The Waterhole

Author's Note: So, here is my Ron/Ginny fanfic. It isn't finished yet, but I think it's about halfway done. I'm trying to make it not too many chapters.

I admit that I step into the world of incest with some hesitancy and nervousness. I didn't think I'd be into it, but then I do think both Ron and Ginny have hot potential, and some fics I've seen with this pairing intrigued me. So, I just had to write my own. :)

IF YOU DON'T LIKE WEASLEYCEST, CLICK THE BACK BUTTON NOW! This is a Ron/Ginny fanfic!

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THE WATERHOLE
A Ron/Ginny fanfic

by

lordoberon


Ronald Weasley was addicted to looking at his sister's body.

For a while, he didn't realize it.

It wasn't the red hair that drove Ron crazy. That, he saw every day on his own head, on the heads of all his other family members. It wasn't the freckles, or the nose, though the nose was cute. It wasn't those wide beautiful blue eyes, though they were that. It took Ron a very long time to figure out WHAT it was, because everything else was just fine. But it, IT, drove him crazy.

It started with her legs. She had grown over the years, and now at fifteen, her legs were very long. And when she wore those shorts, and waved those legs, it caught his attention. They were slim slender legs, but also strong from Quidditch practice. That summer was when it began. She had been sitting up in a tree, and Ron had found her. They had been playing tag with the brooms, but she had crashed into the tree, managing to not hurt herself. Those long legs waved at him as she called, "Come get me! You have to touch me, if you expect this to count."

As he climbed higher in the tree, she did, too. That round butt swayed over those long legs, and Ron thought, what am I doing thinking about my sister's butt?

He ended up catching her by coming up behind her as she stood on a branch. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he lifted her up. She was screaming, laughing, flapping her arms to try and get away. He could feel that butt bouncing against him, as he tried to get a better hold on her squirming body enough to haul her down to the ground. His arms slipped up as she squirmed, and for a moment, her breasts, soft and round and full, were against his arms. The undersides were so perfect and round.

He tried to stop looking at her like that. He went to the store down the road, and paged through dirty magazines. He read them in his bed at night, and wanked off to them.

But they weren't her.

It got worse, as he started to notice more about her. The legs had drawn him in, and having her in his arms had made it worse. But what was it that made him addicted to watching her?

It was the way Ginny moved. He knew that she didn't realize it, but the way she moved was an intoxicating sway. Those hips went back and forth in front of him when he walked up the stairs behind her. That hand lay itself gracefully against her cheek as she pored over a grocery list. Those breasts bounced as she jumped for joy when she received a new broom for her fifteenth birthday, instead of a hand-me-down.

Looking at Ginny became an addiction. The little girl that he had played with and teased as he grew into his own youth had become a young woman. Her torso dove inward into a lovely curve, and then the hips flared outward, just a little. Her legs were long. Those breasts were growing, and when she was sleepy in the morning and her shirt was lopsided, he could see the little peaks of erect nipples, or cleavage, and when she bent down he had to tell himself, 'Don't stare at her ass.'

When she cleaned the house one day and he arrived back from a friend's house early, he watched her from the stairway as she danced to loud music. That butt, that was always so hard to not look at, was bouncing around the room. He wanted to grab it, and...and what? What would he do with his sister? He couldn't....touch her. Not like that. It was wrong. It was so wrong.

But Merlin! How he wanted to. He wanted to run his fingers through that hair, which she had let grow and now was nearly down to her waist. He wanted to squeeze that shaking ass, and hold her body against his. He wanted to see those breasts that teased him every morning, and every time she wore a swimsuit. He wanted to put his tongue on her and lick her every where, in every secret, forbidden place. He even wanted to hear her moan his name, even though that was perhaps the most wrong of all.

She who had called his name for help, who had hollered his name in tears and anger as a child, she was the one that he wanted to moan his name, to pant it out as she was overtaken by desire. It was her, only her. Not Hermione. Not Fleur Delacour, or any number of hot or older girls at Hogwarts. No, it was Ginny Weasley, his dear little sister, that he wanted so badly to fulfill the it, his lust.

