Title: Inappropriate Usage of the Secret Word
Author: madeyemax
Characters/Pairings: George/Ginny
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Kleptophilia
Other Warnings: Implied twincest
Word Count: 6,256
Summary/Description: After a little accidental theft, Ginny begins to spiral out of control.
Author's Notes: Thanks to pumpkinqueen144 for betaing.



Well, this was becoming ridiculous.

This was Ginny's fifth visit to her older brothers' shop in as many weeks. It had started with a simple mistake, a slip. She'd come back to Britain, after a long season with the Holyhead Harpies, tired and missing her family terribly, and even though she'd been scheduled to go and see everyone at the Burrow the following day, she'd stopped by the twins' shop the day she'd arrived because frankly she'd missed them the most. And somehow, she'd accidentally walked out of the store with a little bottle of vanishing ink in her coat pocket.

She'd discovered it when she'd arrived at home and was, at first, shocked that she could do such a thing without even realising it. Her shock turned to confusion that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes hadn't exploded in a blaring cacophony of security alarms as soon as she'd set foot outside the shop. Her confusion then turned to a strange little tickle just south of her navel, which quickly expanded even further down, up and out, making her cheeks flush with heat.

She'd stolen something.

There'd been no good reason for it. No reason whatsoever.

She'd gotten away with it.

And she'd gotten away with it with Fred and George, two people who could spot a sneak a mile away, right there with her.

At first, she hadn't known what to think of her own bizarre reaction to what she'd done. She decided she'd return the ink in a few days when she found the time to actually go down there again, apologise, explain, and that would be the end of it. But during the next few days, every time she thought about what she'd done, she got that same rather pleasant, tingly feeling.

She tried not to think about her little accidental adventure during the day. She saved those thoughts for when she was alone in her flat and could explore the weird feelings in private. She'd slip into a hot bath with a glass of wine, lie back and close her eyes. She'd let her mind wander back to her brothers' shop, try to pinpoint the exact moment she slipped the bottle into her pocket. It had been a particularly busy day and with her arms loaded up with potion bottles and books that she'd been looking at, she remembered having to free up one of her hands when someone had jostled her on their way past her. That must have been the moment. She'd slipped the bottle into her pocket without thinking and had forgotten it there until it was too late. Just remembering it as she sat there in her tub sent her blood rushing downwards and to the surface of her skin, and her hand wandered up between her legs.

She really should have been ashamed of herself, and she was, but it was also rather thrilling. She held onto the bottle for a few days longer than she'd intended because frankly she was relishing in her little secret. She finally decided to return it on the fifth day, but then she'd received a call from Harry asking if she still had that Quaffle he'd caught during that Chudley Cannons game they'd gone to together a year ago, and she'd wondered why the hell he'd waited until six months after they'd broken up to finally ask for it back, and somewhere between being unpleasantly surprised to hear his voice again and looking for the damn thing, she'd completely forgotten to bring ink bottle with her to the shop.

And then she'd stolen a second item.

And so it began.

The second item was a singing mood ring. The third and fourth items were just as useless to her. She had no interest in any of the things she took, but the thrill she got from nicking them was almost unreal. She'd make small talk with her brothers with the stolen item clutched securely in her hand inside her pocket, nodding and laughing with them as though nothing was different, and the very knowledge that she was getting one over on them, that she had this secret was enough to dampen her panties.

She justified it, made excuses for herself, to herself. She should have felt terrible doing this to her own family, but Fred and George were doing okay. Better than okay; business was booming, and they probably didn't even notice the missing items. And they'd inconvenienced enough people over the years to deserve a little payback, didn't they?

That was what she kept telling herself, trying to make herself believe it. Still, it became harder and harder to look her brothers in the eye.

On the fifth visit, almost a month after the first incident, Ginny finally brought the items back, but not to return them. She was flaunting. She felt bold and adventurous, and waltzing into the shop with stolen merchandise gave her a thrill like nothing else.

"Hey, Gin," said George, who strolled over to her as soon as she stepped inside. "Back again, I see."

"Yep," she mumbled, sweeping her hair behind her ears and avoiding his eyes.

