Chapter Text
It was a well-kept secret in the Weasley household that Ginny Weasley, beloved youngest daughter, was conceived during an affair. Mr. Weasley had flooed home for lunch that fateful day and investigated a mysterious thumping coming from upstairs. To his shock, he’d found his wife in a rather compromising position with a man from a shop they frequented in Diagon Alley.
Arthur would never forget the sounds of their passion rising to a crescendo as he’d opened the door. Molly’s shrieking moan as she saw Arthur mid-orgasm spurred the man on and he’d finished inside her before he even realized they’d been caught.
Molly begged Arthur for forgiveness after he’d thrown her lover unceremoniously into the Floo. She promised never to see him again and for some reason he’d agreed.
Three months later, Molly announced that she was pregnant with a daughter. He had smiled and kissed his wife’s cheek in front of family, affectionately touching her tummy as she began to show, but Arthur knew. They both knew. They hadn’t been together in that way for months when he’d discovered her affair, and he certainly hadn’t slept with her after.
When they welcomed Ginny one warm August evening, Arthur had been ready to commit to a life of being reminded daily of his wife’s infidelity. But then she’d arrived, a perfect ball of pale skin and red fuzz that nearly made his heart stop. He was wrapped around her chubby finger by morning.
He’d swallowed his agony over knowing she wasn’t his and raised Ginny as if she were. She was Daddy’s little girl and knew how to get him to give in to any demand she had. Arthur had come to love her as his own and watched her grow into a young woman that he was immensely proud of.
Arthur Weasley straightened the neat papers on his desk for the sixth time in the last ten minutes and cleared his throat. He had been dreading parents' weekend at Hogwarts for two months; ever since Molly had announced she was ending their thirty year marriage for— him.
Molly had delivered the papers by owl three weeks prior and he’d signed them sadly. He moved out of the Burrow and now lived in a flat he leased near work. The break had been swift and painful but he hadn’t seen her since nor had they spoken. In fact, the only correspondence he’d had from her was the note she’d sent the day before.
Can’t make parents’ weekend, something came up. Break the news to Gin.
—M
He sighed and straightened his papers a final time then looked at his watch. It was time.
He retrieved his worn briefcase from where it was tucked under the desk and began methodically packing up the reports he needed and filed the rest away in a cabinet against the wall. When his desk was clean and he couldn’t delay any longer he shrank his briefcase down and pocketed it.
Arthur left the Ministry building through the grand Floo hall, something he hadn’t done since moving out of the Burrow—now he used the gleaming glass doors that lead out onto a muggle street to get to his flat.
The green flames swirled around him as he announced his destination and was swept away. Fireplace after fireplace passed him until he stepped out into The Three Broomsticks. The little pub was packed, students and their parents reuniting before returning to the castle for the weekend.
“Dad!”
Arthur heard Ginny’s voice over the din and turned towards the sound. She was waving excitedly at him from a small table shoved into the back corner. It only had one bench seat pushed up against the wall and the table was partially hidden behind a large door that was propped open, leading into the kitchens.
He made his way over to her and she stood to hug him over the small table.
“Ginny, you look well. How are you?” he asked, sitting beside her.
“I’m good! Mum hasn’t arrived yet, I thought you’d be coming together.”
“Oh,” he said, “she didn’t owl you?”
“What, no?”
“She can’t make it,” Arthur said softly.
“What?!” Ginny exclaimed.
“She said something came up, I thought she would’ve told you.”
“What do you mean, what came up? Why didn’t you owl me?”
“Well, I didn’t know until yesterday,” he admitted.
“What? Why…”
She paused. Her brown eyes were wide, looking at him imploringly.
“Dad, what's going on?”
She leaned into him, keeping her voice down though that was hardly necessary with tonight's clientele; the pub was noisy.
“Well— I was going to wait to tell you but… your mum and I split.”
He said it quickly, like ripping a plaster off. He didn’t look at her, couldn’t look at her. He didn’t want to see the heartbreak in her eyes.
“Just after term started, she— it’s such a long story. And I guess it’s time you finally hear it.”
So he told her.
