Summary: Harry is in a funk, a funk Ginny remembers well from her second year. It'll take the firm application of some Weasley House Rules to correct.

Rating: M (F/M, F/f, spanking, language)

Author Notes: This plot idea wouldn't leave me alone. I'm pretending for the sake of the story that Ginny has picked up the nonverbal Levicorpus charm from someone.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or exploit them for financial gain; JKR does. This story contains the semi-consensual spanking of two characters. If you're not into that sort of thing, you probably shouldn't read any further.

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To say that Harry Potter was having a lie in might be a bit ambitious. The kitchen's clock read 4:30, yet Harry showed no signs of rousing himself. He had been this way for days on end now, nicking food from the kitchen in the middle of the night and sequestering himself in Percy's old room at the Burrow all day long. Any time a well-meaning Ron, Hermione or Ginny might come by, they would be met with feigned sleep, or worse, completely ignored. Harry seemed to have drawn himself into a miserable ball of suffering, and his moodiness permeated the environment at the Burrow, like a lurking Dementor.

Harry had put on a brave face at Dumbledore's funeral, but he had become increasingly withdrawn and moody over the next two weeks. Hermione was busily researching possessions of the Founders, andwhile Harry and Ron offered help, she would have none of it. As a result, Ron and Harry were forced into inaction. And if there was one thing they did poorly, it was this.On one memorable occasion, Harry had thrown his chess set against the wall and locked himself in Percy's old room for the rest of the day. As Ginny had noted, it was actually a much closer loss for Harry than usual, so she doubted it was the source of his sudden chess fury. The shellshocked pieces would interact with no one, and they all huddled together under the sofa.

Ginny could relate, having spent a similar week in misery after the terrible ending to her second year. But she had been twelve years old at the time—Harry was now of legal age; a man. And men cried, men grieved, but men did NOT lock themselves in their rooms like petulant children. Her resolve stiffened, Ginny strode purposefully to Harry's door and knocked crisply.

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Ginny lay in her own bed, four years previous, similarly sequestered. Her mother knocked upon the door, lightly at first, and then more insistently.

"What?" Ginny called, trying to affect a sleepy, annoyed tone.

"It's nearly noon, Ginny, wake up," her mother called, "I want you to fetch some things in town." As Molly returned to the kitchen, Ginny rolled over in bed and dwelled, perhaps for the hundredth time, on Tom Riddle. She did not see why she should get up, go into Ottery St. Catchpole, or do anything at all– the muggles were always a little wary of the Weasleys, everyone would be afraid of her at school now, and even Fred and George, who rarely passed on an opportunity to tease, had begun to treat her as though she were a particularly delicate explosive. It was her fault. Why had she trusted in Tom?

Her mother called again from downstairs. Ginny could surely feign deafness to that one. She ignored the call and stared at her ceiling, her mind still trapped in the Chamber of Secrets.

Ginny's stomach rumbled angrily. Perhaps if she could fall asleep again she might forget her hunger pangs…

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Less than a year prior, Harry had privately thought of Molly Weasley as a saber-toothed tiger. This was probably a good comparison.

"Alohamora!" There was a click, and Ginny's door was opened. "Ginevra Weasley!" she stormed, "I told you to get up twenty minutes ago! Why are you still in bed? Get up this minute! And you can clean up this room first thing; it's a pigsty!"

Ginny grunted. "Why? It's my room, I can do what I like with it!"

"Well," Molly said dangerously, "this is my house, and you are my daughter. And I do not want you to be some…" She cast about for a suitable phrase and finished,"...lazy layabout!"

"Everyone hates me! They're all scared of me. I don't want to be around people who are afraid of me!" Ginny shouted, flaring up immediately.

"Nonsense," Molly said flatly, "we all love you. But you are getting up. Now."

"Sod off."

Molly was across the room in a heartbeat. With a thought of Levicorpus, Ginny was jerked into the air by her ankle. Ginny's face went brick red and she began abusing her mother with every horrible word she could think of, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Molly, looking as though she'd been slapped, cast a quick Silencio on her daughter, and then on the room, and gazed at Ginny, as though sizing her up.

"Ginny," she said quietly, hurt and disappointment in her voice, "you're far too old to behave like this. And we do love you. But you surely know why I've cast a Silencing Charm, don't you?"

Ginny, her red hair tickling the mattress below, just glared at her mother, still suspended by her ankle. Of course she knew. Silencio was a death knell for misbehaving Weasley children. Molly sighed. "You're too old to be punished this way, Ginny, but if you act like a child, I'll treat you like one."

Molly sat on the edge of Ginny's bed and shook her head slowly. "I never thought I'd have to do this again," she said. Carefully, Molly levitated Ginny over her lap. With a Liberacorpus, twelve-year-old Ginny found herself in a position she hadn't experienced for years, but remembered all too well. Molly removed the Silencing Charm, flipped up Ginny's nightdress, and began to lecture.

