at his sister.
"Fine, get off my legs and you can have your three inches of bed," he said, agreeing quickly so she (hopefully) wouldn't notice the pressure growing in his trousers. "Hard to move when you've got me pinned."
"Or I could just sleep right here!" she declared, lying down flat on top of him, pressing her forehead against his.
"Ginny, no," he groaned, trying to shake his head so he would be free of the pressure of her head. "Piss off, there are two bleeding beds, you know." He was acutely aware of her breasts and her freckles and that little nose of hers that didn't seem to belong to either the Prewett or Weasley side of the family but oh her breasts especially. And now he could feel his trousers tenting and there was no way that she didn't feel that.
Her eyes went wide and then she smiled knowingly and, so help him, she giggled.
"It's not funny!" Ron protested weakly. Or at least, he tried to; her kiss cut him off.
No time to think; he'd done enough thinking for a lifetime when it came to her and now she was real and in his arm. There was a sudden flurry of motion and he had her sundress over her head and tossed aside. His large hands found purchase on the small of her back and he started sucking on her breasts, tracing the patterns of darkened skin with his tongue and teeth. He groaned as he felt her grip his hair, pressing him harder against her small chest. His hands gripped her ass, going under her knickers with no protest as he began to massage and knead her flesh.
The alcohol was telling him this was a brilliant idea and he was very inclined to agree. Ginny reached around and between them, sliding back to get at his trousers, undoing the flies and quickly freeing him. Both of them moaned as she wrapped her hand around him and he redoubled his efforts on her breasts.
"Fuck me, Ron," she whispered, squeezing him hard, letting her fist slide off the end before doing it again. He moaned and tried to fuck her fist. "I know you've always wanted to." He looked down and moved the thin fabric of her knickers aside (and oh sweet Morgana, they were wet!). He felt her fumbling with his cock before lining it up against her snatch.
"Ginny," he managed, looking up at her, not wanting to stop but knowing they shouldn't.
"Shut up," she whispered, pushing herself down onto him with a groan. "It's always been you."
He moaned and pulled her to him for a kiss, amazed at how she felt around him, how good and right it felt to be in her. He could feel her pulse around him and his own pulse inside her, her warmth gripping him.
"That wasn't it," he whispered, arms going around her waist. "It's just that I've not done this before... and I thought you'd want to know."
"Don't you worry," she said, face softening as she started to move against him. He groaned at the sensations and lifted his hips up against her.
"I'll take care of you."
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