He told her of her mother’s affair, of his heartbreak and the years of loneliness, and he told her that she was always a bright light, always his girl who made the pain worth it. He told her that her mother had realized during the war that life was too short and when she and him—because he couldn’t say his name—had both lived through the final battle Molly decided she no longer wanted to be with Arthur and requested he remove his things from their home immediately.
Ginny’s eyes watered as her father told her about the disastrous end to their marriage. She held his hand in sympathy and he squeezed back.
“Dad I'm— I'm so sorry. Mum… that’s awful.”
“There’s one other thing,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“It’s—” he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
“How bad can it be after that, Dad? It’s not like I'm adopted or something,” she joked in a thick voice.
His eyes cut to hers and he stared at her. Her hair was auburn like her mother’s but stick straight, so unlike her sibling’s waves and curls. Both he and Molly had curly hair as well, though he kept his trimmed quite short. It had been one of the more noticeable signs she wasn’t his blood that he’d seen over the years.
“Merlin’s bollox, am I adopted?” she hissed at him, “But the red hair!”
He shook his head quickly.
“Not adopted— but Ginny, I’m not your dad.”
She stared at him with wide eyes. Her mouth gaped and he could see her pink tongue in her mouth.
“You’re not— My dad is—”
He nodded, answering her unspoken question.
“I’ll always be your Dad, Ginny, don’t worry about that. But technically you aren’t mine. There’s no blood relation.”
Her hand shot up and she waved frantically at Rosmerta, flashing several fingers at the barmaid when she had her attention. Three glasses of dark liquid appeared at the table and Ginny pushed one towards Arthur.
“Cheers to this fucking situation.”
She knocked back one of the two remaining glasses—of what Arthur discovered, with a sniff, was Firewhiskey—and wrapped a shaky hand around the other before taking a more measured pull.
Arthur took a sip of his own drink and grimaced as she stared at him. The alcohol burned his throat going down but settled in his stomach as a flickering warmth, like a campfire.
“So, mum’s not coming, you two are divorced, and I’m not your daughter. Anything I missed?” she asked flatly.
“Well... I don’t live at the Burrow anymore. I’ve got a flat near the office now. But, yeah, that’s about it.”
“Fucking grand.”
She continued to sip at the Firewhiskey and looked around the pub. Most of the patrons had departed for the evening, many of them being parents who were expected to check-in by nine at the Entrance Hall. She glanced at her watch and saw it was half eight.
“We’d better head to the castle,” she said, tipping the rest of her glass into her mouth and pushing up from the bench.
Arthur followed Ginny from the pub and they walked in silence up the deserted path towards the castle, its tall towers poking above the treetops like a beacon. The trees were lit with magical lights and ominous shadows stretched across the worn dirt.
“Cutting it a bit close, don’t you think, Ms. Weasley?” Professor McGonnagal’s voice rang through the entrance hall, “Oh, Arthur, how good to see you!”
The matronly woman opened her arms and pulled him in for a hug before she released him and stepped back, clearing her throat and resuming her stiff posture.
“You’re on the sixth floor,” she looked down at the scroll she was holding, “in the East Wing, the room has a lovely view of the lake. I hope you enjoy the weekend.”
She smiled at the pair and turned towards another group of stragglers to get them checked-in and assigned to rooms.
“I know a shortcut to the East Wing,” Ginny whispered.
She stepped away and Arthur followed towards the grand staircase that would lead them up into the heart of the castle. When they reached the fourth floor, Ginny told him to wait for her and slipped behind a slatted wall. She returned a few moments later and then led him back down to the third floor, to the end of the hall, and up a hidden spiral staircase to the sixth floor.
The room he’d been assigned was a decent size, a large bed sat against the far wall underneath a row of windows looking out over the forest below. A small loveseat was pushed close to the fireplace and a wardrobe was opposite another wall of windows that overlooked the lake. Arthur couldn’t tell in the darkness but he was sure Minerva hadn’t been exaggerating the view.
“Here,” Ginny said behind him.
He turned and saw she was extending another glass of amber liquid to him. He raised his eyebrow and looked at the flask in her hand but she only shrugged and pressed the glass into his hands.
