Proof

Disclaimer: Harry Potter universe is the property of JK Rowling. I, sadly, make no money from fanfiction.


\"Just shut your gob, Ginny! Shut up!\"

Ron\'s voice broke with emotion as he bellowed at his sister, tears streaming down his freckled face while he backed away from her.

\"No I won\'t, Ron!\" Ginny shot back, her own eyes moist. \"He\'s gone and you\'ve got to accept it, Ron! This isn\'t healthy, the way you\'re going about. You\'ve got to snap out of this and live your own life! He would\'ve wanted it that way!\"

\"Shut up.\"

His voice was weaker this time and he buried his face in his hands at the precise moment the backs of his legs bumped into the edge of his mattress.

Ron\'s mattress.

It had once been Ron and Harry\'s mattress.

But it wasn\'t anymore. Now it was just Ron\'s mattress. It hadn\'t been Ron and Harry\'s mattress for some time, not since that fateful day nearly six months ago to the dahat hat Harry had been killed by Voldemort.

Hermione had been dead now for two years, killed just before they took their N.E.W.T.s while on her way back from a Hogsmeade trip.

Now Ron had no one.

\"I don\'t have anyone.\"

\"What did you say?\" Ginny hissed, crossing the room and stopping directly in front of Ron.

From the look in his eyes as he sunk to the bed, it was obvious that he hadn\'t realised he had spoken aloud.

\"N-nothing,\" he choked, wiping at his cheeks with the back of his hand and slumping down on the bed. \"Just-- just go away, Ginny. I want to be alone, okay?\"

Brown eyes flashing with anger, Ginny\'s patience left her entirely. \"NO!\" she yelled, propelling herself forward and bumping his knees apart with her hips, standing between his legs and glaring down at him. \"I\'m not letting you alone, not when you\'re being an absolute self-pitying sod like you are! He\'s dead! She\'s dead! They\'re both dead but you\'re still alive, Ron! Don\'t you get that?\"

Placing his hands on the duvets palm flat, he leaned back slightly and looked up at her with round eyes. Another fat tear rolled down his cheek as he regarded her. Whispering hoarsely, he responded, \"Maybe I\'d rather be--\"

He couldn\'t finish telling his sister just what he\'d rather be because suddenly her lips had descended upon his own. His eyes widened even further and his hands flailed, settling on her shoulders. His fingers flexed against her and he started to push her away.

Pulling her mouth away from Ron\'s, Ginny growled, \"Oh no you don\'t, Ronald Weasley. You\'re still alive and I\'m going to prove it to you.\"

Staring up at his sister blankly, a brief look of panic glazed his eyes and then he nodded, understanding plain on his face.

Before he could say a word, Ginny\'s mouth latched onto his again, pressing her lips with force upon his own, forcing his mouth to open under hers. Her tongue flicked briefly at his lower lip and then delved into the warm crevice of his mouth. He tasted of tears and Odgen’s Old Firewhiskey and suddenly this wasn’t just about needing to prove to Ron that he was still alive. Groaning into his mouth, she ground herself against him, placing own own hands on his shoulders and pushed him down on the mattress.

Forbidden.

That’s what this was but Ginny found that she didn’t give a damn.

She had always been the one to play by the rules, to leave the room when asked, to back down when it was socially polite to do so.

No more.

Ginny was tired. She was tired of playing by the rules, of leaving, of backing down.

She was tired of it all and she would be damned if she backed out on this now.

And by the way Ron’s hands were suddenly tangled in her hair and his tongue was moving against hers, it was very clear that Ron was tired of things as well.

Kissing him deeply with her hands firmly on his shoulders, Ginny shifted her weight and straddled him. The feel of him so close but not close enough was maddening. Needing some sort of release, she sucked on his tongue roughly and rolled her pelvis. As she rocked her hips against his, Ron moaned against her mouth and the sound reverberated into hers, causing her to whimper in response.

Ginny didn’t like hearing that noise coming from herself. It sounded weak and she wasn’t weak. If anyone was weak here, it was Ron. He was weak and she would play off of that weakness. After all, this wasn’t just about proving to Ron that he was alive anymore. If Ginny was honest with herself (and she liked to think that she was), she would admit that this was also about her finally taking hold of her strength and using it to get what she wanted. And what she wanted right now was to have the things that Harry Potter had had. She could no longer work on bettering her relationship with Hermione as Hermione was long-gone but, by Merlin, Ron was still here and she would have him if it was the last thing she did. She would have him as Harry did and she was fully prepared to fuck him senseless for days on end until he would call out her name using that voice she’d heard call out Harry’s one more than one occasion in the middle of the night at the Burrow. Oh, they’d thought they were so sneaky with their relationship during school holidays but Ginny knew better. She knew better and she used to sit outside Ron’s room at half-two in the morning listening to them fuck. She would listen and cry and hate and vow to take back what Harry Potter had stolen from her. He’d saved her during her first year at Hogwarts and then conveniently forgotten that she existed. Now he didn’t exist and Ginny was going to make Ron forget, even if it was just for one night, about him.

Tearing her mouth away from his, Ginny stared down hard at him, taking in the way a delicate red was creeping up in his cheeks and his chest heaving with laboured breathing. In that moment, Ginny felt as though she could be staring into a mirror. Had her own cheeks begun to flush like that? Were her own eyes full of fear and anticipation and desire like Ron’s?

Desire.

He held desire in his eyes. Desire for what, Ginny did not know. A desire for her? A desire to forget? A desire for escape?

“It doesn’t matter,” Ginny said thickly, lifting her hands from his shoulders reaching up to cover the ones he’d twisted about in her hair.

Giving her a conflicted look, Ron asked hoarsely, “What doesn’t?”

