Summary: Tradition dictates that a daughter born of pure-blood must be taught certain customs before she reached the age of maturity. Ginny Weasley was no exception. Arthur/Ginny. Incest.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters.
The Pure-blood Education of Ginevra Molly Weasley
Daughters of noble blood must be learned in customs befitting her birth. Indeed, before being allowed to take her place in wizarding society, her magical education must first begin at home. Wherein, with the aide of her mother, she will be schooled in the ways of a dutiful wife, a successful mother, and an accomplished Lady of the House. Likewise, with the guidance of a patient father, she will grow to be knowledgeable and skilled on the many ways of maintaining a husband.
- Instructions and Advice for Raising a Young Witch by Corrine Electra Gaunt
Ten.
Arthur couldn't believe he was having this conversation.
Apparently, it was now time to introduce Ginny to the world of pure-blood etiquette.
It was terrifying, insane, surreal, frustrating, overwhelming and incredibly repulsive.
He had never thought that he, a known Blood-Traitor, would have had to deal with this. As a Weasley, his family had never set much store in customs and archaic pure-blood traditions. Or at least they hadn't since that one fateful day, many years ago, when his great-great-great-grandfather had bartered away the family gold for the hand in marriage of a much wealthier woman.
Falling in love with a daughter of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, his ancestor quickly learned, had been a very expensive emotion as her dowry had demanded no less than the family fortune. So forth, the Weasely clan had lost all titles, properties as well as it's pure-blood pride. The need to maintain ridiculous traditions that served no higher purpose other than pomp and circumstance, too disappeared. So, it was safe to say, that this whole affair had caught him completely off guard.
More so, because it was Molly who was encouraging it.
She had, in fact, been doing so for a few months now. The day after Ginny's tenth birthday, Molly had begun her little quest. Nearly five months later, she had yet to stop.
He wished he could say that all her work had been in vain, but as of late, he had felt his conviction falter. After so many months of arguing, she had begun to wear him down.
Merlin help him, but she had.
Nothing specific had been said on her part. No valid reason was given. No justification good enough had been provided. Ashamed as he was to admit it, the only reason he now considered doing such a vile act, was for no other reason, than the simple fact that he was exhausted of the constant fighting.
The level of self-loathing and disgust he felt at the fact was unparalleled.
He was weak.
He was actually considering raping his daughter because his wife was beating him into submission.
'It is necessary Arthur!' his wife screamed at him for the hundredth time.
And for the hundredth time, he glared at her, hoping to Merlin that she would stop insisting on his need to perform this disgusting act.
Completely unfazed and not at all quelled by his steely gaze, she glared right back at him.
The stubborn gleam in her eye made his already edgy temper snap.
'Do you even hear yourself?!' he yelled for the millionth time as he banged his fists on the kitchen table. 'This is my daughter Molly! How can you possibly ask me to - to...'
She shook her head, already knowing what he was going to say, '-It is not rape Arthur! Not when-'
'-I'm her father!' He stood and began to pace the kitchen.
'Yes you are,' she said, 'and that is why you need to do this!'
He rounded on her, asking her the same question he had asked her hundreds of times before. 'How can you possibly think this is okay?!'
'Because I was there! I've known and lived through it and it was a beauti-'
'-It's incest!' he snarled.
'Yes,' she admitted, 'That cannot be denied. It is also the most wonderful experience a young witch can have, if done with proper guidance and a loving teacher.'
'It's sick!'
'-it's tradition!' she hissed.
He shook his head in disgust, 'I don't care if its law. I wont do it!'
'Then no respectable man will be willing to marry her,' she argued yet again. Her voice loud and screeching.
His temple throbbed.
'There are other men in the world Molly,' he countered, 'ones that aren't pure-bloods!'
'Of course there are, but what if she falls in love with one that is? What then?'
He ran a hand through his thinning hair. Frustration and anger not allowing him to centre his thoughts properly. 'Its not necessary! I wont do it! I wont!'
She walked towards him. Taking his hand, she led him to the head of the table.
After a moments silence she spoke again. Her voice much quieter than before. 'Then you run the risk of ruining future.'
His eyes roamed over the polished wood. For the first time, be noticed all the scratches and stains. All solid proof, that this house was much more than wood and stone. It was a home. One he had lovingly built with Molly ... who had known how to please him perfectly on their wedding night ...