“I can’t believe it about mum— I’m still so sorry, Dad.”
“It’s ok, I’ve been ok about it for a lot of years now.”
“Yeah, but she just… left after everything— what a bitch.”
“Ginevra,” he scolded her softly.
He turned back to the window so she couldn’t see his smile, she had her mother’s fire that was for sure. He’d loved that about Molly in the early days of their courtship, but it had faded too soon and he always missed how she used to rib him about his love of muggle artifacts.
He cleared his throat and swallowed a bit of the firewhiskey in his glass before turning back to Ginny. She was perched on the arm of the loveseat, staring into the crackling fire.
“So how are classes? Is Binns still teaching History of Magic?”
“Ugh, yes. He’s as droll as ever, it’s like we didn’t just finish fighting a war…”
“He never was good at empathy for the living.”
She barked out a laugh and stood, grabbing the flask to tip more alcohol into her glass. She reached over and filled his with another healthy helping, he wasn’t sure if he should stop her so he took a sip of the burning liquid instead.
“N.E.W.T.’s are difficult but being back here has been the most difficult—” she stopped.
She fingered the rim of her glass and took another sip. They were standing awkwardly in the center of the room.
“I didn’t think being here without any family was going to be hard but, not having older brothers around has been different.”
“What no boys you’ve found to pass the time with?” he asked before snapping his mouth shut, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
She scoffed at him and tossed back the rest of her glass.
“No. After Harry and I split… Well, let’s just say I’m focusing on school for a bit.”
“That’s not a bad plan,” Arthur nodded, taking a large gulp of firewhiskey and coughing at the burn.
He looked up at Ginny and his head swam, the warmth in his belly extended to his limbs and he could feel his cheeks burning with flush.
“How’s work?” she asked
He shrugged, finishing the glass and placing it on the small side table next to the sofa.
“Work is work. It’s easy, always has been.”
He watched her cross the room and flop onto the large bed, indenting the crisp cover. Her hair splayed out behind her. She had shed her trainers at some point—Arthur noticed them near the door—and her small feet dangled off the edge of the bed. Her legs were toned, muscled from riding a broom almost every day, and Arthur followed the line up not realizing what he was doing.
The dress she’d worn had flipped up slightly and he saw pink peeking out from under the dark fabric before he realized she wasn’t wearing knickers. His eyes widened and he quickly looked away, reaching for the flask of Firewhiskey and tipping it into his glass.
He gulped at it desperately, what was he thinking looking at his daughter’s—well, not his daughter’s, but close enough—pussy. Even if it had been cute… all pink and gleaming with a certain wetness.
He shook his head to clear the image burned into his brain.
“You know what would piss her off?”
Her voice sounded from the bed and he took a breath before he turned again. She was propped up on her elbows now, but she still had her legs spread open.
“What?” he choked out.
“If you took my virginity…”
Silence. Not even a breeze outside could pierce the absolute silence as they stared at each other across the small room.
“What—” he said again.
“My virginity?” she asked pointedly, “What if you took it— She’d be super mad if she found out.”
“That— No, I can’t do that…”
He eyed the flask of alcohol again, wondering if a fifth glass was called for.
“Why not? You said you’re not my Dad, not biologically anyways. So what’s the problem?”
He stared at her, lost for words.
“I’m on the potion— it wouldn’t even be a big deal…”
She flopped back down when he didn’t respond; he was frozen, unsure what to do.
“Ugh, whatever,” she groaned.
She dragged herself off the bed and snatched the flask from his loose grip. She took a swig directly from the lip and slumped into the loveseat by the fireplace.
“Want to play a game then?” she asked, her voice only wavered slightly.
He nodded and sank to the other side of the loveseat, leaning against the arm to keep his distance lest he do something rash in his drunken state, like say ‘Fuck it’ and agree—it had been a very long time and he was loathe to admit that the glimpse of her had made his cock curious.
She fished her wand out of her sleeve and flicked it, a pack of cards appeared on the table beside him. He handed her the pack and she shuffled and dealt them equal hands.
