Sleeping with Ghosts

Title: Sleeping with Ghosts

Pairing: Ron/Ginny, yes, as in incest-type relations, although Ron takes on Harry’s appearance while it’s occurring, if that makes it better. :S

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: INCEST! Hello! No reviews saying that this is gross when you read through the entire thing and probably masturbated to it. Freaks! Also, a fairly descriptive sex scene, dubious consent/possible non-consensual, meaning it is not actually clear whether or not there is consent, or whether the non-con it is part of the act! I guess it depend on how you read it. There is also oral sex and blood/pain/biting/scratching involved in this fic. I call that normal sex, but to each his own I guess. This is meant to be pretty dark stuff. If you’re all about the fluff, I don’t suggest continuing.

Avoid this fic if any of the above bothers you. I’m not here to baby-sit. Thanks.

Disclaimer: All characters are property of J.K Rowling. She is the goddess that built the playground; I’m just the kid (metaphorically) playing in it.

Summary: Post-war. Harry is gone. Ron’s a little crazy. Ginny is a wreck. They’re hiding out. Oh, and Harry was a stallion in the sack with everyone before he died. (Only half-kidding here.)


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The curtains are drawn closed tightly, and despite this fact the sun still stubbornly casts its glow in slivers through the dank and musty room, little fractions of light catching the dust in the stagnant air reminding me how dirty this place really is. I would go to her, but she seems so far away huddled tightly beneath the faded grey blankets of the bed that rests across the room. So I stay with my legs curled beneath me, waiting.

She breathes in broken patterns, her overcoming grief altering what should come so naturally. I imagine her insides feel as shattered as my own, broken and sharp, cutting holes where pieces of him used to be. Tears streak my surely dirty face. We haven’t left here for so long. I don’t know if we ever will. We’ve become as dirty and tainted as this house we have exiled ourselves to. Still I wait, she’ll need me when she wakes; she always needs me.

Dreams close in as the sun sets and my head lolls back, eyes unnaturally heavy. I’ve lost track of the days since I have slept. Time is unimportant here. Rising, I light a fire to keep the chill of the fall air from entering the room. I won’t fall asleep. “Eternal Vigilance” rings in my ears as though old Moody is standing right beside me barking it out, but unless he’s come back as a ghost, I know it’s just another memory come back to haunt me. I won’t sleep though, nonetheless. It’s my penance. I will go to my grave with my eyes wide open if I must. She’s all that matters now. Kneeling before the fire I watch her. The flames rising to life casts lively shadows against the walls that reach out to her, caressing her still form. I wonder if she’ll ever wake for more than an hour or two again. It seems as though she uses all of her energy just to stay alive.

When she stirs, I stop breathing, straining to hear, hoping to accurately judge the mood that she had awoken in this time. Her breathing is fast and shallow as she shoots upwards in bed, staring wide-eyed around the room. Her eyes fall upon mine, desperately needy eyes, filled with hurt and shock. He’s always there when she dreams. I know how terrible it must be for her to wake up only to experience the reality over and over. He’s gone. Neither of us will speak it out loud though because that would make it real.

I stride over to her in three easy steps pulling her tightly to my chest. Her brilliantly red hair shines brightly, reflecting the light of the fire. It’s the only thing that isn’t dull and washed out in this entire room. I kiss the top of her head, making soothing noises as she resists my comfort. She needs me though and this is what I must do. She hasn’t spoken a word since he left us but I know what she needs. Her fingernails claw at me wherever she can reach. Long thin lines of red left marring pale freckled skin as blood oozes to the surface, staining what little clothing we possess. She punishes me and I hold her because it’s all I can do. Her fingers are cruel, and her fists are strong for someone so small and emaciated.

Magic is flowing between us; a shimmering shroud of desire encases our bodies. I can feel it in the tension of muscles, taste it in her tears that leak from wide chocolate eyes, smell it in the light sheen of sweat that beads up and shines lightly against our strikingly similar complexions. Her hair flows in waves as she vigorously shakes her head. Pushing her back I pull out my wand, pointing at myself I undertake the transformation that has come to be second nature to me. I feel my hair grow thicker, knowing it to be black and course; my frame becomes thinner, my skin grows slightly darker, and a tingle runs through my head as I feel my facial features morphing. She shudders, closing her eyes.

