InsaneJournal

Fic: Copper Pearls, Ron/Ginny, NC-17
Title: Copper Pearls
Author: foreword
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Ron/Ginny, allusions to Ron/Harry/Hermione
Summary: Ron has always been there to chase the nightmares away.
Warnings: Underage sex, incest, voyeurism, and in the last section knifeplay, bloodplay, and mild breathplay
Author's notes: Written for smutty_claus, for laura_isaac!


Her first week back from her first year at Hogwarts, Ginny wakes up crying every night.

Every night, she dreams of a tall dark man and blood on her hands and she worries that she's losing her soul.

The third night of the nightmares, she wakes up to Ron. He's touching her cheek and trying to stop her tears, and Ginny would have been startled if she hadn't been so touched.

He kisses her, and it's the first time he has done since they were children, the first time it wasn't just in play, and Ginny asks him not to make her sleep alone at home anymore.

*

Ginny has a set of copper pearls that she wears only on special occasions. They were a gift, an accidental sort of present from Ron, when he'd first begun learning Transfiguration spellwork. She never did find out what it was he was trying to transfigure.

"Sorry about the colour," he'd said, sheepishly.

But Ginny thinks they're perfect, and on the day of Bill's wedding, she winds them around her neck, letting one long strand slide between her breasts and drop under the material of her dress.


To say that Ginny hates the bridesmaid gown she's been forced to wear for the occasion is an understatement. It is itchy and full of petticoats and Ginny feels ridiculous in it as she hikes up her skirts and makes her way down the stairs, fists full of tulle and lace. Mrs Weasley had wanted to make the dresses herself, but Fleur had insisted on importing them directly from Paris, frills and all.

Ron's mouth falls open when he catches sight of her, just as she's passing through the kitchen. His face turns the pinkish shade that it gets when he's embarrassed, but Ginny pretends not to notice. She smiles as she passes him and squeezes his hand as she makes her way outside to her fellow bridesmaid.

Gabrielle eyes the pearls around Ginny's neck distrustfully, fingering her own naked throat, but Ginny ignores her. This may be the last summer she's got with Ron, and she wants to make the most of it.

She's not even sure he remembers giving her the pearls until he joins the veritable squadron of best men. He's never been good at subtlety and he keeps stealing glances at her throughout the ceremony.

And then there is wine, and then there are dances. Ginny dances, twirls of pearls and lace and petticoats swinging around her ankles. It's easier than sitting uncomfortably, and she sneaks drinks when the adults aren't looking.

Her cheeks are burning and her feet are aching by the time it's all over and Ginny shuffles her exhausted way up the stairs to her room, mumbling goodnight to the few people left awake, her shoes clutched in her hands so that they can no longer encumber her feet.

Hermione is already asleep when Ginny arrives, curled up under her duvet on her makeshift bed near the window, and Ginny feels guilty about the candle she's holding.

Shadows swing threateningly across the walls as she sets it on her bedside table and begins to undress. She's just shrugged and struggled her way out of the itchy, heavy gown and is smoothing out her slip when she hears a noise.


Ron is standing in her doorway, his hand still resting on the doorknob and looking like he can't manage words. Ginny slides her hand up to clutch hold of her pearls and she watches him nod as she fingers them.

It seems like it's only seconds later that Ron has his arms around her, that he's kissing her forehead, her nose, her lips. No one else has ever kissed her like Ron does. He's so careful, like she's something breakable.

He pulls her closer, never close enough, and Ginny can feel him, hard in his pyjama bottoms, pushing up against he silk of her slip.

She remembers waking from nightmares in tears and Ron holding her, warm and safe and firm.

Hermione stirs and it's like Ron has been stung. He breaks away, jumps back until he's grabbing hold of the doorknob again, and something inside of Ginny breaks a little.

She turns away from him calmly, focusing her attention on her friend until she's positive that Hermione is actually asleep. She looks back over her shoulder at Ron expectantly, and he comes, stumbling his way back across the rug to her. He wraps his arms around her and presses his lips to her cheek, but Ginny can feel that his focus is on Hermione.

This is the way of things, has been the way of things ever since Ron went away to Hogwarts and left Ginny at home. Excepting, of course, the moment Harry first kissed her.

She breaks away from him to blow out the candle and Ron seems to realise that he has been staring.

"Sorry," he whispers, but Ginny doesn't reply. She takes hold of his hand, twining her fingers with his, and she's still wearing the pearls as they crawl onto her bed.