"Ginny, you've got to stop wallowing in self-pity. We all love you. The only reason you think your family is afraid of you is because you won't give them a chance to love you. They can't get close to you because you won't even talk to them. But after this business, daughter-of-mine, you will go down to supper and apologize to everyone. Not for the diary, but for how you've treated them all week."

Ginny sniffled a bit, and hung her head, shamed.Next came every Weasley child's least favorite words: "Accio hairbrush!"

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"Harry, let me in."

"Go away, Ginny. I don't want to see you. I don't love you." It broke Harry's heart to say these words, but he savagely welcomed the pain, these days. Dumbledore was gone, hewas severely frustrated with Hermione's lack of progress,and he had to keep his distance from Ginny. His life couldn't get much worse.

Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Let me in. Now."

"Sod off."

"Impedimenta!" cried Ginny.

BANG! Percy's door flew inward, ripping free of its frame. Ginny was not quite as subtle as her mother. "Levicorpus!" she thought. Harry, clad in pajamas, was similarly hoisted into the air by the ankle.

"What the fuck, Ginny?" yelled Harry.

As her mother had four years prior, Ginny cast two Silencio spells. One for Harry, one for the room.

"Listen to me, you prat," Ginny began, tears welling up in her eyes, "You are not breaking up with me for some stupid, noble reason. I won't accept it. I also won't let you mope in Percy's room all fucking summer. You did not kill Dumbledore. It wasn't your fault, Harry." She locked eyes with him, though his green ones were upside-down. "I love you, but you've been behaving like a spoiled brat! Pretending to be asleep when Ron and Hermione come upstairs! What is that about? How can you turn your back on your two best friends in the whole damn world, especially when Hermione's trying so hard? Answer me that!" With snort of contempt and a flick of her wand, she released him from both spells. Harry fell unceremoniously onto the bed with a crash. Here again, Ginny lacked Molly Weasley's tact. But it seemed to have worked, at least marginally. Harry had, to his credit, possessed the grace to look abashed at her lecture. But he still couldn't allow himself to get close to her.

"I don't love you. And I don't need Ron and Hermione."

With an angry growl, Ginny once again jerked Harry into the air, using Levicorpus.

"Damnit, Ginny! Put me down!"

"Then have the fucking courtesy not to lie to me!" she shrieked.

"Just cast your damn Bat-Bogey Hex and leave me the hell alone!"

Ginny gave a sad little smile at this. "You think that's why I've burst in here like this? No, Harry. Mum would say that you've been acting like a child and should be treated like one. It's immature, this locking yourself away. If you'd grown up in this house, you'd know what comes after Silencio, it's one of Fred and George's oldest jokes."

"I don't care," said Harry flatly, still hanging upside-down, "Go away, Ginny."

She continued as though Harry hadn't spoken at all. "Natis incendio," she recited, with a wry smile."Harry, you're going to get a spanking today. And you're going to shape up."

Harry blinked at her. The Bat-Bogey Hex was one thing, but a spanking? "You're kidding, right? You know I'm practically twice your size. How the hell are you going to spank me?"

Ginny smiled again. "Like a child."

"Ginny, this is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You can't spank me, I'm a legal adult!"

"And just what are you going to do about it? Take me to the Wizengamot for giving you a spanking you deserve? Shall we get Mum's opinion on it? The entire family's opinion? That would be a lovely conversation: 'Oi, Weasleys and Hermione, do you think Harry the Prat should have his backside warmed for being such an arse?'"

Harry flushed, although in fairness, it may have just been from dangling upside-down for so long.

"No, Harry," she continued, "you don't want that. You'll take it, because you know you deserve it. It's my stupid, noble thing to do." She sat on the edge of the bed, and levitated Harry facedown over her lap. When she released him, using Liberacorpus, he nearly knocked them both off the bed.

"Listen to me carefully, Harry. These are the house rules; I didn't make them. Don't even think about getting up or stopping me, or you'll get it every night before bed for a week. And Mum will help enforce that, rest assured. Don't curse during your spanking. Especially not at me. Nobody but you and me have to ever know about this, as long as you behave . There is no shame in having to be spanked, Mum always told us, but if you make your bed, you've got to lie in it. And probably on your stomach."

Harry grunted. She was right, really. He'd been terrible to the people who loved him most in the world. Downright callous, really. Maybe he did deserve this. "Fine, Ginny; get on with it," Harry said, trying to sound as though he was just bored with her theatrics.

"Whoa, whoa!" he said, as she began to tug at his pajama bottoms, "what the hell?"

"You're getting a spanking, Harry. On your bare bum, same as we got as kids."

Harry tried to conceal his curiosity with indignation. "You were spanked as a kid? But you're a girl! I mean, Fred and George are one thing, but how could your parents spank you?" Honestly, they were monsters! Who could spank a little girl?

