Learning Together - Ginny/George, R
Title: Learning Together Author: moriath Pairing: Ginny/George Rating: R Word count: Approx. 1,500 Warnings: Spoilers for DH Author's Notes: Woo hoo, my first Weasleycest fic! One of two or three het HP fics I've ever written, and one of the same number of non-pornographic fics. Damn, this is setting records all over the place for me. Summary: Ginny moves in with George to help him with the shop. Over their first year together, she learns more than she ever did at Hogwarts.
She had learned from her mother how to take care of people. She'd watched her mother mend broken bones and kiss stinging elbows. She cooked enormous dinners, making sure everyone would love something on her table every night.
Molly Weasley loved people. Ginny Weasley was still learning how.
She couldn't deny that she resented being the one her mother always sent to visit George at the shop. Ron still lived at home, too, she tried to point out once - and he didn't have to worry about school starting up again in the fall! Molly brushed off her protests and sent Ginny on her way with a casserole or cake.
Ginny hated going to see George. Even though Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was busier than ever now that Voldemort was gone for good, the shop always seemed empty without Fred's exuberant presence matching George's antics every step of the way.
Once the Christmas holidays began, her mother returned Ginny to her summer schedule. Ginny would show up around closing time, put the dinner in the oven in the flat before returning to help George finish with last minute sales or counting up the till.
When George asked - and it was often - Ginny would stay and eat with him. It was always an awkward, quiet meal, however. Nothing like the raucous dinners back when all of the Weasleys lived under the same roof.
"You don't know what it's like to be alone, Gin," George confided one night as she wrapped her winter cloak around her thin shoulders. "I hate being alone."
Ginny looked up into her brother's watery eyes. "Do you…what do you need?"
George shrugged and turned away, going to the kitchen to clean their dishes.
Ginny hesitated at the door. Her mother would have known what to do, but Ginny had a feeling George didn't want his mother to know how he was feeling.
She shrugged out of her cloak and followed George into the kitchen. She helped him clean up, kissed him on the cheek, and promised she would be back soon.
She hadn't made that promise before, but it felt right.
A few hours later, Ginny was knocking at the door of George's flat. She had her school trunk with her, packed with everything she could fit in. She didn't explain why she was back, why she had everything with her, or what she was planning on doing when school started again after the Christmas holidays were over. She simply dragged her trunk into the living room and pulled out a fluffy pillow and thick, homemade blanket to build a makeshift bed for herself.
The message was clear: George wasn't alone anymore. Not entirely.
Ginny ignored the Howlers from their mother demanding that she return to school immediately. She was having fun working in the shop, finally privy to the secrets of how some of the famous Wheezes worked. And she was sure that her presence was helping George a lot more than casseroles did (though she did read a few cookbooks to learn how to make them - both Hermione and her mother would be so proud if they knew).
George often complimented her, telling her she truly had a mind for business. Ginny flushed with pride; it wasn't often her brothers complimented her on anything.
They settled into an easy pattern. They would wake up early to share breakfast before heading down to the shop to greet another day of customers eager for a laugh. They closed up in time to take an early supper before devoting the rest of the evening to researching and developing new products. Unless it was a Hogsmeade Weekend for the Hogwarts students; then they stayed open late with Ginny intermittently hiding in the back room to avoid seeing her old teachers.
Night was the only time their easy routine became awkward. George seemed embarrassed to have his little sister sleeping on his couch. He'd occasionally mumble something about her taking his bed, but Ginny always politely declined.
Neither of them mentioned the second bedroom.
Sometimes Ginny woke up in the middle of the night to find George sitting in the living room with her, staring at her absently from the overstuffed armchair. Sometimes he was crying. She always pretended that she hadn't woken up at all. She knew how her mother made things all better, but that didn't mean Ginny was ready for such a burdensome task.
It was an early spring morning when Ginny woke up to find George still sitting in his chair. He'd been there at least half the night; she'd half-way woken up a couple of times to the now-familiar feeling of being watched. "Hi, George," she whispered, pushing herself up on her elbows.
George stood and went to the kitchen.
Ginny untangled herself from her blankets and pulled down her nightshirt, hastily covering as much skin as she could though she knew it was a futile effort. She went to the kitchen to find George leaning against the counter, his head held in his hands.
Tentatively, Ginny put her arms around his shoulders. They rarely touched, certainly not for any measurable amount of time, but here Ginny clearly had no intention of removing her arms.
It was a simple gesture. A comforting one. So much like their mother's calming touch.
But so much like the easy intimacy he'd had with Fred as well.
George straightened up and turned around in his sister's embrace. "We can't keep going like this, Ginny."
"Why not?" she asked, genuinely puzzled. What was he talking about.
"You've been sleeping on my couch for four months - it isn't right. You should be doing something better. Go back to school. Get a real career."
Ginny frowned. "I love the shop, George. I don't want to do anything. I don't want to be anywhere or with anyone else."
George looked over her head at the kitchen clock. "We're going to be late," he muttered as he slipped out of her embrace. He filled the kettle with water and put it on the stovetop before going to the bathroom to wash up.
Ginny wished her mother were there to make it all better again.
That night, it was Ginny who crept into George's room to watch him sleep, but since it was a small room without extraneous furnishings like chairs she perched on the side of the bed. She drew her knees up to her chest and chewed her lip as she watched her brother toss and turn, calling out occasionally for his lost twin.
Ginny could feel her heart breaking for him.
Eventually sleep overcame her. She lay down on top of the blankets and snuggled close to George, wrapping a comforting arm around him again.
He didn't move for the rest of the night.
It became part of their routine. Wake up together, breakfast in the morning, work in the shop, eat dinner, and then work on new tricks. Then Ginny would wait for George to go to bed and fall asleep before climbing in behind him, holding him close and stroking his hair when the nightmares became stronger than she was.
Ginny didn't remember when it became more than just sleeping and holding each other. Maybe it started with her calming kisses that sometimes missed the intended target of George's cheek and landed on his sleepy lips. Or a needy hug from George that brushed her bottom and crushed her breasts to his chest.
Soon George was staying awake, waiting for Ginny to join him in his bed. She slid under the blankets with him, letting his hands slide up her pajamas at the same time, seeming to find a new bit of sensitive flesh to caress every time.
She kissed him everywhere she could reach, delighted when she discovered places that could make him shiver with pleasure. Sometimes he'd even let out a harsh, short laugh when she found a ticklish place.
She liked those places best.
Shirts and knickers would be discarded, flung carelessly about the room to be picked up whenever they remembered to do housework. Hands and tongues would seek out sensitive, private places, gently coaxing a needed release.
Ginny didn't even mind when George forgot who was there and called out Fred's name. She knew he appreciated her; she didn't need a vocalization to confirm it.
And then they'd collapse in a tired heap, more or less satisfied for the night.
A year after Ginny moved in, George was hardly recognizable as the man she had moved in with. He could joke with his customers again, and was coming up with some of the best ideas yet for the shop. Sometimes Ginny wondered if he still needed her at all.
But then they'd climb into bed together again and - what? Make love? Shag? Comfort? - each other long into the night, Ginny spilling over with love for her brother even if she didn't literally climax, and she knew that even if she wasn't needed, at least she was still wanted.
Molly Weasley had a kiss or a spell that could heal any injury, except the one that had split George in two. To heal that one, it took a very different kind of magic, one that Ginny happened to have enough of to spare.