"You know, one of these days you'll have to actually buy something. This is a shop, you know. We sell things. We trade them for legal tender. Didn't you hear?"

"I know, George," she sighed.

"Not that we don't like having you around, of course. It's just that we spent a good chunk of our lives actually living with you, so it's not like we don't know what you're like and all."

"She back?" called Fred from across the room. "Tell her she either buys something in the next ten minutes or we're chucking her."

Ginny glared at him. "You'd kick me out?"

"You're loitering. We need the space for paying customers. We can not get money from you any old time."

"Oh, well, that's nice," Ginny huffed, though the guilt in her chest knotted up even tighter; she had no right to be offended. She pushed past George and stalked further into the shop.

"That's it, go on," George called. "Have a look around –"

"– as if you don't know where everything is already," called Fred.

"We want you to make an informed purchase."

"Mm, key word there being 'purchase'."

"Pair of twats," she muttered to herself. She was beginning to feel less and less guilty by the second.

She reached into her pocket, gripped the mood ring and smiled to herself. They had no idea. They really, truly didn't. How that could be, she wasn't sure, but she counted herself lucky and decided that today would be the final day. Full stop. She was becoming more and more reckless and was beginning to feel completely out of control.

"Hey, Fred," she called, stopping and turning toward her brother. "Mind if I …?" She jerked a thumb at the back of the store, toward the turquoise door marked "Employees Only".

"You can read, can't you?" said Fred, his face deadpan.

"Fred! Come on, I've got to … you know. Loo."

"Fine, fine, go," Fred said with a wave of his hand. He pulled out his wand and flicked it toward the door, unlocking it for her. "Normally we don't let customers back there, but seeing as you never actually buy anything …"

Ginny glared at him, then stalked toward the door. She slipped into the little back room where the employees kept their belongings and hurried through to the dark little hallway that led to the bathrooms. She slipped into the women's and locked herself in.

With a sigh of relief she gripped the porcelain sink and examined her reflection in the mirror. She didn't think she looked any different, but she sure felt different. Not like herself. Better? Special? No, neither of those last two.

Gross and guilty was more like it. No matter how obnoxious Fred and George could be, they didn't deserve this, certainly not from their own baby sister. She'd been closer to them than any other members of the family. She admired them and took after them in many ways. And they went easy on her compared to how they treated everyone else. They'd never been too busy to play with her when they were all little. They'd let her in on their little twin secrets, things they told no one else. She'd kept their secrets and they'd kept hers.

Sometimes, back then, she would get scared at night and crawl into bed with one of them, usually George because he didn't snore nearly as loudly as Fred. She'd cuddle with him and he'd whisper stories and jokes to her in the dark. He'd tell her about all the cool things they were going to do once they made it through the night without being eaten by monsters or burned alive by lightning. And Fred, if he woke up, would do the same, entertaining her with impromptu sock puppet shows and rude noises. And sometimes, if Fred didn't wake up, she and George played their own secret game, the one Fred didn't know about. They'd pick a secret word, one that was unlikely to come up in conversation. The actual game couldn't start until everyone was awake, but the secret word had to be chosen at night because it was the only time Fred and George were essentially separated. Throughout the day, George and Ginny would work the secret word into conversation as inconspicuously as possible, and when one of them said it, the other would have to do something, like pat their own head or cough three times or something like that, and hope no one noticed the strange behaviour. Once someone noticed something was up, the game was over and a new secret word had to be chosen.

Ginny smiled to herself at that memory. Fred and George had looked out for her all her life. They were good brothers. She was the twat. A complete and utter twat.

She set her bag down in the sink and peered inside. There they were, all the merchandise she'd nicked. With a heavy sigh she reached in and picked up the ink bottle. Such an innocent looking thing, it was. Who'd have known that such an innocuous object could not only kick off a theft spree, but also cause waves of arousal to pulse through a person.