My beautiful baby sister, look what I have done for you, all for you. Fingers not my own, trace up her pale thighs that only briefly resist; her short nightgown is pushed up and aside as I rest my cheek against her soft belly with reverence. Kissing gently, caressing circles in her skin, I give her what she needs. She pushes me away, pulls my hair, punishing him for leaving her. I understand, oh how I understand this all too well. He hurt me as well.

I pull her hands over her head, grasping her wrists firmly with one of my much larger hands as my other hand snakes down sliding beneath the white cotton of her panties. They are much too innocent for such an occasion, but so is she. My fingers find her pleasure easily, no longer a fumbling boy, and she shudders against my hand. I feel my cum still dripping from her. Has it been such a short time, I wonder, as my fingers plunge easily into the wetness? Her back arches up as she thrashes against me.

I easily pull off her undergarment, shoving her nightgown up farther as I settle myself between her legs. Licking my way up her pale stomach the way he used to do to me and probably her as well. With a flat tongue, I lick her nipple until it becomes pebbled and hard, then scraping gently with my teeth and sucking hard upon her as a distraction, I plunge myself into her warmth. She stretches and gives beneath me a gasp escaping her, and then a sob. Pulling her small frame into me I wrap both arms around her tightly as I continue to rock into her willing body, enjoying the feel of her nails creating moon shaped openings in my chest, egging me on. I fuck her harder, the way he always liked it, like he was trying to chase his demons away. She battles me, thrusting hips up, meeting mine, bucking, thrashing. She screams, tears leaking from her eyes as my tongue curls out to catch them all and my hand wraps around her mouth to quiet her. She stills beneath me as I continue to rock into her, forcing myself deeper into her wanting body.

It feels good, though I hate to admit it. My deceitful body loves the way her tightness feels so hot and wet around my cock. I love the little moans and whimpers that escape her full lips as I remove my hand and replace it with my own mouth, forcing her lips open and brutally kiss her. She bites my tongue and the blood flows between us. I bite at her shoulders, smearing blood from my tongue onto her throat and breasts as I kiss her anywhere I can reach.

She’s so fucking beautiful right now, sweaty and covered in my blood. Her hair clings to her forehead and she looks hatefully into my eyes. I never want this moment to end as I feel the tingling building in my spine. I push hard into her as I feel my release eminent, my breath catches as I feel my release spilling into her body. She kicks at me and pushes me away as I pull out of her and crawl down her body.

“Hold still!” I yell with my own voice, the only visage that I can not take of his. She stiffens as I force her legs wide taking on a curiously innocent expression that I remember Harry wearing often during a new experience. I push two fingers inside her, knowing she hasn’t yet cum for me. Curling my digits up inside her, I feel the sticky wetness that seeps down my hands. I latch onto her clit sucking on her hard, working my tongue quickly and eagerly over her sex. “Come for me baby.” I encourage as I go back to work, and she obliges seconds later. She flushes red from her face to her toes as I pull my fingers from her and lift them to her mouth, painting her lips with our mingled juices before kissing them away. Her head turns away with glassy eyes, my poor baby girl.

I feel Harry’s countenance leave me as I rise from the bed. She is so small lying by herself on the bed. Her nightgown still pulled-up over her breasts shows her easily visible ribcage and protruding hip bones. I kiss her sweaty forehead and go to get her something to eat, not that she will eat it.

I leave her supper on the nightstand next to her bed as I go back to sitting in the chair by the fire to watch over her. I’ll be here when she wakes again. I won’t fall asleep to dream. I do this all for her because it’s only me left to love her and I know what she needs.

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A/N: This is meant to be a one-part story. My ADHD prevents me from writing more than one chapter to almost anything. I’m just saying. Thanks for any reviews/constructive criticism though. They are always cherished.