* * *

Ron Weasley was smart enough to devise some plan to capture Ginny. Some people maybe thought he wasn't, but oh, he was. Ron Could be very stubborn when he wanted something, and he wanted Ginny very much.

It wasn't stupidity that got in the way of making a plan. It was conscience. Every time Ron started to think, "What if..." his guilty heart thumped loudly to remind him how wrong his "what if" had been. To even think a "what if" was wrong, what to speak of conspiring a whole plan for how to seduce his sister.

So Ron continued to watch, to secretly lust as he watched her, the secret growing inside him. Sometimes he had to turn away, and even thinking of Snape naked and writhing with McGonagall, or of Harry flogging the Fat Lady's bare arse, wouldn't make the itch of arousal go away.

So Ron took to being by himself, away from Ginny, away from his family members where guilt and lust would battle within him. He took to long walks each evening before dinner, at dusk when the sun was going down. On the way back with an old lantern (his mother liked the old lantern - it was a family heirloom, and the flashlights had all been stolen by his dad) he would wander back home, up the dirt road, and the cool night would soothe him.

It was on the way down that same road that he would walk, fast and steady but not quite a jog or a run. This was when he would be incensed, and either try to get his rocks off some other way, or simply find some way to find peace.

It was thus on such a run that Ron found the waterhole. It was a waterhole, simply that, buried amongst the trees by the roadside, sheltered from view by shrubbery, a couple fallen dead trees, and a particularly obnoxious, spiky pine.

The waterhole felt...different. Private. It wasn't like the big lake out back in what the Weasleys called their "back yard" though technically it wasn't theirs. The lake was a dirty, messy sort of thing, huge enough that it was good exercise to swim across it, but small enough that when all seven Weasley children were in it, one resented its size.

The waterhole was clean, the water a smooth, clear surface. Ron couldn't see the bottom of it, but when he slid his shirt off and dived in one day, he found it wasn't very deep.

No, it was only about ten feet deep. And the thing was small, not very good for swimming in, definitely no laps. It was more like a gigantic, cold bath.

But Ron liked it. So he started to use it. He would bring his fishing things out (the only time he ever used that ill-received tenth birthday gift from his father) and fish. Or, he would bring out summer homework, or his letter-writing utensils, or maybe a ball to throw or a Quidditch magazine to flip through.

Most of all though, Ron just brought himself. And he would lay down in the dusk, and look up into the sky at the trees. He even got to smoking a little, a bad habit his mother would absolutely despise, but he found it soothed his nerves. Ron liked to be healthy, and he knew smoking was not. Sean had caught him onto it, and Ron just couldn't let go of having the occasional taste.

The best part was when night was almost upon him. Ron would sit up from his blanket and his reading, or his simple brooding (and not over Ginny, his rule was to not think of her on these walks). And he would get up and stretch, and then strip. It was with a sigh that he let his naked body slide into the waterhole's cool embrace.

It was on one such occasion that something, for once, happened differently. He was lying out on his old ratty picnic blanket, with the lamp doused and the sun nearly gone over the hills. He hadn't yet put his clothes back on, because the night breeze felt good all over. His magazine collection sat untouched, because he had been distracted by thinking about how to answer Hermione's letter. She had sensed someone even in his letters, with her intuitive Hermione sense, that something was off. That something was bothering him.

After a minute of that, though, Ron started getting a headache and turned to thinking about a recent Quidditch match he'd read about, instead.

He had heard in the distance hollering noises, and for a couple seconds during his cold bath he'd wondered, what was going on? Who was it? What if it was his family members? They knew he was walking about so they wouldn't be hollering for him, right? The next unusual thing had been a loud rustling of bushes behind him, but Ron had assumed it was the wind.

But now he'd forgotten about that, and was just imagining the way Walton had hit the Bludger, described as, "With a cadswalloping hit that thundered through the arena." All of a sudden, Ron felt a cadswalloping hit himself, for the rustling bushes behind him became a frenzied panting, and then a body smacked down onto him and then tumbled, quite ungracefully, headfirst into the water hole.

"What the bloody hell...?"