Ginny tugged at her shirt collar as her skin began to heat. This wasn't normal. Stealing shouldn't do this to a person. She shut her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself down, trying to picture the least arousing things she could think of. Family, she thought. She could think of her family. Family wasn't sexy. Except …

All her brothers were very good looking. Even Percy had a weird, almost delicate attractiveness about him if you squinted at him just right. She'd grown up in a house full of men in varying states of sexual maturity. And while it had been a rather fascinating education into the lives and minds of boys, it really wasn't helping Ginny in that moment.

Dammit, think of something else! she thought, but it was too late. She saw shirtless boys in their underpants grumbling through the house on a Saturday morning, bodies clearly blossoming with broad shoulders and thick biceps, long, gangly limbs and comically large hands and feet. Voices dropped, becoming strange and unrecognisable at first, but then becoming familiar and soothing and, god help her, even sexy in some cases. Ginny had become familiar with the concept of the morning erection with boys roaming the house unaware of their little sister's prying eyes. She'd heard a thing or two, the obvious sounds of self pleasure here and there, and had always secretly wished that she could have a peek.

She dashed into the bathroom stall, slammed the door shut and locked it. She hung her bag on the hook on the door and plunked herself down on the toilet. She spread her legs and slipped a hand up underneath her skirt, into her panties, fingers slipping into her slit. She was as wet now as she'd ever been and her fingertip slid easily over her clit. She leaned back against the toilet tank and spread open as wide as she could in the narrow stall. She shut her eyes and pictured her brothers' bouncing bits as they each walked by in her head, wearing nothing but boxers or pyjama pants that draped over their privates like gauze.

It was George who stopped before her first, and then Fred. They smiled warmly at her, and then Fred positioned himself behind George, just a little to the side so Ginny could still see him. He reached around and took hold of George's waistband and pulled it down. And there was George. Ginny had never actually seen either of them naked, but she could paint awfully vivid mental images of what they might look like down there; long and flushed deepest pink.

She saw George hardening as Fred played with him and then the twins were kissing, and Ginny was certain that they really did this together, she knew she'd heard things coming from their room at night, not the usual explosions, but soft noises, breathy noises.

There was a soft click and Ginny froze. Her eyes flew open, her hand stilled in her panties and she caught her breath and held it. She'd been panting. Had it been loud enough to be heard outside the bathroom? And who was trying to get in? A closed door meant there was someone inside, didn't people know that? Well, no matter; the door was locked anyway, so no one was going to get inside.

There was a louder click and then a creak as the door glided open. Ginny's eyes widened.

"Uh, someone's in here," she called.

"I know," said a familiar voice. "'S why I'm here, innit?"

"George!"

Ginny stood up and grabbed some toilet paper to wipe her fingers as she burst out of the stall.

"What the hell are you doing? How did you get in? I locked that door!"

George was standing before the door with his arms folded, his wand clutched in one hand, and no expression on his face. "Thought I'd sneak up on you. See if I could catch you in the act."

"Catch me in the … What are you on about?"

"You know." He stepped closer, trying to look her in the eye, though she wouldn't let him. "We both know, Gin. Me and Fred. Why do you think the alarms haven't been going off when you leave? I've been shutting them off just before you exit to save you the embarrassment. Was an accident the first time; Fred was doing something with them, adjusting them, making them louder and more obnoxious, and you picked that exact moment to leave the store. That was the night we noticed we were short one ink bottle. Next time you showed up, we still hadn't worked out that it had been you who'd nicked the ink in the first place, but then we actually saw you take something and we shut off the alarm again rather than confront you or let you get caught. This time we saw you coming and shut it off before you reached the door because we had a hunch. Were we right?"

She hesitated, then decided not to answer that at all. "But why, George? Why wouldn't you let me get caught?"

George shrugged. "We didn't want to embarrass you. We were more shocked than anything else. And a little hurt, I s'pose. Really we just want to know what's up with our little sis."

Ginny looked at the floor. She knew she looked guilty. Years of hanging out with the twins should have taught her how to lie better than this, but she couldn't keep up the act, not when George looked at her like that. If it had been anyone else, it would have been easier. But this was George. This was different.

"What's up, Gin?" George asked quietly. "You going through something?"

He didn't sound angry at all, and that just made her feel worse.

