Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.

A/N: This isn't properly British. Warning for incest.


Ginny only met the dance floor when he took her hand, drawing her away from the table and the plate she'd been indulging in. She should've kept her sweater on. Everywhere he touches raises gooseflesh all down her bare arms.

Bill looks stunning in his lavender dress robes, but then, Bill looks stunning in everything. His long hair is swept over his shoulder, just as vivid and fiery as hers. Bill was always the most handsome one. His wedding is no exception.

The music hasn't stopped all night. When they join the crowd, there is no pause, no introduction. Bill has one arm around Ginny's trim waist and his other hand in hers, and he sweeps her easily in with the other couples. Ginny can only imagine what this looks like. A good family dance: the last one, before he's given away. Her eyes are prickling slightly; she wonders if people think she's tearing up with joy.

When they're tight in the center of the dance floor, so thick into the music that no one can hear them over the thrum of it, Bill leans down to her ear. He whispers, "I'm glad you came," as if she had any choice. He twirls her under his arm like the ballerina they both used to pretend she was, and then she's back again, pressed tightly into him.

Ginny replies too-hollowly, "Congratulations."

Bill has to smile. It's his wedding. They have appearances—there's always been appearances. Always secrets. Fred and George have theirs, Percy has his own, and Bill has all of Ginny's. She knows him too well not to see the lingering sadness in his eyes. They know they have to do this. They can't... they can't be what they want.

It doesn't make it any easier. He leans down again and lifts his hand to the small of her back, pressing her into him. Slow dancing. She closes her eyes as her head tilts under his chin, against his strong shoulder. He smells like lavender. He feels like he always does; strong and perfect. He shouldn't be Fleur's. She'll never be what Ginny can be. She's taking Bill away, and she'll never even know that Ginny had him first, that he'll always be Ginny's. Fleur's only a silver ribbon.

Her voice is thick as she whispers quietly, "I don't want to let you go," knowing they have until the end of the song. She hates sounding desperate. He pats her hair.

"I know, Gin, I know." He kisses the top of her head: brotherly affection that she doesn't want. Bill hasn't been her brother since...

She pulls back, back to step away. The more she touches him, the harder it is. He doesn't let go of her hand, and his arm falls back to encircle her waist. He won't let her go, she knows, not really.

He coos, "You said you wouldn't cry."

The song ends. Ginny croaks, "I lied," and pulls out of his grip to disappear in the sea of strangers.