The Red-Head Diaries

The Red-Head Diaries

January 11, 19--

Dear Diary,

I don't know where to start, but I will try. Ginny told me I could do it; write it all down. Everything. She was the one who gave me this stupid diary in the first place. She said to write everything. I refused to her. My closest sibling! I refused. How could I put my life into words? She said that it could help me with a lot of life's problems. That was over two weeks ago.

It all started with the break-up of Ginny and Harry. I wouldn't ever imagine that my best friend would go with my sister, especially after the one-sided crush of Ginny's first year at Hogwarts. Since Harry never showed much interest in her, I didn't watch them under close inspection like I should have. By the end of November, they had become an official couple. I couldn't believe it. Of course I told him off and we feuded for about a week before making up. We had a consensus upon Ginny:

Luckily, our friendship secured these terms (by my knowledge, and I can be very persuasive). The break-up itself was devastating. I would know from the passionate summer Hermione and I shared, then the brutal pain in my heart when she dumped me for Harry. Eventually, he had stopped their relationship because it was going "too fast" which had sent me into a fit of giggles, pretty mature for a fifteen-year-old.

Here's something you wouldn't expect. Harry went with Ginny to tick off Hermione. She had seen them getting close after her break-up with Harry. Obviously, Harry wanted to make it in glowing letters that he was very interested in Ginny. This was completely obnoxious, because I later figured out that he used Ginny for his own purposes with Hermione. After a week with Ginny, Harry had been two-timing her with Hermione. "The Boy Who Lived" was actually "The Boy Who Snogged," Harry must've kissed every Gryffindor girl over third year. Of course I would laugh, and the irony was that my laughs didn't cover a bit of jealousy. "Why?" you ask? Because I had none.

Normally one would consider Ron Weasley; yes that's me, a goofy, poor, redheaded extrovert. The actuality of my life hadn't been shared with anyone until now. Should I trust you? I trusted Hermione last summer. I told her about my first kiss. It had been with Lavender Brown second year when I had a crush on her and used Harry's cloak to sneak into her dorm and snog her senseless while she slept (and she had no recollection of the past night's events the following morning either!

Of course after my break-up, Hermione began tell Harry these things because they got close. Sure Hermione wasn't a huge blabbermouth, but she still told Harry nevertheless. But things change, life changes.

I suppose about a week ago it happened. Ginny began to come close to me and let out her feelings about Harry. About one time he had tried to coerce her into an oral favor and how she declined and he took out his wand on her. All these years, and I never knew how demanding Harry was.

Ginny came to me that day with tears in her eyes, a lump in her throat, and a shaky voice.

"Ginny, what's wrong now?" I said, with a semi-sarcastic tone.

" I was thinking about Harry..." she replied, almost silent.

She began telling me about the things he had done to her both mentally and physically, and I was astounded. I couldn't do anything; we were at the Burrow with Harry and Hermione. Since the mischief was always apparent, Mum watched us like a hawk. This time, Ginny and I were alone and Harry and his beloved were frolicking in the grass, or having a picnic, I couldn't tell.

If there has been any moment when I have felt good about my actions as a big brother, it was then. Ginny cried on my shoulder in my room. I was still for several minutes; it was too much to take in. Ginny's sobs deceased rather quickly, she felt better.

I stared out into space. My best friend, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Hogwarts hero, bearer of many glorious titles had subject my sister to these things. I didn't sob, but my tears were as stealth as my emotion. My best friend deceived me.

"This isn't happening... this isn't happening... this isn't happening..." I kept repeating to myself. I repeated in my head everything Ginny had said. I thought of Harry's actions within the past four months. It all made sense.

"It makes sense, but can it be?" I thought once more.

I know, diary, I know. I am plainly saying the same thing over and over again. How would you react?

Ginny saw my stealthy tears; she kissed my forehead and embraced me. Instead of her head on my shoulder, mine was on hers. She continued to cry and so did I, I felt so vulnerable. We stood up from sitting on the carpet and hugged. This time, I kissed her forehead. She stood on her toes and joined her lips with mine.

"This is wrong," my conscience said.

I pulled back and said, "We shouldn't do this"

"But we both want this, don't we? Wouldn't this have happened sooner or later..." her voice trailed off. Her tears were gone and she smiled. I smiled back and she put her hand in mine.

That night, Ginny slept in my room. We told Mum that we had to talk about the "Harry" situation and her face had fallen and she allowed us to. She wasn't ready to forgive Harry for dumping her little girl, but if she found out about other things I'm sure that Mum would be sent to Azkaban on a count of use of all three Unforgivable Curses.

Night, I couldn't sleep, and neither could Ginny, for I remembered she had always had a very subtle snore when she slept. I looked over at the bed next to mine; Ginny was awake and looking at me. I beckoned her over. She came over and under the sheets with me. At first this felt wrong, but then I realized that I loved my sister more than just the bond of siblings. That night, we [voluntarily] performed an act that a brother and sister never do. And yes, you perverted diary, that is it.

I woke up with Ginny gone. I looked all over the Burrow for her, but I didn't prevail. I found Harry and asked him if he'd seen her, and he replied a solid no, as did Hermione. I went into a wooded area by our home, where Ginny and I had built a small fortress of protection in a tree. Usually Muggles do this, but Dad built us one out of fascination. I walked in and she was crying, sitting on the floor.

"Did we do it last night?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

I sat down next to her and held her close and muttered to her the words "It's going to be okay... it's going to be okay..."

We sat for over three hours chanting those words and silence fell upon us. Ginny rested her head on my knee.

"I love you Ron," she whispered.

"I love you Ginny," I replied.

Sincerely,

Ronald Weasley