"Dunno," she mumbled. "Maybe. It was an accident the first time, I swear it." She met his eyes now, her own pleading with him. "The ink bottle was in my pocket, I put it there to keep it out of the way while I looked around, and then when I got home it was still there and I hadn't meant to take it, but then I realised I had and … and …"

"And you kinda liked that you'd taken it."

"Yes, but it was different than it has been before. I've taken things that didn't belong to me, but there was always a good reason, like the time me and Neville and Luna tried to steal Gryffindor's sword from the Headmaster's office at school. I didn't feel anything then, except righteous indignation, it was for a noble cause. This was just accidental stealing, but for some reason I got all … I dunno, I can't even explain it."

"Try," George said gently. "If you've developed some kind of problem, I need to understand it."

"How do you know I've developed a problem? How do you know I haven't just gotten a taste for stealing?"

"Because you're stealing from us. I know you wouldn't do that unless you couldn't help it. You're not possessed or anything, are you?"

Ginny sighed. "No. No, it's not that. I know exactly what I'm doing when I'm doing it, and I remember everything afterwards. No, this is different, this is … exciting."

"Mm, I can tell. You're all flushed." George frowned and cocked his head. "What were you doing in there when I came in?"

"What? Nothing, just toilet stuff."

"Liar."

"Am not."

"Are. You're a lying liar who lies, that's what you are." He grinned at her. "Exciting how, exactly?"

"George, come on," she mumbled, turning even redder than she already was. She looked away and folded her arms. "What exactly are you asking me?"

"You know what I'm asking. Hey, if it's what it sounds like it is, you can tell me. I won't make fun."

She felt his hand on her shoulder and looked up at him again. He wasn't smiling anymore. He simply looked curious and a little concerned.

"George," she whispered. "I don't know why this is happening. It's weird."

"Let me ask you something: when was the last time you got laid?"

"George!" Ginny shrieked, shrugging his hand off her.

George held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, relax. The last thing I want to do is encourage my little sister to engage in adult activities. However, seeing as you are an adult now, I can't really stop you. How long's it been, Gin? Six, seven months since you broke up with Harry?"

Ginny frowned at his astuteness. "Yes. What of it?"

"You haven't been with anyone else, have you?"

"George, you're being weird."

"When's the last time someone kissed you? Or even just hugged you?"

"Your point, George."

"My point is you're alone all the time these days. Ever since you and Harry called it quits, all you do is work and hang out by yourself."

"I don't have time for a social life. I've got a career."

"It ain't Quidditch season anymore."

"Still. I've got to train and keep in shape. It takes up a lot of my time, you know."

"I think you might be depressed."

"Oh, I am not!" she huffed, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, you would say that." George glanced at the stall. "Shall I leave you to it, then? Let you finish?"

She winced at that. "No, I don't need to finish. The moment's passed." She took a deep breath, exhaled, and rolled her shoulders, trying to work out the tension that was seeping into them.

"You've been so relaxed lately," he said, watching her. "'Til just now, that is. This whole stealing thing is the reason why, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess. Bollocks!" she cursed, turning away from him and pacing around the small space. "This is ridiculous."

"Maybe. But do you think you need help, Gin?"

"No! No, I don't need help. I can stop. It's not that big a deal. I just need … I just need …"

"Sex."

She stopped pacing and looked at him. His gaze was soft and concerned, without even a hint of mirth. She said nothing, only stared back, unable to keep her eye from wandering downward and taking in his body. His robes were parted, letting her see the way he filled out his trousers. She shook her head and looked away, disgusted with herself for being so blatant and uncontrollable.

"Maybe I do need help," she muttered to herself.

"Yeah, I reckon," George sighed. She glanced at him and saw him flick his wand at the door to lock it. "There. No one's getting through that."

"What are you doing?"

"You still do it," he said as he tucked his wand away and approached her. "Look at us like that. With that curiosity."

She took a step back. "What are you talking about?"

"It's okay. It's cute, actually. Look, Gin, if you want, we could … I mean, I could … give you a hand. Heh, no pun intended there."