They passed the next hour playing cards and passing the flask back and forth, glasses discarded on the side table.
“Want to make it a little more interesting?” she asked in a sing-song voice, holding up a small vial of clear liquid.
“What’s that?” he asked, though he had an idea.
“Veritaserum,” she answered matter of factly, confirming his suspicion.
She took the flask from his hands and tipped a drop into the remaining contents—not very much, only a few swallows left for each of them—and gave it a swirl.
“Truth or dare?”
His forehead crinkled and he looked from her to the flask and back.
“Truth?” he answered hesitantly.
She pushed the flask into his hands.
“One swig,” she nodded her chin towards him, waiting for him to comply.
He tipped it back, careful to only take a small mouthful. The warmth of the alcohol was already coursing through him but he felt his tongue grow thick with the added potion.
“What are you most excited for, being here again?”
He blushed, it was a relatively innocuous question that without the potion he would have fibbed about but the truth potion compelled him. He started to speak and the potion forced him to say what he’d been excited for before Molly broke things off—he’d never truly stopped wishing they might rekindle their old flame in the place it had all started.
“I wanted— to visit the Astronomy tower again. I spent a lot of time there as a student— it’s where your mum and I… Well, it’s where I proposed and let’s just say we stayed way past curfew and had to dodge Filch and that damned cat to get back to the common room.”
As the effects of the potion faded—it had been enough to force one truth from him—he looked anywhere but at her, embarrassed that he missed Molly despite her unfaithfulness.
Her mouth fell open in a small ‘O’ of surprise but before she could apologise again, he spoke.
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
She reached for the flask and took a drink of her own, waiting for his question. Arthur racked his brain for something that would be easy to answer.
“Skived off any lessons this year?” he asked partially as a joke but the potion took hold and she answered it.
“Shite, yeah—” she tried to clap her hands over her mouth, her eyes widening, “I was so hungover two weekends ago, I skipped charms.”
Her voice was muffled behind her hands but he still heard her and laughed.
She glared at him.
“Truth or dare?” she asked.
“Dare,” he said, glaring back.
She looked around and smirked standing and running to the bed, he was up and following her before stopping suddenly. She pulled the pillows off and threw one at him before grabbing the second and duplicating it. She threw the duplicated pillow at him and continued casting.
“Balance as many pillows on your head as you can while singing the Hogwarts theme song!” she laughed, tossing pillow after pillow at him.
He laughed and placed the pillows on his head, racking his alcohol-addled brain for the words of the song he’d once known so well.
“Hoggy, warty, Hogwarts… teach me something— please,” he huffed moving back and forth to keep the pillows stacked, reaching his hands up to balance the growing pile.
“And though— our heads be filled with fluff—“
The pillow pile pitched over and he slid to the right trying to catch it but instead caught the rug with his foot and tumbled with the pillows onto the bed.
Ginny flopped down beside him and they laughed until their bellies hurt surrounded by the excess of feather poofs.
“Truth or dare?” he asked when they had caught their breath.
“Truth.”
She summoned the flask they’d left by the couch and sipped at it.
“What’s something you miss about home while at Hogwarts?”
“The noise, our family antics— you.”
She didn’t give him time to think about her answer before she asked, “Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he took the flask from her.
“Did you ever break a Hogwarts rule and what was it?”
Arthur blew a heavy breath out of his mouth and looked at her, her face swam before him a glowing ray of light surrounded by deep auburn locks.
“Well, one time in sixth year, I found an old muggle radio stashed in a rubbish room. I snuck out of the common room every night for a week after curfew and tried to fix it up to play wizarding music, you know how your mum loves Celestia Warbuck.”
Ginny nodded at him as he spoke.
“Of course at the time, I had no clue how muggle electricity worked and next thing I know it’s pouring out smoke and playing this awful screeching rendition of ‘Hot Cauldron of Love.’ Woke nearly the entire castle. Dumbledore himself found me, silenced the thing and confiscated it. Sent me off to bed with that smile of his, I’m convinced he fiddled with that thing in his office trying to get it to work too, I know I heard him humming ‘Hot Cauldron' several times that year.”