Ron sat up as the figure splashed water for a second and he saw a pair of small feet, and then a familiar person emerged from the water. The person crawled up onto the bank and then fell, again most ungracefully, to flop onto the blanket next to Ron.

"Ginny!" The two of them stared at each other for a moment. Her eyes were wide in surprise as were his.

Then he saw her eyes drop down to look all over him, and he remembered he was naked. Quickly Ron grabbed a magazine and slammed it over his thighs with a smack. He saw the way she smirked as she kept looking there. What was she looking at?! Why...oh! It was one of his dirty mags with some saucy witch posing naughtily on the cover.

Ron could feel his face getting red as a beet. He snagged a clean magazine, some Quidditch thing (it was his favorite he'd been reading for years, but at the moment he couldn't remember for the life of him what it was called). He replaced the dirty mag with the Quidditch one, and then looked back up at Ginny.

There was a big gaping hole in the knee of her jeans and he could see blood flowing from it, and her white shirt...Ron gulped. Her white shirt was now all wet and transparent. He could see the light blue of her bra and its rosy embroidery.

It was one of those fancy ones that Hermione must have given her for her birthday last year; he remembered the two of them giggling over it before flashing the package to the twins briefly, to stay their curious questioning. The roses complimented Ginny's cleavage quite nicely, he thought, and he liked how the blue contrasted with her long red hair...

Ginny was cold, understandably so with the chill night breeze and her having just dunked her whole body in water...Her hair was a soggy mess now, and Ron tried not to watch how rivulets of water slid down her neck to wet her cleavage, to kiss those heaving breasts...

He wanted to kiss them, too...Ron sat up straight as he realized what he was thinking about. Oh, no! Ginny was looking at him now with a smirk still on her face, and the smirk was even more alluring. It made him mad to see it, because seeing it made him want her even more. Why did she have to be here, like this, right now, and wearing that godawful smirk?!

"G-Ginny! T-Turn around."

He watched her head turn away as she lay down on the blanket on her back, and threw an arm over her eyes. As he looked around for his clothes, she said, "Your shorts are over there, Ron, to your right. And your trousers are behind you."

He blushed redder still and grabbed both, shoving them on as quick as he could. His whole body felt shaky and flustered, and he was lucky those magazines had been hiding him, or Ginny would've seen...his reaction to thinking about her like that.

"Stop smirking!"

Ginny laughed, and lifted her arm up to look at him as she laughed him in the face. Ron was trying to get a good fingerhold on the zipper, but his fingers were all clammy. "Hey! Don't peek! Move that arm back!"

She had a big smile on her face now. With an "oof" she rolled onto her stomach, swinging her hair back out of the way to land on her back with a wet smack. Somehow that smacking sound was appealing. He could see the back of her bra and the mole above her right shoulderblade, and now she was getting blood on his blanket from her knee...great.

"Ron, it's not like I haven't seen you naked before."

He growled as he thumbed the button in and pulled his shirt on. Through the cotton of the orange cloth he grumbled, "Yeah, but that was when we were little kids. Now I'm...l-like this, and you're...you're...! So, so..."

His head popped through the neckhole and he glared at her. Ginny giggled, and stood up to help him reverse the shirt so that the front was on the front of him, and put his hands through the armholes. He shoved his arms through and adjusted the shirt, and made sure he'd zipped the fly all the way up on his trousers.

"Well, Ron..."

And here she got another mischevious look on her face. Ron stared at her. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "You can never take a hint, Ron. My point is, I've seen you naked recently, and there's nothing I haven't seen before. I mean, nothing to be embarassed about. You're my brother."

What did that mean? 'Recently' must mean just now, right? But the rest...nothing she hadn't seen before? Did that mean he was unimpressive, or that she'd seen other naked guys? Ron wasn't sure which of the two he disliked more. Should 'nothing to be embarassed' about be considered a compliment to his size? Ron thought he was quite sizeable. And 'you're my brother,' thanks for the reminder, Ginny.

After saying that, she blushed, and Ron felt a cold sliver of doom creep down his back. He was SUCH a goner with her here like this! With all those smiles and blushes and her nipples all perked up just begging to be...