Her eyes widened. "Are you mad?"

"No. Are you? You're the one stealing and getting off on it."

She glared at him. "That's insensitive, George."

"Sorry, sorry. Okay, look, I'm gonna go into the men's and wait there for five minutes. If you want … something, you can come on in and … we'll … do stuff."

"You're serious," she said in disbelief.

"Yes, I am, and you'd better stop talking before I change my mind. If you're not interested, you can just go. Leave the shop. I warn you, though, we're leaving the alarm on this time, so if you've got anything on you, you might want to take it out and leave it some place inconspicuous. We'll let you do that this time, just stick the things somewhere in the store and take off, no questions. But this is the last time, Gin. No more. If you've got a problem, you need to deal with it."

"I haven't the faintest idea how to deal with this, George."

"Well, I can think of one way."

She snorted. "What, shag you?"

George shrugged. "Well, shag somebody."

"But you're the one offering."

George shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't mind helping you out," he said sheepishly. "I know it's weird and probably a little creepy, I know, but I just … we've always been so close to you, and you were always … looking. And we didn't mind it. In fact, we kinda liked it, so … Look, I'll be next door. If I don't see you in five, I'll assume you've gone." At that he turned, unlocked the door and slipped out.

"You're mental!" she called after him. He didn't respond. She stood there in the deafening silence, not moving for a long while, staring at the tiled floor and trying to work out what had just happened.

The world was completely upside down; she was a thief and George was offering to have sex with her, which she'd often fantasised about, sure, but the reality was something very different. And was she really going to have sex here, in a shop bathroom? Really? How had any of this happened?

She slung her bag over her shoulder and marched out of the room, hung a right and went straight into the men's bathroom. She had every intention of telling George off and telling him he was lucky she didn't plan on telling on him for being a sicko, but when she set foot in the second bathroom and saw him standing there, she stopped dead. He'd taken his robes off and hung them over the stall door. He was leaning against the far wall, arms folded, the curve of muscle at each of his biceps mostly exposed now, as he was only wearing a t-shirt. The right muscle twitched slightly when he saw her and he straightened up, instantly and obviously nervous.

"Didn't think you'd come," he said, his voice soft and low in the silence.

She went right up to him and looked up into his eyes. "How long have you wanted this?" she demanded, though her voice was soft too.

"Dunno. Does it matter? Put your bag down." He retrieved his wand from his pocket and locked the door.

"George, I …" she began, but something stopped her. She had been about to tell him no, that this wasn't going to happen, but he was standing so close and he was so warm and smelled so good and so familiar, and then after he'd put his wand away, his hands were cupping her face and his lips were parting and he was leaning down and tilting her face up, and she didn't stop him. She couldn't stop him.

She was kissing him back almost immediately, parting her lips and letting his tongue inside. Her entire body seemed to sigh with relief and she leaned against him, letting herself relax into his firm embrace, her arms going up and around his neck, hands feeling the thickness of it. God, this was her older brother, she thought. But this was also a very sweet, attractive and healthy young man, and she wanted him. She couldn't deny it. She wanted him.

But not here. Not like this.

"George, stop."

"Huh?" He opened his eyes and looked down at her. He looked damn good like this, all horny and slightly dazed. She reached up and brushed his hair out of his pretty blue eyes.

"I don't want it to happen like this," she said. "Not here."

"But you do want it to happen, yeah?"

She swallowed and nodded. "Yes."

"Do you want Fred to join? You can come over tonight if you want. If not, I can come to your place. We can have dinner and then …"

They were kissing again and Ginny could barely bring herself to stop it, but she managed to.

"George, stop, please, let me think. I … I don't know. Fred? He'd want to?"

"Sure, he would."

"How many times have you two discussed this?"

"We can talk about that later. Look, here." He got his wand and pointed it at the small counter top along the wall next to the sink. The surface was suddenly wrapped in a soft, pillowy cover. "Hope on up there."

"What for?"

"I don't blame you for not wanting to do anything too involved here, but I can't let you walk away with nothing. You'll get all tense again and end up nicking something from someone far less forgiving than Fred and me. Hop on up."