Ginny swept aside his question with a wave of her hand. "Of course I got spanked. I was just as much a brat as Fred or George. It'll be terrible, but you'll feel better after, I promise. A clean slate, of sorts. Now stop stalling, or I'll use magic." With a swift motion, she drew down his bottoms and underpants.

Whack! With neither ceremony nor hesitation, Ginny's small hand came speeding down on Harry's backside. An angry red handprint was left in its place.

"Ouch! Ginny, c'mon, this is childish!"

"Of course it is. It's exactly what you need."

Now Ginny was by no means an expert spanker, but she had been on the receiving end plenty of times. She concentrated at first on the tender flesh where his backside met his legs. Each time she spanked him there, she was rewarded with a little grunt, and a squirm. These were familiar motions – she had danced this particular dance before as well. She watched, fascinated, as his bottom changed from white to a uniform pink color. She spanked the tops of his thighs, remembering how she'd hated that. It was working: Harry had begun to squirm more fiercely on her lap. There was but one unfamiliar part to this spanking. As she went about her work, there was a definite growing presence making itself felt on her right thigh. She tried to pretend it wasn't there, and concentrated instead on taking him to task.

"Not only have you been a total prat to Ron and Hermione, you keep trying to take out your anger on me, too!" She punctuated this with a couple of particularly hard slaps to his "sit-spots." "I won't have it anymore! And no more of this nonsense!" she spat as an afterthought, now shaking her tender hand. "If you're getting a Weasley spanking, you're getting it right."

"Accio Mum's Hairbrush!"

"What?" Harry exclaimed, "No way! You can't do that! It hurts too much already!"

Ginny smiled ruefully, and caught the speeding hairbrush deftly. "Oh yes I can. And I will. Your behavior has been beastly, and if you can't sit right for a week, believe me, it'll improve. And if it doesn't, we'll be right back here. That's a promise."

CRACK! Ginny smacked each of Harry's sit-spots again with the brush, and he let out an involuntary cry of pain.

"Damnit, Ginny!"

This was, of course, the wrong thing for Harry to say, under the circumstances.

"That's an extra twenty when you're done, Harry. Do not curse."

Harry groaned. "Oh, c'mon, you can't expect me-"

She cut across him. "House rules. Now stop wriggling."

Ginny began to spank in earnest, idly fascinated by the way Harry's entire body reacted to each swat. His cheeks began to color much faster under the ministrations of the hairbrush, and he began to cry out slightly after each and every swat. The bulge was still steadily present on her right thigh. Odd thoughts kept flashing involuntarily through her mind – What if it were she being spanked like a child again? Held tightly on Harry's lap... A guilty little flame curled through her belly, and her face flushed. She shook herself mentally and renewed herself to the task at hand.

"You've treated me like some toy. Fun to play with, but easily cast aside whenever times get tough. I'm not a toy, Harry! I want to help you!" Her temper building, she began to spank even harder. She thought she heard Harry sniffle.

"I love you," she said, "and I hate this stupid nobility complex you've got! I'm not going away! You won't drive me away!" Harry really was beginning to cry now, and Ginny continued to rain down hard, crisp, even smacks with the wood-backed hairbrush.

All of Harry's hard, angry exterior slipped away as he began to sob. Deep, wracking sobs that had little to do with the fire Ginny had built up in his backside. All of Harry's shame, shame at ignoring his friends, shame at trying to discard Ginny, shame for disrespecting the whole Weasley family, came out. The guilt he carried for Sirius and Dumbledore released its hold a notch or two. Feeling that it was somehow important, Harry tried to blubber an apology to Ginny, even as she continued his spanking. Of course, it was nearly incomprehensible and in the end, Harry relegated himself to just crying, opening himself to the punishment.

After spanking in silence for another minute or so, Ginny stopped abruptly. "Harry, you're almost done. Just the extra twenty now. Be strong for just a little while more, luv."

Harry gritted his teeth, determined, but still yelped in pain for each and every one of the punishment swats. After twenty, Ginny began rubbing his bottom tenderly, admiring the heat she had put there. His cheeks had turned an angry dull red color, and Ginny knew from personal experience that she had done the thing properly. Harry, she knew, would feel this spanking every time he sat down for at least a week.

"Harry, I love you."

The messy-haired boy (who was even more of a mess now) looked up at her. He hiccuped. "I know, Gin. I love you, too." He slid into a sort of sitting position on her lap, pants still around his knees, and winced. Ginny smiled, wrapped her arms around him, laid back on the bed, and pulled him close. They lay for several minutes in this embrace, and Harry's ragged breathing gradually steadied. Though his bottom burned like hell, he could see what she'd meant about it. A clean slate, everything forgiven. He really did feel better. Now he just had to figure out how to apologize to everyone else.

"Ginny?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. Nobody's ever loved me enough to do that, if you know what I mean."

Ginny did, of course. Surely the Dursleys would never have given him a real spanking, one borne from love. "Oh, I forgot. That's another house rule. You've got to thank me afterwards."

Harry grinned ruefully. "That's a lot of rules."