With a gasp Ron cut off his train of thought and turned around, wringing his hands together.

"What is it, Ron?"

He took a few moments to take some calming breaths and resolved that from now on, until she left the clearing, he would look no lower than her neck. No, make that her chin. No, her ears! That way he wouldn't even consider kissing her. He would just look at her eyes and nod his head or something.

Ron turned back around and smiled what he hoped was a perfectly normal, calm smile. "Nothing, I'm fine. I just...I started thinking that maybe you were talking about guys you'd seen naked, and that's just gross! Besides, Ginny, you're only sixteen, what are you doing seeing naked blokes?"

Those thin eyebrows slanted down and Ginny's eyes seemed to burn a fiercer blue in anger. "Ron! That's not what I meant, you idiot! Besides, why does it matter if I've seen guys naked, look at you sitting here with all these dirty mags."

He opened his mouth to retort but she mushed his lips closed with two fingers, hissing, "And don't even say 'it's different, Ginny,' because it is NOT! You can look at your dirty mags and I can look at mine, alright."

She blushed furiously red again, and Ron's eyes widened. Oh, my, as his mother would say. My oh my. Ginny...looking at...dirty mags of her own? Sitting on her bed...touching...trying to be quiet so no one would hear...Ron closed his eyes shut tight to blank out the image of Ginny masturbating from his head (but he would save it for later). He opened them and saw Ginny smiling at him (there he'd gone and done it, broken his vow and looked at her whole face).

"You look like a duck!" she shrieked, and pressed his lips more with her fingers to moosh them out in front of him.

Ron smacked her hand away and rubbed his lips furiously. "OW! Ow!"

The girl collapsed into laughter on the blanket, rolling and laughing until she had to sit up, coughing, and gulp in breaths of air.

Ron squatted down on the ground beside her and winced as a briar stabbed at his arches. Where were his shoes? Mum always said he should wear socks but he never brought them. Socks were annoying sometimes, even if his common sense said he should bring them when gallivanting out in the woods.

"Why are you here anyway, Ginny? You were running and hit me and..." he gestured helplessly at her. She was drying now.

"Oh!" She looked up from her finished braid and flung it over one shoulder. "I was playing Marco Polo with Fred and George."

"Marco Polo? That's a water game. What's wrong with the lake? And why run?"

"Well...the lake's all grubby and nasty until dad cleans it out tomorrow like mum keeps yelling at him to do. It takes so many spells to do it, and I decided to be all goody and not break the Hogwarts rules. So, we decided to play it outside. And we had to play it before dinner. It sortof became hide and seek and tag, too...a combination."

Ron raised a brow at her, and then sighed. "Only Fred and George..."

Ginny smiled, saying, "...would make up a game instead of playing it the real way. You're probably going to ask next why we were playing games in a kid fashion instead of doing something else, right? Since you're Mister Correct here, sitting all cozy with your mags and nakedness."

Ron sat down on the blanket, frowning at the briar that had now dug itself into the skin of his foot. "Hey! I'm not always naked, and sometimes I bring homework or letters. Or Quidditch mags. So don't go bashing me. Besides, if you tell, I'll tell about your dirty mags. I bet you hide them under the mattress, right?"

Ginny gave him a lofty look and that bedamned smirk again. "No. That would be stupid and obvious. I hide them somewhere else. I bet that's where you hide yours though, right?"

Damn. She'd caught him. But he pretended to be focusing on the briar more, pinching it now between two fingers and pulling hard. "...No. I'm much more clever. Mine aren't even in my room at all!"

"Oho, really? Where then? Here? Where all the bugs can nibble at them?"

He shook his head, and then swore. His finger was bleeding now and he shook it vigorously in the air, but the air only made it hurt more. It was a deep cut. "Oww."

Finally he slid back and down, over so that he could dunk his finger in the cold of the water hole. "Ahh..."

Ron lifted his head up as suddenly cold fingers slid over his navel. "What?"

"Are you still ticklish, Ron?"

"What-? Hey! NO! No, I'm not!"

When he was little, he used to be really ticklish, and the other Weasleys would play games of "Tickle Ickle Ronniekins" and corner him, to then bombard him with tickles.

