Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, it's characters, or anything Harry Potter related, nor am I making money off of this.

A/N: I've already been asked to leave the fandom, so why not? Hell in a hand basket, afterall.

The moral of the story: I don't know, it's something to do with toothpaste and Pumpkin Pie.

"Now, see here Ginny," Ron lectured. Anything he said to Ginny was lecture, ever since he was old enough to realize that he could, being older and all.

Ginny bit back an inward groan as Ron continued, his hands on his hips in a strange facsimile of their mother on her good days. "Harry's a very busy guy, what with the prophecy, the weight of the world on his shoulders, all that. He's got to fix the ministry, kill the Death Eaters-"

"Naturally, by himself," Ginny muttered under her breath, but Ron didn't notice, as he tended not to.

"-and he doesn't have time to be snogging with teenagers, or any other distractions. So, it's best if you just let him be, yeah?"

"What does it matter to you?" Ginny asked, her voice seemingly coming out upside down as she hung over the side of her bed, blood quickly rushing to her head and her braid brushing the ground.

"It doesn't!" Ron immediately took the defense. "I'm just saying, is all. As his unofficial bodyguard, I've got to take care of things like this. In short, I'll do anything in my power to keep you away from him." He added, as an afterthought, "For the time being."

"Oh?" Ginny was genuinely interested now. She rolled right side up and propped her self up on her elbows. "What will you do about it?"

Perhaps her voice was too deep, because Ron turned red and started sputtering, unable to get out anything intelligible. He seemed to think otherwise, nodded thoughtfully and looked to her for a reply.

She bit her bottom lip and kicked her ankles in the air. He bumped his fist against his thigh and coughed.

"Fred and George used to shag all the time," she said helpfully.

"I should hope so," Ron said.

"With each other," Ginny clarified.

Ron choked on his tongue, which Ginny would have found amusing if she didn't want said tongue to be occupied with other things.

"Is there, er," Ron asked, his voice sounding more like a cross between a toad and a mouse than a Weasley, "anything else I should know about my family?"

"Bill and Charlie taught them," Ginny answered.

"Percy?" Ron squeaked.

"Couch wasn't the only reason he left."


"I'm seeing a pattern here," Ginny said, hopping off the bed.

"Huh?" Ron echoed, still wrapping his mind around the fact that all of his male siblings were incestuous.

"Give me a reason," Ginny said, pressing herself up against her stunned brother, "to leave Harry alone."

"That's incest!" he pointed out what could only be the obvious. "Only Purebloods do that!"

"We are Purebloods," she deadpanned, wondering if he realized she had breasts.

"That's hardly an excuse!" His voiced wavered, he wondered if she realized that she had breasts.

"Our entire family practiced it," she reasoned. "There must be some reason to it!"

"Everyone knows," Ron said, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her an arm's length away, but hardly letting go, "that Fred and George were hardly right in the head." His voice was soft and almost regretful.

Her voice was equally sad. "I don't think anyone's right in the head anymore."

Ron took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. He looked to the ground, then once over his shoulder into the hallway. He shrugged and let her go, letting her fall back into his chest, wondering if always being the alternative (again) was the right thing.

As Ginny's lips met his, he decided that his brothers, late and otherwise, had the right idea, keeping it in the family.

Well, I feel nice and dirty. Do you feel dirty? I do. I think I'm going to go take a shower.