Ginny's bed is small, at best, and they lay on their sides, foreheads touching as Ron slides a tentative hand over her hip. "Won't they hurt?"
It takes Ginny a moment to realise he's talking about the pearls. They are, truth be told, digging into her neck rather painfully, but Ron's eyes are wide the way they get when she skins her knee or gets knocked off of her broom.

She kisses him instead of answering, and Ron kisses her back like it's the last time. Her cheeks feel wet and she wonders if she's crying, but when they break apart, she sees that it's Ron's tears.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he tells her. Ginny hurries to kiss him again, because she can't hear this.

So the big day is tomorrow. Ron, Hermione and Harry will all leave her tomorrow, and she may never see them again. She'll lie awake nights, imagining the three of them together (like she did at school), and in the daytime she'll imagine that they're all dead. She knows that they won't all make it, not against Voldemort, but she can't piece it all together right now.

Right now, Ron is safe and warm and close in her bed.

Ginny kisses him again and lets her hand drop until she's stroking his hard-on through the cotton of his pyjama bottoms, feeling him gasp into her mouth and twitch under her touch.

His fingers dig into her side, and it hurts a little, like there will be a neat half-circle of tiny bruises there tomorrow. She kisses him harder, letting her teeth graze his bottom lip as she strokes him faster, and she feels him respond against her.


Ron groans directly into her mouth, and it's a strange, muted, guttural type of noise. It's precisely the sort of thing that might wake Hermione, but Ginny is starting to not care.

She pushes her fingers through the slit of his bottoms and her fingers brush against the hot, slick skin of his cock. He shifts, and his cock slides easily into her grip so that she can pull it back through the slit, and her hand feels warm and damp against his skin. She hasn't touched him in so long.
Ron, desperate for a grip on Ginny's slippery, silky side, finally finds one in the pearls wrapped around her neck. Ginny gasps at the sudden noose of pears tightening against her throat, and Ron lets go immediately, kissing apologies against her forehead as he rocks against her thigh in spite of himself.

It feels like his cock might burst its way through the silk. Ginny kisses him, moving his hand gently back to rest on the pearls as she reaches between them and pulls up her slip.

Ron pauses in his movements against her, and Ginny answers his questioning stare with a thoughtful kiss, pushing her tongue past his lips as she shifts against him, letting his hard-on brush aimlessly against her thighs and knickers until his hips are moving again, pushing his cock against the lace of her knickers, his fingers tight but careful on the pearls.

It's difficult for Ron to angle, and the bed sags underneath her as he lets go of her to shift. He tugs his pyjama bottoms all the way off, and then he's on top of her, straddling her, and Ginny can feel his balls, heavy and damp with sweat against her knickers as Ron hesitantly touches her breasts, letting his fingers tangle in the knotted mess of pearls and silk against her skin.

Just as he's tugging aside her knickers, his mouth fixed on hers and his hand clutching her tit, there is a noise from Hermione's bed. Ginny recognizes it immediately as a gasp, and she clings to Ron, silently begging him not to leave, not to deny her this, not to try to excuse this away.

Ron, apparently a bit too caught up in the moment to have heard the gasp, mistakes her clinging for insistence that he hurry it up. He jerks her knickers aside until they're tight and bunched against her leg, cutting into her skin a bit painfully.

Ginny closes her eyes and tries to forget about Hermione seeing this, tries to forget because it won't matter. They'll leave tomorrow and it won't matter what she thinks she's seen in the dark in Ginny's room. She slides her hand down her thighs and touches his erection, helping to guide him toward her, until he’s pressing up against her, and Ginny can’t help but squirm in delight, thoughts of Hermione overcome with the pleasure of feeling him against her.


Ron doesn't need any further encouragement before he's pushing his cock inside of her, the stretch and burn of him filling her, fucking her, making her bite down on her lower lip to keep from crying out. There's a slick pull and slide as he shifts, beginning a steady rhythm of in and out as he thrusts into her. Ginny shifts up against him, bending her legs around his arse as they move together, the bed creaking with every thrust and gasp of their breaths.

The pearls have gotten wound around Ron's fist somehow, and he holds her against him, their mouths locked as they move together, Ginny's heart feeling like it might burst at the desperation in his touch.

It's over too soon – Ginny feels his hot wet spunk shooting inside of her as he climaxes, and suddenly the pearls are slack against her skin and Ron is sluggish and heavy, but still shifting inside of her as Ginny claws at his back.

They come down from it together, and Ron falls against her as Ginny's hands fall still on his back. There is a pause, as she cradles Ron against her chest, and the only sound in the room is his panting.

