Title: Safe, Brother, Safe
Author: Aspen (allsingingcrap@hotmail.com)
Pairing: Ron/Ginny hints
Rating: PG-13
Warning: fluff, incest hints, ficlet, stupid present tense!
Notes: I think I have found my One True Pairing or something; I am endlessly, thoroughly fascinated by something so clearly percieved as wrong seeming so right, am obsessed with the innocence I am finding in this pairing. Altricial and I are pioneers, let me tell you. And she triple-dog-dared me to title it this. :D The title makes it seem a lot better than it is. -_-;
Dedication: Why, to Altricial, naturally! Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns 'em; I just own their leashes.
She breaks and enters; luckily, Pig is off delivering a letter to Harry, so there's no delighted screech or frenetic cage-banging from Ron's owl as she slips in and closes the door again behind her. Ron doesn't stir, only mumbles softly in his sleep and curls up beneath his blanket a little. Ginny hesitates. Maybe he'll be mad if she wakes him up. But her heart is pounding and she needs to go and touch him, to make sure he's okay, that he's really there. She pads quietly over his Chudley Cannons rug, steps over a pile of comics, and peels back his moonlight-checked orange blanket. His old bed squeaks a little as she sits on it and slides in beside him, wondering if he'll wake up at all.
There is a bit of pillow left and she scoots in closer to rest her pounding head on it, staring up at Ron's ceiling. A few orange-clad Quidditch players with bed-head peer back into the empty scenery of the poster taped on Ron's ceiling above his bed, confused -- then, they recognise her and wave enthusiastically. She smiles at them and waves a little with one hand; not too much, or she'll wake up Ron.
The warmth and calm her sleeping brother exudes comforts Ginny; her toes brush against the soft worn flannel of his striped pyjamas and then find cool feet, which seem to warm up against hers. When she is sure his feet are warm, she turns onto her side to try and find sleep, glad to be in his presence, which is the only thing that can quell the fear of her dream. She lies awake for a few minutes staring into the darkness. Why is everything in her room frightening and everything in Ron's room smells good, like soap and Gryffindor tower and Ron, and nothing has a threatening shadow? Even the ghoul rattling at the pipes above his room doesn't seem scary with Ron right next to her in bed.
In fact, she does not even jump when she feels an arm slither under her own then around her upper waist.
"Cold?" mumbles Ron sleepily, voice quite close to her ear. Ginny goes red and accepts more blanket.
"Had a dream," she whispers, fumbling her hand over his own and threading a few fingers in his.
"A bad one?"
"Yeah."
A lump forms abruptly in her throat as Ron's thumb strokes in a comforting motion on her stomach. Images are flashing through her mind. Anxious crowds, a booming voice, Ron and Harry are nowhere to be found. She wanders around, lost, not knowing when she let go of Ron's hand but searching desperately in the faceless masses for red hair, or a funny grin, someone tall with a maroon sweater on, but she's all alone and then she knows -- Ron is in the lake --
"You sure you're not cold?"
Ron moves a little closer to her, doubling his legs up under hers and laying his head on her tangled hair so his breath warms her neck.
"Not anymore," Ginny whispers to him. She feels Ron reach under his pillow for something, then hears him mutter a spell, and the lock on his door slides heavily shut again.
"There, see? Don't you worry about it. Nice and safe, that's us."
Ginny stays awake as long as she can to feel Ron next to her, but soon falls into a warm, relieving sleep.
- Fin
Author: Aspen (allsingingcrap@hotmail.com)
Pairing: Ron/Ginny hints
Rating: PG-13
Warning: fluff, incest hints, ficlet, stupid present tense!
Notes: I think I have found my One True Pairing or something; I am endlessly, thoroughly fascinated by something so clearly percieved as wrong seeming so right, am obsessed with the innocence I am finding in this pairing. Altricial and I are pioneers, let me tell you. And she triple-dog-dared me to title it this. :D The title makes it seem a lot better than it is. -_-;
Dedication: Why, to Altricial, naturally! Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns 'em; I just own their leashes.
She breaks and enters; luckily, Pig is off delivering a letter to Harry, so there's no delighted screech or frenetic cage-banging from Ron's owl as she slips in and closes the door again behind her. Ron doesn't stir, only mumbles softly in his sleep and curls up beneath his blanket a little. Ginny hesitates. Maybe he'll be mad if she wakes him up. But her heart is pounding and she needs to go and touch him, to make sure he's okay, that he's really there. She pads quietly over his Chudley Cannons rug, steps over a pile of comics, and peels back his moonlight-checked orange blanket. His old bed squeaks a little as she sits on it and slides in beside him, wondering if he'll wake up at all.
There is a bit of pillow left and she scoots in closer to rest her pounding head on it, staring up at Ron's ceiling. A few orange-clad Quidditch players with bed-head peer back into the empty scenery of the poster taped on Ron's ceiling above his bed, confused -- then, they recognise her and wave enthusiastically. She smiles at them and waves a little with one hand; not too much, or she'll wake up Ron.
The warmth and calm her sleeping brother exudes comforts Ginny; her toes brush against the soft worn flannel of his striped pyjamas and then find cool feet, which seem to warm up against hers. When she is sure his feet are warm, she turns onto her side to try and find sleep, glad to be in his presence, which is the only thing that can quell the fear of her dream. She lies awake for a few minutes staring into the darkness. Why is everything in her room frightening and everything in Ron's room smells good, like soap and Gryffindor tower and Ron, and nothing has a threatening shadow? Even the ghoul rattling at the pipes above his room doesn't seem scary with Ron right next to her in bed.
In fact, she does not even jump when she feels an arm slither under her own then around her upper waist.
"Cold?" mumbles Ron sleepily, voice quite close to her ear. Ginny goes red and accepts more blanket.
"Had a dream," she whispers, fumbling her hand over his own and threading a few fingers in his.
"A bad one?"
"Yeah."
A lump forms abruptly in her throat as Ron's thumb strokes in a comforting motion on her stomach. Images are flashing through her mind. Anxious crowds, a booming voice, Ron and Harry are nowhere to be found. She wanders around, lost, not knowing when she let go of Ron's hand but searching desperately in the faceless masses for red hair, or a funny grin, someone tall with a maroon sweater on, but she's all alone and then she knows -- Ron is in the lake --
"You sure you're not cold?"
Ron moves a little closer to her, doubling his legs up under hers and laying his head on her tangled hair so his breath warms her neck.
"Not anymore," Ginny whispers to him. She feels Ron reach under his pillow for something, then hears him mutter a spell, and the lock on his door slides heavily shut again.
"There, see? Don't you worry about it. Nice and safe, that's us."
Ginny stays awake as long as she can to feel Ron next to her, but soon falls into a warm, relieving sleep.
- Fin