As far back as Ron could remember, he’d thought of Ginny as his . She had belonged to him in the same way that Charlie belonged to Bill, or Fred and George belonged to each other. Of course, all of Ginny’s big brothers were protective of their baby sister, but Ron had been the one to be there for her while the others went off to school and later more exotic climes. He had been her protector and her playmate from the day she was born. To Ron, Ginny had been just another brother until he learned the difference between boys and girls. At the age of three, he’d been puzzled by the fact that she had no willie — of course, Fred and George had determined that she’d been born tragically disfigured. Luckily, their mother had overheard the conversation and tactfully explained the difference between “boy-bits” and “girl-bits”. Later games of Healer between Ron and Ginny had let him discover the details for himself. Healer wasn’t the only game they’d played, of course. Ron had dutifully consented to play House with Ginny, taking on the role of husband to Ginny’s wife. They usually wound up mimicking their parents: kissing, holding hands and cuddling while taking care of a family of seven “children” (an ever-changing cast of teddy bears and other soft toys). Occasionally, they’d tried to make babies the way Fred and George had explained it, with Ron lying on top of Ginny, the two of them wriggling around for a few minutes. Of course, it had never worked. However, that part of the game had ended the day their mum had caught them at it, and promptly gone into an inexplicable fury. She’d sent both Ron and Ginny to their respective rooms without dinner, demanding they never do such naughty things again. Upon discovering who had given her precious (and innocent) little lambs the information, she’d made certain neither Fred nor George could sit down for an entire week. It had taken Ron years to suss out exactly why his mother had reacted so strongly. Eventually, Ron and Ginny had become too old for that sort of play, turning their attention to Quidditch and tree climbing and other rough and tumble pursuits. Ginny wasn’t like most girls her age, preferring mud puddles to dolls, torn jeans to frocks. With Bill and Charlie off at Hogwarts, Percy, and the Twins wrapped up in their own respective worlds, Ginny became Ron’s closest and dearest ally. Circumstances changed dramatically once Ron went off to school. His friendships with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, and their fight against He Who Must Not Be Named began to dominate his life. Ron was reluctant to share his new friends with his kid sister, especially after she showed signs of fancying Harry. Ron definitely didn’t like the thought of that one bit. He also didn’t want Ginny involved in anything related to the Dark Lord; she needed to be safeguarded from all things dark and dangerous. Ginny, of course, had other plans. Over the next few years, his sister integrated herself into Ron’s social life, getting along famously with his friends. Sometimes, Ron thought, she got on with them a bit too well. He couldn’t have explained why if anyone had asked, but it irked him to see Ginny with his mates, especially the other boys in his dorm: Seamus, Neville, Dean, Harry . He didn’t mind her friendship with Hermione at all — that was different somehow. But seeing her talking, giggling, flirting with his dorm mates at every given opportunity, seeing them flirting back and looking at her like that , made him want to whack them repeatedly with a Beater’s bat until they left his little sister alone. She was his , and the last thing Ron wanted was a bunch of randy, hormonal teenage boys ogling her or thinking about her. Especially when he had to live with them night and day. It was just brotherly concern, he assured himself over and over. At least until one day, when Ron came to the realisation Escort Anadolu yakası that it might be something more. Ron came into the Gryffindor boys’ dorm, bone tired and muddy. Quidditch practise had run late, and Harry had worked the new team long and hard. Exhausted, Ron flopped on his bed, still in his muddy uniform, unable to move. “So, what’s she like?” Ron heard Seamus ask as he presumably entered the room. “None of your bloody business,” Dean replied testily. There was the sound of his school bag hitting his mattress. “Oh, come on, mate,” Seamus urged. “I’m your best friend. You’ve got to tell me all about her.” She had to be Ginny, Ron realised. She had been dating Dean since sometime last summer. Ron wasn’t crazy about the idea. In his mind, Dean was a slick git, but then again, no one he knew was good enough for his sister. Taking the utmost care, Ron shifted, hoping to remain obscured by the red velvet curtains surrounding his bed. “Seamus…” “She’s got great tits, hasn’t she?” Seamus continued, oblivious to Dean’s warning tone. “Has she let you touch her up yet? What do they feel like? Lavender once let me—” “A gentleman never kisses and tells. Or,” Dean let out a low, throaty chuckle, “touches and tells for that matter.” Ron could practically hear Seamus’s eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “Brilliant!” There was a momentary