'It's idiotic and pointless!' he repeated. Even as he once again felt his resolve begin to waver. 'All those stories of sex magic and virginal enlightenment a-a-and familial blood ...'
'-Are complete rubbish, I know,' she soothed, as she ran her thumb over his knuckles. 'But it does not change the fact that many do believe the rumours to be true. We both know that it does nothing and that it doesn't enhance a damn thing ... but also take into account Arthur that to us, blood purity does not matter, but that to many, it still does. Even if they refuse to admit it.'
'It's bullshit,' he murmured.
Molly nodded her head. 'It is, but the fear of producing a squib is not.'
He didn't know how to respond to that. It was a disgusting truth.
Even he had inwardly cheered when all his children showed signs of accidental magic.
'Ginny is powerful Arthur. The seventh child, and the first Weasley daughter born in seven centuries ... Her magic cannot be denied ... But that will not matter. Not when the shame and fear of birthing a squib is still very much present.'
He shut his eyes and ran his hands over his face. Anger and frustration surging through him. Though she was right, he still didn't care.
It was disgusting and perverse.
He wouldn't do it.
Besides, he reasoned, the likelihood that she would fall in love with a pure-blood was minimal. There weren't too many of them left.
There were more half-bloods than there were Muggleborns and pure-bloods put together. It was more than likely that she would marry a young man with Muggle blood. Granted, some half-bloods had been raised in the old traditions as well. Surely, he wondered, that particular practice couldn't be all that common in this day in age ... right?
A distant memory of his father asking his father-in-law if Molly had been trained by him came to the forefront of his mind.
His stomach churned horribly at the thought.
At the time, it hadn't mattered. Not really anyway. It was just a fact of their upbringing.
Although not openly acknowledged or discussed, a young witches enlightenment had long ago become socially acceptable. It was expected for pure-blooded daughters to have a certain level of skill in the marital bed before marriage.
Someone, somewhere, long ago, an old lecher had deemed it important that a daughter have knowledge on how to please a man. Clearly, it was vital she be young as well.
He suspected that it had been an abusive pervert, with immense wealth and power, who had first proclaimed it a necessity. Perhaps in order to cover up his own misdeeds and justify his own perverse urges. Rumour had it that the ancient, and now extinct, line of Gaunt had been behind it all. The accusations were rampant, but it all remained the same; the idea took off, gained merit, and was now a highly practiced and unspoken tradition.
Ironically, there had been no studies done to prove sex magic increased a witch's power. Yet, it was considered to be fact. Sex magic, many believed, increased the likelihood of magically powerful children. And so, at the tender age of ten, fathers were expected to begin teaching the pleasures of sex to their daughters.
She raised her hand and massaged the back of his neck. 'It can be a very loving experience if done correctly Arthur.'
He shut his eyes and breathed in deeply, resisting the urge to vomit and cry.
'How...?' he croaked out as his resolve finally shattered into a million pieces.
He was going to hell.
'Steps,' she quietly answered. 'Everything paced, and done in a generous way'
He bowed his head, 'Merlin.'
'Just make it enjoyable for you both,' Molly advised, 'and that'll be enough.'
Tears pooled behind his closed eyelids. 'How can you sit there and ask me to bed my daughter Molly? How could you do this to her, to me?'
Silence and then, 'Because Arthur ... Had I not gone through my own enlightenment, your father would have never accepted me. He would not have given us The Burrow as a wedding gift. Without our home, we wouldn't have felt secure enough to continue having children ... simple things that we believe may not have mattered, could have made all the difference in the world. And if this is what needs to be done, to guarantee her a happy future, then so be it.'
After several minutes of silence, Molly nudged him and motioned towards her magical clock. Molly's and his' hands pointed at Home. Bill's and Charlie's pointed at Working, the younger boys hands were all aimed at School. Only one read Bedtime.
Ginny.
He cursed his weakness and he cursed her insistence.
Arthur swallowed a painful lump in his throat. 'What do I do?'
'Simple,' she said, 'Start simple.'
Simple, he thought, what part of this whole fucked up situation was simple?
He was going to rape his baby girl. There was nothing simple about that.
His stomach cramped at the thought, and he tasted vile at the back of his throat.
'No better time than now love.' With a squeeze of his hand, Molly released him and made her way upstairs. He sat there until he heard their bedroom door close. And a bit longer. Finally he began climbing the stairs.
Simple, she had advised, start off simple.