And then Ron's breathing seems to be echoed, and somewhere far away, it occurs to Ginny that Hermione might be awake, now. But her fingers are curled in Ron's hair and their breathing is matched now, as she drifts into sleep.

She knows that in the morning he'll be gone.

*

"What?"


He's come back from it all changed. Ginny always knew he would, knew that she was saying goodbye to him before he left. This isn't her Ron, not anymore.

"Nothing, Ronald."

She nearly cringes as she mimics the way Hermione always addressed him whenever he'd done something wrong.

Ron looks at her like he might hit her, and Ginny wonders for a moment if he will, her fingers tight on the pearls around her neck. The pearls she's never taken off, not since the day he left her.

"We were kids, Ginny," he whispers, and Ginny starts to pull the strands over her head.

"I was," she answers, and Ron's face breaks. She can see it happen in his eyes, watches as the guilt overwhelms him and she wonders how long he has felt guilty about it all. She wonders who has done this to her Ron.

"It was wrong," he says to the floor, and Ginny can't take anymore. She chucks the pearls, those shiny, false promises of love, and they sling their way awkwardly around Ron's face before slipping off and clattering to the floor. He jumps back, startled and stung, and Ginny worries about whether or not they've hurt him. Not nearly as much as they've hurt her.

"It made us happy."


Ron looks up when she speaks, and the pearls are forgotten for a moment in their stare. "I'm your..."

He can't seem to even spit the word out, and Ginny feels her heart sink. "My brother," she finishes, and Ron stares at her in silence. She has been trying to resist the urge to touch him since he came back, since the moment he walked through the door this afternoon. But suddenly it's too much, seeing Ron so broken, confused, so hurt.

She crosses the space between them in short, decisive steps, and she cups his face gingerly in her hands, willing the pain in his eyes to go away. They're just as blue as she remembers, just as easy to read. Before he can pull away, she kisses him, and it's nothing like how she's kissed him before. Ron struggles weakly against her, and Ginny sinks her teeth into his lip, holding him there until she tastes his copper resistance.

Ron manages to pull away then, and she watches him stumble back, wiping the blood from his mouth incredulously. Ginny makes no move to wipe the blood from hers, and takes another step forward.

"What… what happened to you?"

It's difficult to look him in the eye now, because Ginny has found an answer she never wanted to hear. Ron doesn't love her like she loves him. Maybe he never did.

She focuses her attention on the top button of his shirt, gently working it free of the fabric's noose. Ron's chest is moving under her fingers, rising and falling with rapid, anxious breaths. "I waited for you," she answers, as she slips the button free.

"Ginny, I –"


She can't let him complete that sentence. She can't hear about his nights spent with Hermione and Harry, can't let him tell her about how he loved them, how he was never really hers, never really her Ron. She's been waiting for him to come home, through every nightmare, sleeping and waking. She's known that in the end, she'll have him again, to chase the monsters away and wake her up from the torture.

He's staring down at her sadly when he starts again, and she cuts him off, pressing a finger to his lips and asking him, begging him, with her eyes. Ron drops his gaze guiltily, and Ginny drops her hand, slipping it into his.

She leads him to the bedroom, and he follows without complaint, his head ducked in resignation. She takes a seat on the bed and releases his fingers, watching him expectantly as he raises his hands automatically to his shirt buttons. She stares as it slides open, bit by bit, until she can see deep red lines marring his freckled skin.

He still won't look at her, not even when she reaches out a hand to his stomach, traces the lines of his scars with her fingers. He feels so good to touch, so solid and warm and there.

When his shirt has fallen to the floor, he turns his attention to his belt, carefully working it free of the buckle. He stops then, his hands each gripping an end of his belt, and Ginny's hand still resting on his stomach.

"Please, Ron," she whispers, and he closes his eyes as he unfastens his trousers. Even before he tugs them off, she can see that he's hard, and she slides her hand over his bulge without pause. Ron makes a soft noise at her touch, a noise that sounds more like pain than pleasure, and then he's tugged his trousers and shorts the rest of the way down.

Ginny pulls him toward her by his hips, until his cock is bobbing up against her cheek. She kisses him at first, gently brushing her lips along the length of his erection and keeping her fingers firm on his hips. She runs her face against his cock until she's burying her nose in his short bristly hairs, feeling his balls press against her chin, breathing in the scent of him, memorizing the feel of him all over again.

She pulls away, and he's got his eyes closed. She knows he's imagining the other two, and she takes hold of his hand abruptly, pulling him awkwardly down onto the bed with her, forcing him to open his eyes. Ron rolls over so that he's in the center of the bed, and as she straddles his hips, she wonders bitterly if he's used to being in the center.