pause before Seamus added, “So, has she let you go any further, then? Given you a bit of finger pie? Is she a screamer? I bet she is…” Ron began to seethe; he could feel his ears starting to burn. It took all his resolve to stay where he was hidden rather than coming out swinging. “Not talking, mate,” Dean repeated. “Besides, I know anything I tell you will just be used to help you toss off later tonight. And you don’t need any more motivation, if you ask me.” “Oi!” Seamus exclaimed. Dean snorted. “C’mon. We’ve got to get to the library and get that Transfiguration essay done. Besides, if Ron catches you talking about his sister like this, you’re a dead man.” “Heh. I’m not afraid of him,” insisted Seamus. Balling his fists, Ron considered giving Seamus plenty of reason to be — but at that point, the other two boys shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind them. He lay there, waiting until he was certain they were gone before he made any attempt to move. Disgusted with his crass dorm mates, Ron shook his head and stomped off to the Prefect’s bath, intent on cleaning up. Perhaps a good soak would soothe away his anger. He muttered the password, flinging the door open as it unlocked, then slammed it shut with a loud ‘bang’. Locking the door with a quick spell, Ron stripped off his filthy clothes and then got into the large tub, ignoring the giggles and stares from the Mermaid portrait which hung on the wall above. The sensation of steaming, soapy water against his skin did work to calm him down considerably, but he still couldn’t get Seamus’s words out of his head. “Great tits! Finger pie! Bet she’s a screamer!” Ron flushed, and not just because he was up to his neck in scalding hot water. He was well aware of Ginny’s breasts — it was rather hard to ignore them given their prominence on her petite frame, especially when she wore tight, form fitting Quidditch tunics. For a moment, he wondered how they’d feel in his hands, how well they’d fill them… He shook the thought off. This was his sister , not some tart in one of Seamus’s dirty mags. Still, he couldn’t get the picture of Ginny’s bare breasts out of his mind, considered what it would be like to touch them, to fondle them, to suck on them until she squirmed and cried and sighed in delight. Ron could feel his cock springing to life as he tried to make himself stop thinking about them. He failed miserably. Down deep, he knew how wrong it was to even consider Kurtköy escort Ginny in that light, but he couldn’t help himself. His cock ached as it bobbed against his bare belly; he wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft and began to stroke. * * * It had been two years since the War had ended, two long and eventful years. The long nightmare of the Dark Lord’s reign was over, and Ron’s whole world had changed. He had realised his lifelong dream to become an Auror, working with Harry to clean up the entire Department at Kingsley Shacklebolt’s request. He lived alone in a cozy flat off of Diagon Alley, and overall, his life was quite content. Except for his love life, or lack thereof. That was a complete and utter shambles. Try as Ron might, relationships were things that eluded him. He and Hermione had made a brave attempt to get together, but in the end, it had fallen apart. Hermione had gone back to Hogwarts after their arduous year of Horcrux hunting, and within months, things had gone completely pear-shaped between them. Hermione got involved with Neville Longbottom, who’d proven himself to be quite the hero while they’d been gone, and Ron found himself happy for her. At least they’d remained friends, in spite of everything. Ron had made vague and fruitless attempts at dating after that, but none of the women he went out with seemed to be his type. And when he was alone, he found himself thinking about a petite girl with long red hair, dark brown eyes and freckles. A girl who looked just like his little sister. A girl who was his little sister. He could never have admitted that to Hermione — or anyone else — that he’d missed Ginny far more than anyone else during their year long quest, or while she was away for her last year of school. It was even further complicated by the fact that Ginny was involved with his best mate in the whole wide world, and he had to pretend to be thrilled for the pair of them when in actuality, it was tearing him apart. At least Harry had the wherewithal to be discreet about his sex life with Ginny. That would have been more than Ron could have borne. Ron settled on his sofa, perusing The Daily Prophet for the day’s Quidditch scores. To his dismay, his beloved Chudley Cannons were still in the bottom of the League, having been summarily trounced by Falmouth yet again. He groaned with frustration. It didn’t matter that he knew the Cannons were a crap team; somehow, he still held out hope that some day, they would emerge victorious. A gentle rapping at his window distracted him from the Sport page and the disappointing scores. Ron looked up to see a familiar owl standing on the windowsill, its beak hitting the streaky pane in a staccato rhythm. