InsaneJournal

[Fic] Red Destruction (Ginny/Ron, NC-17)
Title: Red Destruction
Author: Envinyatar (aka envinyatar15)
Pairing: Ginny/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: non-con, incest
Word Count: 1,160
Summary: Take her. Mark her. Destroy her, the red fog lingering at the edge of his vision tells him as he lays eyes on her from across the room.

Notes: Every once in a while I write for someone's birthday... Happy birthday, siriuslysnogged! You said you'd like to see something dark - dub/non con, forced orgasms, mindfuckery, Ron/Ginny, Harry/Sirius, Hermione/Snape, Hermione/Sirius, Hermione/Remus. My first idea was: established relationship with supposed adultery in which Hermione and Remus got to talk. Right muse! Where's the darkness in that, I ask you? So, what you actually get is this, totally unbeta'd (so beware, the usual non-native warning applies...) and probably sucky and a concept I would have liked to explore more in depth. Heh. Enjoy? Or something ;) Originally posted here, May 1, 2007.

For 50scenes: #45 coarse, 15pairings: #07 devil's advocate


“Hey Ron,” Ginny casually throws at him when they meet downstairs in the middle of the night. “Can't sleep either?”

She thinks it's coincidence they're both in the kitchen, but really it's not.

Take her. Mark her. Destroy her, the red fog lingering at the edge of his vision tells him as he lays eyes on her from across the room. He knew she'd be down there, but why he can't say. An inexplicable awareness of her has settled in him since they have returned to the Burrow for the summer, the voice growing more insistent with each passing day, but he hasn't explored the occurrence. Thought is beyond him now anyway; the fog controls him, and take her, mark her, destroy her is his mantra, continuously running through his head.

After a second of processing that an answer is needed from him – if he acted odd she'd look at his eyes too closely, and it's what the fog tells him to avoid at all costs – he nods. “Yeah, can't sleep.”

He watches Ginny look into the fridge searching for something to eat, his eyes following her every move, and with each passing second his urge grows stronger. Do it. Now! He couldn't resist the command even if he wanted to, which doesn't occur to him. He walks forward, one step, two, until he stands directly behind her, feeling the heat of the body in front of him. The red fog is domineering his vision now, he shakes, and he doesn't see his sister as he roughly grabs her by the elbow and spins her around.

“Ron!” she exclaims, her eyes spitting fire, but her rage only fuels his – she's his sister and she will obey him; she never did, the little bitch. “What -” His large hand covers her mouth and nose, cutting her off.

Take her. Mark her. Destroy her.

“I will,” he growls. He doesn't see Ginny's eyes widen in shock as he pushes her against the counter, nor does he take notice of her laboured breathing as he wandlessly binds her and casts Silencio before she can react with anything more than suprise. Only then does he take his hand away from her mouth – now she can scream all she wants; no one will hear. No one will come to her rescue.

Half-heartedly she tries to fight him, confusion in her eyes. Her trashing manages to penetrate the fog, going through to him, and one moment Ron asks himself what he's doing. The next, though, the voice is back and pushes his doubts away; the fog takes over again. Take her. Mark her. Destroy her. Ron banishes first his clothes, then his sister's. He's prepared for it when she tries to flee when it becomes obvious what he's about to do, but his hold on her is strong, uncaring of whether he might hurt her.

“Ungrateful bitch,” Ron says through clenched teeth, his eyes flaring with raw anger.

He is out to take her, mark her and destroy her, guarded by the red fog. It's what she deserves, it tells him. And the red fog doesn't lie, it never lies; Ron knows it's trustworthy.

He already is erect, blood boiling in his veins and pounding in his ears. With bared teeth and cold madness in his eyes, he pulls Ginny down to the floor with him, covering her body with his. She tries to keep her legs together, but with tremendous force he pushes them apart, immediately sliding between them. She wriggles underneath him, fights with all her weapons, but it's not enough, Ron is more powerful and holds her down.

She is shaking from fear and rage and everything in between; she's had a chance to look at his eyes by now, Ron knows, but it doesn't matter any longer what she sees there, only her warm body does. When realization hits, she stops fighting for a second, and that's all he needs to push forward into her dry entrance. She cries out when he enters her, her fingernails painfully scratching along his back, but he doesn't allow himself to feel it. It's what the red fog expects of him, and nothing else counts.

He moves with powerfulful thrusts and doesn't keep going longer than a couple of minutes until he spills himself in her, overwhelmed by the feeling of being inside a woman's body for the very first time.

Take her. Mark her. Destroy her.

“I have,” he cries out as orgasm hits him and he arches over her, the sensation flooding him away on a red wave. Then all of a sudden, the fog clears as he slumps down on top of her.

He needs a few moments to collect himself and come back to reality. When he does, the second thing he does is cry out in horror.

The first is notice who it actually is underneath him, and what he's done to her.

Ginny. Your sister.

Ron scrambles to his feet and away from her as far and quickly as possible, his eyes widening as an unspeakable terror grabs hold of his lungs and squeezes all the air out. “Oh god oh god oh god” is on his lips, but it never makes it out into the air.

Ginny is shaking, tears silently making their way down her flushed face. “Ron,” she says as she curls up in herself. The sound stills him, shocking as it is that she's still speaking to him: that thought penetrates his mind even although panic robs him of any rationality beyond that.

He crawls to her, tears of his own running down his cheeks as he reaches out one trembling hand to Ginny's face. When he touches her the first sob escapes his chest, and for the second time that evening he feels flooded away as it becomes difficult to breathe. “I'm so sorry, gods I'm so sorry,” he says, his voice barely audible.

She squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to control her tears, but in vain. “I know,” she whispers, letting him touch her cheek. “I know.”

This is the way morning finds them: naked in the kitchen, Ginny – red and blue and yellow in places she shouldn't be – curled up like a foetus and Ron beside her, his hand now clutched in hers. A gasp of horror wakes them.

When they face their family and friends, a lot of explaining is to be done, and the only answer they have is “Imperius”.

Ron is glad they know as much – they know he hasn't done it by himself. He never could have. He loves his sister, but not ever in that way. And because the two of them know it and accept it – which doesn't make it any less painful since it has still happened, and nothing can change that – the red fog hasn't succeeded.

Ron has taken his sister. He has marked her.

What he didn't do, though, is destroy her.