"Oh, George," she said, finally getting his meaning. "No, really –"

"Ginny, please. Let me help you."

And Ginny realised that George wanted this as much as she did, if not more. She wanted to ask again when, how, how long, but she knew he wouldn't answer, not now. And besides, the look in his eyes was making her palms sweat; this was no time for questions.

She dropped her bag on the floor and, without taking her eyes off his, she reached underneath her skirt and pulled her panties off. She watched his eyes follow them down, then she stepped out of them and dropped them into her bag. She felt bold and sexy, and a little bit sick, but in a wonderful sort of way, and she lifted her skirt to show him the thatch of ginger hair at her crotch. She hadn't trimmed it in forever, hadn't had any reason to since becoming single again, but George didn't seem to care. He stared with a hot hunger she'd never seen in her brother's eyes before. She bit her lip and let him look.

He stepped toward her and gently placed a hand over her crotch while the other hand went around to press flat against her lower back. He looked into her eyes again and held her gaze as he slipped a finger into her wetness. She felt her own breath quiver on its way into her lungs.

She stepped back away from him, then, backed up to the counter and hopped up onto it. She spread her thighs wide apart, leaned back against the wall and lifted her skirt for him, making sure she was seated as close to the edge as possible. He went to her, crouched down and leaned in to give her a lick. She gasped, her body jerking as his tongue made a swipe over her clit. He took the hint beautifully and eased up on the pressure, swirling his tongue around the most sensitive part of her rather than over it.

She looked down at him. It was George down there all right. She felt strange and out of body, like none of this was actually happening. But it was. He hummed against her in a soft, breathy way that she knew she'd heard before, heard it in the dead of night coming from the twins' room. George was no stranger to incestuous behaviour.

He couldn't have been comfortable crouching like that, but he didn't complain and he barely shifted. George was good; gentle and tender, and Ginny wondered how many girls he'd done this to, because he clearly knew exactly what he was doing. In no time, he had her on the verge of climax, her thighs quivering, her fingers knotted in his hair, her head pressed back against the wall, eyes shut tight, voice rising as his tongue laved her and his fingers probed her. She was going to come. Her brother was going to make her come. And by the time he did, she was relishing in it. By the time she tensed all over and finally climaxed, she couldn't see a thing wrong with having her brother's tongue buried in her like this. For a few seconds, the whole thing made perfect sense, felt right, was right, and she had a feeling that neither one of them could let this be the one and only time this happened.

He stopped licking and fingering her at just the right time, just when she became almost painfully over-sensitive. He wiped his mouth and stood up, his eyes still tinged with heat, but subtly so, and searching hers for signs of trouble. She closed her legs and sat there a moment, looking around the room as though expecting things to look different.

"You all right?" He asked, stepping a bit closer.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "More relaxed at least." She gave him a wry smile, which he returned, but she could tell he was still checking up on her, making sure she was okay. She sighed. "George, I'm fine. Move, will you?" She slid down off the counter before he could help her, bent and picked up her bag and straightened up again. "You might wanna wash up before you go back to work, by the way."

"Right," he said absently. "Ginny –"

"George. I'm fine. Okay?" She straightened her clothes and was about to turn and leave, maybe call back to him that she'd be in touch later that day when he was finished work, but she stayed rooted to the spot.

"Can I ask you something?" she finally said.

"Sure. Anything."

"What was it like after the first time with Fred?"

She thought he might be upset by the question, but to her relief he smiled. "Well, the first time with Fred was about a million years ago, Gin. We were practically kids. And besides, it's not the same."

"What's not?"

"Me and Fred, and you and me. Two completely different things. You can't compare 'em."

"Oh. One of those twin things, I guess."

"Yeah."

She hesitated again. "George?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'd like to see you tonight. Just you. If that's all right."

He gave her a hesitant smile as though afraid to celebrate just yet. "I can swing by your place anytime after work."

"Great. Um … don't tell Fred."

"Nah, 'course I won't."

She cocked her head. "George, I know you tell him everything. Just don't tell him yet, okay?"