"Ginny!" he shrieked, his voice as high as a girl's, as his sister's hands slid under his shirt. He WAS still ticklish, but scarier still than the prospect of getting tickled and perhaps falling into the pond, was that her hands felt good. They were soft and warming quickly to his body heat, as they slid slowly up his torso. Ginny was doing the JAWS music from when she'd gone to Hermione's house once and watched muggle golvies or whatever they were called.

Could she feel how fast his heart thumped in his chest? The way his skin got goosebumps at her touch? She surely read the fear in his eyes but thought it was for some other reason. Her slender fingers meandered up his ribs, and seemed to almost stroke over his hard nipples. Then her touch traveled over the collarbone and down, but before she could reach the tickle point Ron leapt up, and grabbed her hands and pushed.

He was sure his sister's shrieking laughter could be heard all the way down the road in town. Only he of all his brothers, and sometimes Bill, were able to make Ginny shriek in laughter like this. She kept on laughing as he tumbled down upon her and they rolled to the side, and finally stopped, gasping for breath, when their rolling ended in a bunch of shrubbery.

Ron found himself out of breath for multiple reasons as the roll ended. First of all, they had rolled through thorns and prickles, and he could feel his cut finger begin to throb in pain. Secondly, his heart still raced from his sister's touch, and thirdly, he had ended up on top of her! Her soft, curvaceous body lay underneath him, belly heaving in laughter, oblivious to his hands.

His hands...Oh, Merlin's beard! He had grabbed her hands in his and pushed her, and still her hands sat in his, pressed up against her chest. Three fingers of his right hand had unwrapped from around her knuckles and soft palms, and lay over the full curve of a breast.

Ron didn't know what to do. Should he leap off and run away? He almost wanted to run away, so helpless he felt. But at the same time he was frozen in shock and fear, unable to move.

And also at the same time his hand wanted to move, to slide beneath the buttons of her shirt and beneath that lacy blue bra...to cup her soft flesh. Ron knew Ginny wasn't one to wear those ridiculous bras that made the girl's breasts look bigger, or perkier, or smoother, or what Harry had explained to Ron when Ron looked in a muggle mag, was a "push up bra."

Ginny wasn't one to wear any of those, so every curve of flesh, every moment of revealed skin and jiggle and erotic stretch of movement....it was all genuine, all Ginny.

He wanted to taste her, too, not just touch her. He wanted to see her body soaked again, as it had been when she had emerged from his water hole. He wanted to have her lying soaked before him, and peel from her body every scrap of cloth...Ron closed his eyes, and bit down on his lip. His hands flopped to the sides and he pushed them hard into the ground. Still they trembled. He would have dirt crusted under his nails now, and Ginny's bloody knee had probably dirtied his clothes, too. Oh well. Who cared, even if it was evidence of something strange and might earn questions? He had Ginny lying beneath him.

Finally Ginny stopped laughing and looked up at Ron, straight into his eyes. Ron gulped and stared back. He wanted to look away, but at the same time, he didn't. Looking away would be showing guilt, and he didn't want her to see that.

But looking at her eyes and trying not to see how intensely she stared was making him focus more on sensation, on her body and how it felt beneath him...mmm, it felt so good. It was soft and curving. He could feel the flesh of her belly against his where their shirts had been pushed up. He could feel her thighs against his. And even though he was trying to hold himself up with his arms, he could feel her breasts just barely against his chest. He wondered what it would be like to hold them, or to slide his hand past the waistband of her trousers and...

"Ginny!? Ginny, where are you??"

The yell came somewhere from their right.

Ron jerked his body up, away from her, gasping as the movement made his lower body push against hers. Could she feel how hard he was? Did she notice he was sweating? Ron leapt up to stand and plopped down onto the blanket. He heard Ginny stand up and come to stand beside him, but before she could say a single word he blurted, "You'd better go find 'em. I'll be in for dinner in a sec."

As Ron watched her walk away, he swore under his breath. Now what had he gotten himself into? The next few days would seem to last eons as he wondered to himself if she could tell that he was attracted to her.

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More coming soon! Reviews welcome. :)