What exactly qualified as simple?
Nothing about this situation was simple and to be told to - to ... He groaned and sat himself on the landing outside his little girl's bedroom door.
After several more minutes, he knocked and was invited him. Dressed in fluffy unicorn pajamas, she looked so small. So innocent. So beautiful.
He was going to ruin her.
In the end, he couldn't do it.
He read her a bedtime story. Talked to her about her day, was informed of letters from Percy and the twins but not Ron who was now best friends with Harry Potter of all people.
He smiled knowingly when her eye twinkled at the eleven year old hero's given name.
Finally, he decided the hour had passed and he hadn't acted and that was ok. It meant that it wasn't meant to happen.
He was not big on signs but in this occasion, he had to admit, he'd been waiting for an opening. It never came, so that said it all.
'Right,' he said, 'time for bed.'
'It's too early,' she whined, even as she got under the covers.
Arthur smiled and made to kiss her cheek goodnight, when in a moment of circumstance, Ginny turned and their lips met for the briefest of seconds.
Shit, shit, shit.
Quickly pulling back, he saw brown eyes - so much like Molly's - widen.
Growing frightened by the second, sickened with his actions, and with rapidly growing desperation he raised himself and opened his mouth to explain. Because he had to explain - did a small giggle break the silence of the room.
The tall man stared down at the beautiful angel who had made the beautiful sound, he felt relief course through him.
He hadn't hurt her. Or scarred her.
She wasn't broken and they were okay.
They were okay.
More than okay, judging by the quaking her tiny body was doing, and the stifled giggles that rang throughout the room. Though she had pulled her sheets upward and covered all but her eyes, he could still see her wide smile in the way her eyes crinkled and in how bright they shined.
He felt the corners of his lips lifting upwards. The sight of his daughter happy and laughing was a beautiful one, and he felt a rush of warmth and love for her in his chest.
'You kissed me on the lips daddy,' she said between giggles.
And just like that, his smile faded and he felt his chest begin to ache. His heart began to race. His palms began to sweat.
'Y-eah love. I did didn't I?' he said. His voice slightly higher than normal. Out of desperation perhaps, he laughed.
'Silly of me,' he said. His voice reverting back to the funny one she liked when he read her a bedtime story or when they played.
Played.
Without a thought, trembling hands reached down and started tickling her. Her peals of laughter growing louder and louder as his relentless fingers roamed behind her knees.
As he did, a half arsed plan formed.
'Stop!' she pleaded amidst giggles.
Arthur promised he would ... for a kiss.
She agreed and he turned his cheek to her. Just like before, but unlike before, he turned his head so her plump pink lips met his own.
Once again she giggled, except this time he didn't straighten up or tickle her.
His heart raced.
'Are my kisses funny?' he asked in his silly voice as he crossed his eyes and wobbled his head.
More giggles.
'No.'
Taking advantage of his position, he ran his hand through her hair and lowered his head for a direct kiss.
Her immediate reaction to return it caught him unaware. That she did so made the situation a tad bit bearable.
Not knowing any other way, he kissed her how he knew Molly loved. He shut his eyes and fought the urge to flee.
He nibbled on her plump lips and caressed them with barely there touches. Licking her bottom lip, he quickly massaged her little pink tongue with his own.
His little girl, very pliant and soft beneath him, returned each kiss. Had in fact begun mimicking his own lip movements.
He spent what felt like hours kissing her warm lips, eyelids, button nose, rosy cheeks and sweet smelling hair.
Finally lifting himself fully, Arthur looked down at his baby girl.
Her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen and bruised.
After one last kiss, he bade her goodnight and left her with a smile on her face and a look of innocent acceptance, brought out by her complete and utter trust of him.
Altogether disgusted with himself, he made his way towards the ice box and pulled out a bottle of Muggle vodka. A drink he had discovered in his youth and had enjoyed ever since.
When Molly found him half an hour later, he was sat in the kitchen table just beginning to feel the alcohol's pleasant and numbing haze.
An adoring smile on her much loved face, directed at him.
Completely inappropiate, he thought.
Making her way towards him, she sat beside him and refilled his goblet.
'I love you sweetheart,' she said and he felt, if at all possible, even worse.
She kissed him then. A familiar caress that he had long ago grown accustomed to.
And one that he couldn't help but compare to the charming and inexperienced ones, he had received earlier in the night, from much smaller and softer lips.