She can feel his cock pressing eagerly against her knickers, under her skirt, but she's not ready to give him the satisfaction of fucking her again. Instead she toys idly with the knife that's strapped to her thigh, as if she has no intention of tugging her knickers aside and sliding his cock inside of her.

Ron groans as she rocks back against him, teasingly, and he's closed his eyes again, trying to excuse himself for fucking her.

"Did Hermione enjoy the show, then?"

He opens his eyes suddenly at her question, staring at her, his face turning pink in anger. "You knew?"

He's started to struggle underneath her, like he intends on getting up, like he's going to leave her, and Ginny slides a hand under the waist of her skirt. She's felt the blade pressing against her leg with increasing intensity since he's come back, and she's sure that it's cut her now. She can feel the warm, sticky, sharp sensation on her upper thigh, and when the knife is free, she holds it to the light, frowning at the way the blood mars the shininess of the blade.

Ron goes rigid underneath her and Ginny smiles down at him, still holding the knife.

"What are you doing, Gin?"


He's looking at her the way he did when she first tried out for Quidditch, giving her a stare that's half incredulous and half afraid. Ginny lets her hand drop, lets the blade press dully against his stomach as she traces the lines of his scars lightly with the cold metal.

Ron's not saying anything now, only watching her carefully – fearfully – and waiting.

"Was it better with them?"

"Ginny," He starts, but he never finishes his admonition. Ginny tilts the knife against his stomach, letting the edge of the blade drag across his skin, a thin red line following in its wake.

Ron gasps, and Ginny twists the blade, pressing it flat against his skin again, smoothing over the fresh cut with the cool metal of the knife. "Tell me about how they touched you."

Ron is ready to burst into shouting. Ginny can feel it in the way his muscles tense under her and the color his face is turning, but she pushes back against his cock and flattens herself against him, trapping the blade between them as she kisses him. She presses herself firmly against him until the point of the blade is pressing against her, threatening to rip her shirt, and Ron is sputtering against her mouth.

He can deny all he wants, but he's still hard for her.

She lifts her body just enough to tug her shirt off, dropping it carelessly onto the bed beside them as she kisses him again. His skin feels good against hers – hot and firm and slick with sweat, and she can feel a warm, sticky line of blood pressing against her stomach as she slides against him.

Ron manages to slide a hand between them and then he's cursing against her mouth and the knife has been jerked from her hand. She hears it clatter to the floor and she bites down on his lower lip playfully.

Ron's cock is hard against her arse, feels like it might burst through her knickers if she doesn’t tend to it soon, and Ginny can feel how wet she is without touching herself.

Without moving from her current position, she reaches behind her, sliding a hand under her skirt and tugging damp knickers as close to her thigh as she can manage, until her cunt is open and wet, ready for Ron's cock.

She slides forward, kissing him deeply, sliding her tongue over his lazily before pushing herself back, letting Ron's cock head drag against her cunt and feeling him moan into her mouth as he pushes his hips up desperately, his cock slapping up against her wetly.

Ginny grazes his lip with her teeth again as she slides forward, and Ron's hands have snuck down to her thighs, ready to shove her back onto his cock. She can't take anymore of this herself, so she lets him on the next backwards slide she makes.

Ron uses his thick, rough fingers to ply her open as his cock pokes its way eagerly inside of her, and then she's shoving back as hard and fast as she can manage and Ron's groaning as she takes him in.

When she raises herself off of his chest, letting his cock sink deeper into her as she sits back on it, her stomach is sticky and warm with drying blood, and Ron's mouth looks like he's been eating strawberries. He's hers. He's shed blood for her, and it's as much hers as his. She tells him as much as she raises herself off of him, her tits bouncing with every rise and fall.

Ron shifts his hips, arching off of the bed as she rides his cock, pushing herself nearly off of it before driving him deep inside of her again. She grips his hips to keep her balance as she speeds up, a steady smack of skin against skin providing a rhythm to their fucking, and Ron slides his hands up her sides to grab at her tits, moaning with every clench of her cunt and twist of her hips.

"Fuck me, Ron, fuck me hard," she whispers, and Ron's moans become high pitched as he comes, shooting his spunk deep inside of her, and Ginny's still fucking him, dropping a hand to massage her clit in a final, desperate move as she bounces on his cock.

She climaxes then, clenching around his spent cock for all it's worth, Ron's large, boyish hands still massaging her tits as she falls forward against him. She feels his fingers tangling in her hair as their breathing slows together, and she knows that he’ll be there when she wakes up, and that someday, he’ll wake her from her nightmares again.