Wrenching his hands from her hair roughly and then pinning them above his head, she spat, “Shut up,. J. Just shut up.” Tightening the grip she had on his wrists, Ginny then buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the warm scent of him. He was arching and bucking beneath her as her lips brushed the column of his throat. Through the denim of his trousers, she could feel his erection straining against her thigh and a slow, smug smile curled the corners of her mouth upward. Removing one hand from his wrists, she deftly slid it under the hem of his jumper, fingertips dancing up over his ribcage before reaching a nipple. While pinching the nipple and rolling it between two digits, her tongue laved across a patch of skin on his throat, followed quickly by her teeth. Marking his skin with her teeth, her mouth created a vacuum pressure against him and it was all she could do not to chuckle as he arched nearly completely off of the mattress and made a noise that was something between a grunt and a scream.

Lifting her head up to regard him, fingers having moved from one nipple to the next, she asked lazily, “Liked that, did you?”

Likely taking her advice to shut up, Ron simply nodded in return.

“I knew you would,” she continued, releasing his wrists. “We’ve always known just what the other has liked, haven’t we Ron? Ever since we were little… we’ve always known. And don’t you worry; I’m not going to do anything you won’t like.” Satisfied that he made no motion to move his hands from where she had placed them, Ginny gathered the hem of his jumper in both hands and took her time divesting him of it, revealing bit by bit of skin at a time, kissing and dragging her tongue against his warm flesh as it became exposed.

Sitting up, tossing his jumper to the floor carelessly, her fingers began to work open the button and zipper on his trousers. She paused in her actions only when she realised that one of Ron’s hands had come to rest on her forearm. Giving h bri brief, predatory smile, Ginny resumed her task, perhaps a bit too vigorously as the button popped off of the trousers and landed on the floor with a clatter. Ron’s fingers were now wrapped around her wrist and she tipped her face to look at him.

“What is it, Ron?” she asked huskily, the fingers of her free hand inching underneath the elastic waistband of his boxers. For a brief moment, she felt something like an ache in her chest. Was this right? Should she be using her brother to get back at Harry? Was that what she was doing? Getting revenge?

Obviously still abiding by her earlier words, Ron said nothing but just shortly nodded his consent to her, thumb brushing against the soft underside of her wrist before relenting his hold on her. Ginny softened, moving over his body and pressing her lips to his, sighing contentedly as his mouth opened to hers. Their teeth clacked together and they both laughed, Ron’s hands running up and down her sides while Ginny kissed the laughter right out of them.

Revenge? Perhaps there was more to it than revenge. Perhaps there was a need – on both their parts – to be satiated.

Murmuring against his lips, Ginny warned, “I told you to shut up,” although the edge in her voice from earlier had faded considerably. Again, Ron said nothing but merely turned his hands in toward her chest and cupped her breasts, kneading her through the fabric of her blouse and bra.

“That’s better,” she said approvingly, kissing her way down his chest while her hands tugged his trousers and boxer shorts over his hips. Pausing only to swirl her tongue in his navel (and laugh softly against his skin when he automatically gasped and arched up against her), she trailed her fingertips along the insides of Ron’s thighs while placing a kiss upon the curly nest of hair right above his cock. It twitched in response and Ginny wrapped a hand around the base, chastising him softly. “Patience, Ron. I told you I won’t do anything you won’t like. Just trust me.” Squeezing him once for effect, sheed wed with a wicked grin, “You do trust me, don’t you?”

Ron made a little noise that sounded like “mrfle” and Ginny took that to mean “Yes, I trust you.” Licking her lips, she shot him a coquettish wink and then took his length in her mouth. Sucking and licking and raking her teeth over him, Ginny thought her head just might implode when Ron’s hands grabbed at her hair, pulling him toward him. Humming low in her throat, she pulled back and blew lightly on his cock and fondled his testicles, pleased at the response it elicited from Ron. He was beginning to shake now and Ginny knew he was at the edge. Raising her hand, she slapped at the hardness of his cock and that was the end of it. Ron cursed and arched up into her once more. Fingers digging into his hips as he emptied himself into her, she waited until his trembling had subsided and released his cock with a soft pop of her mouth, resting her cheek on his hip until they both could collect themselves.

His hands were not so rough on her now, fingers gently combing through her hair. Ginny raised her head, shaking his hands off, and began to work at the fastenings of her blouse when it happened.

Ron propped himself up and took hold of her by the shoulders, drawing her to him roughly. Before a gasp even had the chance to spill past her lips, Ron had slammed his mouth against hers, teeth biting her lower lip. Stunned, Ginny did not react until his hands were suddenly inside her blouse and had shoved her bra up so that her breasts were exposed. She had just begun to move her lips slowly against his when he pulled back, groped at a breast with one skilful hand while suckling the other.

“Oh Merlin,” she whispered, head falling back in near-ecstasy.

“Ginny,” Ron moaned against her breast, teeth tugging on her nipple.

She froze, unsure of if she actually heard him say it or if she was imagining things.

He said it again, more throatily this time and Ginny knew that she hadn’t misheard.

Ron had called out her name like he had used to Harry’s.

Warm tears began to spill down her cheeks unexpectedly and she righted herself, pressing her face against Ron’s shoulder. She could feel him stiffen against her for a second before he realised what was going on. His arms enveloped her, nothing so much as a question as to why she was suddenly crying on his lips.

We’ve always known just what the other has liked, haven’t we Ron? Ever since we were little… we’ve always known.

Her earlier words echoed now in her mind and she swallowed hard, clinging to her brother with all her might.

She had set out to prove to Ron that he was still alive. She hadn’t expected that the tables would have been inadvertently turned on her in the process.