Ginny snorted and a fit of giggles rose back up and he smiled at the sound. He rolled onto his side, the Firewhiskey and Veritaserum muddling his brain.
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” she said, slurring extra emphasis onto the ‘th.’
He didn’t know what made him ask, maybe it was her eyes as they turned to him, maybe it was that they were suddenly so close, maybe it was the alcohol.
“Did you really want me to take your virginity?”
Her already flushed cheeks pinked even more in the dim light and she rolled to face him. Their knees knocked together and he glanced down at her thighs, her skirt had ridden up around her waist and barely covered the spot that they met her torso.
“Yes,” she whispered.
His eyes snapped to hers and she licked her lips. He followed the slide of her tongue, his breath hitching as she pulled it back into her mouth.
“Truth or dare.”
“Dare.”
He couldn’t risk the question she’d ask if he picked truth.
“Kiss me.”
He stared at her, her cheeks were flushed and lips swollen from sipping on the flask. She was watching him with slightly drooping eyes.
He pounced before he let himself think about it. Arthur pushed her back and climbed over her, pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her deeply, if a little sloppily thanks to the Firewhiskey, but she returned it in kind, opening for him when his tongue skated across her lower lip.
Her thighs fell to the side as he knelt between her legs and he rolled his hips down into her. He groaned as the fabric of his trousers constricted around his growing bulge separating him from feeling her the way he wanted.
As if she knew, her fingers scrambled down to his waistband, unbuttoning and pushing his trousers down over his hips. His cock sprang free and bounced against her stomach.
“You sure?” he asked breathlessly.
His hips bucked and his cock dragged against her core, heat radiating from her unfucked pussy, begging him to enter her.
“Please,” she whined, “take me.”
His cock slid back, lined up with her entrance, and glided in smoothly. Her breath hitched and a small grimace passed over her face as he reached the barrier to her womanhood. He kissed her again, drawing her attention from his intrusion, his hands skating over her and finding her nipple. He began playing with it until her breathing ratcheted up and she moaned into his mouth.
When she was wholly distracted he pulled his hips back and thrust forward, pushing through her tightness, taking her like she’d begged. He felt the resistance fall away and knew he’d done it, Arthur had been the one to have her first.
He took care with his first few thrusts to make sure she wasn’t in pain but when her own hips rose to meet his and she gasped into his ear in a sound that was pure pleasure his speed increased. His cock buried within her was ecstasy, her tight cunt squeezed his length, suckled on his tip, and welcomed him home.
Arthur was lost to the lust, he hadn’t been with anyone but his hand in years. He knew he wouldn’t last long, but thankfully the alcohol dulled his sensation just enough that he hoped he could get her there first. He wanted her first time to be everything, he couldn’t ruin it for her.
His thumb found her clit between them and he circled around the sensitive nerves bringing a spasm out of her.
“Merlin— Fuck, it feels— it feels…”
“Tell me how it feels, Gin,” he bit out.
“It’s so— full, so good, it feels good but… it feels like I need something more.”
He fucked her fast, drilling into her body, pressing into her clit. Arthur knew what she needed as he pushed her to the edge and coaxed her off. Ginny gasped, a sharp needy sound that went straight to his bollocks, as her pussy rippled violently then clamped on him. She was coming!
“Fuuuck!” Arthur yelled into her shoulder as he tumbled over with her, emptying twelve years of pent up orgasms into her cunt. He rolled his hips against her until he finally came down.
Pulling back, Arthur felt the rush of his release around his shaft as he exited her and flopped back onto the pillows with a grunt. He was lightheaded from the vigorous activity and alcohol finally hitting him.
He blinked blearily over at Ginny. She was laying with her eyes closed, her cute nose that he’d always loved flaring with every breath. Slowly reality crept back in and a wash of panic flared in his stomach. What had he done?
“Mmmm, thanks Daddy,” Ginny sighed, rolling into his chest.
The sound of her soft snoring came within seconds and he tightened his arms around her as sleep reared up to claim him. He could panic tomorrow—maybe this would all turn out to be a dream.