pearwaldorf | (no subject)

Umm, yeah. Weasleycest. Unhappy, don't click if you're squeamish, etc. Hard to write, easier to critique, hopefully.

She was always a quiet little girl, or so her parents said. When she was born, her father told her, they weren't sure if she was breathing, the way she hadn't made a sound. The doctor had to slap her before she cried, a big lusty wail that seemed almost too big for her tiny body.

Sometimes, it seemed like the only way to get noticed was to be louder than the rest. With five boys in the family, all boisterous, all noisy, it was easy for Ginny to get lost in the shuffle. And oftentimes, she did.

The door opened. Being the only girl, she had her own room, and that was fine by her. In the Burrow, where almost nothing was quiet, she treasured the little stillness she was able to find. In the silence, however, was also where the worst things happened.

She could hear his footsteps and knew what was coming. The clink of the belt, the zipper coming down, the hard *thing* he forced into her mouth and moved, back and forth, as the tears leaked down her cheeks, mingling with the bitter fluid that spurted out of him. He pushed her head back with such force she collapsed onto the floor, trembling. As he'd done the first time and every time afterwards, he whispered into her ear about how Mummy and Dad really hated her; why else would they let it happen? how she was horrible and filthy and unclean, and nobody would ever believe her if she told them, no matter how loud she screamed. He closed the door behind him, off to do whatever else Head Boys do when they're not at school.

She crawled into her bed, shaking even more violently than before, and wept. Even crying she didn't make a sound.