Brotherly, Sisterly

Charlie had always been Ginny's favorite brother.

Of course she loved them all, even Percy, work-obsessed, who rarely left his room, even in the summer, even over Christmas.

And Bill, who was sweet, who would come home suntanned and freckled and would bring her little presents from where ever he was last, working for Gringotts.

And Fred and George, too alike to be separated, who would always make her laugh.

And Ron, sweet Ron, who could be a prat, who could be over-protective, loved her more than anything, and in later years, he would be the one she would come closest to, when their family was ripped apart by Voldemort.

But Charlie, Charlie was her favorite. When he came home from Romania, she would fly down the stairs and into his arms and he would scoop her up and spin her around and kiss her forehead. And as soon as their mother stopped clucking over his burns, he would take Ginny and set her down on his knee and tell her stories about the dragons, about the people he knew, about a beautiful princess named Ginny who lived in a big beautiful castle and had long gorgeous copper curly hair.

The summer after her first year, when she was sick with rage and shame about how seriously she had fucked up and would wake up every night screaming, her nightgown clinging to her in a cold sweat, Charlie came home.

Most nights, he would sit with her, sometimes Ron, sometimes her Mum or Dad, sometimes Fred and George, but never Percy.

Until that one night, and she sat up for the first time that summer in something other than scared-shitless-weak-in-the-knees-heart-pounding-hair-raising fear.

This time, she sat up with pure bewilderment, waken from the throes of nightmares by the sound of her door creaking gently open.

"Percy?" she asked, voice incredulous.

"I'm here," he said, stepped foward into her room, ran a hand through his untidy hair. His skin was pale from summer days spent locked in his room. He walked over and sat on the edge of her pretty white eyeleted bed. She laid back down and looked up at him. He stroked her forehead gently.

"You're so pretty, Ginny," he said, softly.

She shivered from his words; only a month ago had Tom uttered the same to her. But Percy smiled at her, and she smiled back, wavering as it was.

Percy looked at her. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, stroking her hair now.

"Okay," she said with some uncertainty. She pushed herself up.

"But Ginny," he said, "I don't want to kiss you there, I want to kiss you here." He reached his hand up underneath her pale pink cotton nightie and touched her pussy gently.

"Oh..."

"You promised," he wheedled

"Well...I guess..."

"Lay back down," he told her, and she did. He slid up her nightie and slid down her girlish blue panties and studied what was before him for a moment. Her hair there was ginger rather than copper, and kinkily curled.

He bent his head and kissed it, softly, and stuck out his tongue and swirled it around. Ginny's milky white thighs shivered against his shoulders, and he took them and spread them apart, probing with his wet hot velvet and she moaned, but softly, so she wouldn't be heard.

A few minutes after he began, she came, and he lifted his head with a slight smile and pulled up her panties and pulled down her nightie and kissed her gently on the mouth, wetting her lips with her own juices.

"Goodnight, Ginny," he said.

"'Night, Percy," she murmured sleepily.

He crept out of her room and shut the door gently.

Ginny slept the rest of the night through for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

finis.