"I won't, I promise. But, the thing is … he might know. Soon as I go out there, he might know."

She nodded. "Yeah, I figured. If he works it out and won't let up about it, then you can tell him, but just be discreet."

He frowned. "Well, obviously."

"Okay, then. Um, I'm gonna go."

He nodded and shuffled his feet. "Yeah, all right. Hey, um, do you feel any better?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess. Although we may have opened up a whole new set of problems."

He smiled too and scratched the back of his neck. "Heh, yeah. Sorry about that."

She shook her head to tell him it was okay, then stared at him for a moment, knowing she needed to go, that he needed to, too, that someone would probably come looking for him soon. So, she stepped up to him and gave him a hug goodbye, closing her eyes and squeezing him. He embraced her and kissed the top of her head.

"You always took care of me," she whispered.

"Well, I tried."

"You did good. Always." She pulled back a bit and looked up at him. "I'm sorry about the whole stealing thing."

"Yeah, well, you're just fucked up, ain't ya?" he said, rumpling her hair and making her scrunch up her face in annoyance, but only for a moment.

"Wow," she said staring at him. "You're a man, aren't you?"

"Last time I checked."

She felt his shoulders and his arms and his chest. "Still can't believe it sometimes. It's weird."

"Yeah? How do you think I felt when you got tits?"

She grinned and punched his arm. "Not nearly as annoyed as I was, I can tell you that."

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Ginny leaned up and kissed him again, slowly, softly.

"I can't always admit it," she whispered against his mouth, "but I need this." She squeezed his broad shoulders and firm arms as she spoke. "Sometimes I just … I just need this, and it's so hard to say it sometimes."

"You never used to ask," he whispered back. "When you needed me, you just came to me and got in bed."

"Yes, well, I can't very well do that nowadays, can I?"

"No. There's always the secret word, though. Remember that?"

She grinned. "That would be inappropriate usage of the secret word, George."

"Yeah, well, times change, Gin. We're adults now."

"Soooo, I can just work the word 'chizpurfle' into casual conversation, and … you'll know what I want."

George grinned. "Yep. That's how it works. And you won't have to actually say what it is you want and no one'll be the wiser."

She grinned, and so did he, and he leaned over and pressed his forehead to hers.

"I won't tell if you won't," she whispered.

"Promise?" he asked, holding up a hand with his pinkie finger extended. She grasped it with her own pinkie.

"Promise. Okay, I've got to go."

"Yeah, I've gotta get back out there. I'll walk you out."

When they emerged back out onto the store's main floor, Fred spotted them immediately and frowned at them.

"Oi!" he called, marching over to them. "Where've you two been?"

"We were just talking," George said calmly. "Keep your hair on, everything's all worked out now."

"Oh?" Fred looked at Ginny with curiosity, but said nothing, a hint of worry tingeing his gaze. Ginny, however, was thoroughly over it all and didn't mind admitting to her deeds. After all, she had no intentions of ever doing it again.

"Here you go," she declared, pulling the five items out of her bag and handing them all to Fred, who looked stunned. "That's all I took. I apologise to you both. It was a stupid, stupid thing I did. I was, er, going through … a thing. It won't happen again."

"Yeah?" said Fred. "How do we know that?"

"Fred," George said gently, touching his twin's shoulder. "It won't."

"Right," said Ginny. "I'm off, then. Bye, guys." She spun around and headed for the door, but then Fred called to her.

"Hang on. That's it? You spend over a month stealing from us and all we get is 'Oh, I'm sorry, won't happen again, see ya'? I think we deserve a better explanation than that, young lady. Where do you think you're off to so quickly?"

"Erm …" Ginny hesitated, eyes darting to George's face. George opened his mouth to say something to Fred, but Ginny cut in. "My neighbour. He's got this pet Kneazle, you know, and, um, it has a nasty case of chizpurfles."

George snorted as he stifled a laugh. Fred shot him a confused look.

"Just dreadful, really," Ginny continued. "Said I'd help him shampoo the poor little thing this evening, so I've really got to run. Later." She winked at George, who winked back, and then left the shop.

END