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, throwing the paper on top of the coffee table and heading to let the bird in. Ginny’s brown and grey barn owl looked about as thrilled to see him as he was to see it. Which was to say not at all. The owl hooted in annoyance as Ron grabbed it and pulled it into the flat, nipping at him as he tugged at the roll of parchment tied to its leg. “Oi!” he exclaimed; the bite was superficial, but it stung. He couldn’t imagine what his sister could possibly want from him at this time of night. Perhaps she wanted to gloat about the Cannons, especially when the Harpies were due to play them later in the week. A Harpies win would relegate the Cannons to dead last for the rest of the season. It would be just like Ginny to take the piss over something like that, especially now that she’d landed a position as the Harpies’ newest Chaser straight out of school. To Ron’s surprise, the note had nothing to do with Quidditch in the least. In Ginny’s neat handwriting, it read: Ron,Are you free tonight? I really need to talk to someone. Please let me know if you’re around.—Ginny xx “Huh,” Maltepe escort bayan he said, staring at the note, puzzled. The owl clacked its beak in expectation, causing Ron to scowl. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going to answer. And no, I haven’t got any treats for you.” He ran and found a working quill, hastily scribbling a reply before attaching it to the owl. He pitched the bird out the window, then set about tidying up the flat before Ginny came round, hoping to make it presentable before she arrived. * She was there within the hour. Her hair was mussed, her eyes swollen, and her nose red. Even Ron, who Hermione had once proclaimed had “the emotional range of a teaspoon,” could tell that his sister was extremely unhappy. “Hey, Gin,” he said as he ushered her into the flat. “What’s wrong?” Ginny worried at her lower lip, inhaling deeply. Ron could see tears welling up in her eyes as she looked up at him. She let out a breath, then murmured, “It’s Harry.” “Harry?” he echoed. “Has something happened to him?” Come to think of it, his friend had been acting a bit odd lately, seeming a bit distant and preoccupied whenever Ron ran into him at the Auror’s department. Ron had just written it off as Harry being overly involved in a case, as he was wont to do, but now his friend’s behaviour seemed suspicious in retrospect. Sniffling, Ginny shook her head. “He…,” she angrily wiped a stray tear away with the back of her hand. “He…I…we broke up tonight.” “You what?” “Harry said he needed his space,” Ginny sneered. “That as much as he cared about me, he realised he was only twenty years old, that he’d hardly dated anyone, and that he didn’t want to rush into anything with the first person he’d got serious about.” Ron stared at his sister in disbelief, trying to remember if he’d heard about Harry being hit by a particularly strong Stunning Spell or a rogue Bludger. “Harry said all that?” “H-he did,” Ginny replied. “And then I hit him with a Bat Bogey Hex. A big one. He’ll be leaking snot for days.” The corners of her mouth curled up into a slight smile. “From every orifice imaginable.” Ron made a mental note to give Harry wide berth until further notice. “Sounds like he deserved it, good and proper.” Ginny nodded, her smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. “He deserved a lot more than that. He’s lucky I didn’t turn him into a Puffskein and use him as a Bludger… after all the time we’ve been together, after everything we’ve been through, he just…just…!” She let out a roar of frustration. “How could he do this to me? Are all men this thick when it comes to relationships?!” “Erm…” Ron didn’t think he was the best person to answer that question. Luckily, Ginny didn’t wait for an answer; she stormed around the room, still ranting. “Do you know how much time I spent waiting for him to come back? A whole bloody year! Did he honestly think that pretending I didn’t exist was going to make the Death Eaters forget we were together before then? Or bloody Malfoy for that matter?” “I don’t think he actually—” “I took him back after that, Ron. I did! Even after he treated me like some sort of ridiculous fairy princess during the final battle — as if I couldn’t fight too! He was worse than Mum, but did I say anything? Of course not!” Ginny fumed. “Instead, I took him back and never said a damn word. Because I loved him and I thought…I thought…” Suddenly the fight was out of her. She looked at Ron, defeated. “Oh, Ron, I can’t believe he—” she choked back a sob, her fists tightening as she clutched at herself. He flew to her side, draping an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t cry, Gin. He’s not worth it.” “I-I know,” she replied, although she didn’t sound very convinced. “Here, let’s go into the kitchen for a cuppa.” A cup of tea was his mother’s cure-all for everything and anything wrong in the world. It was as good a time as any to see if it really worked. Without waiting for a response, Ron led his sister into the tiny, cramped kitchen, letting her sit in a creaky wooden chair while he heated the kettle and found a tin of tea. As he set about getting down a pair of clean cups, he heard Ginny weeping softly. He turned around…