When I Was Five

The girl, small and five and innocent, had not said much on the car ride back home.

Her two oldest brothers, the quiet two, had talked in low voices in the back seat. She had heard them whispering about something that sounded both exciting and rather frightening, but she could not be sure what.

And the loudest two, the twins, had been laughing in the very rear of the car. She remembered them crying out with enthusiasm about something or other.

But she had not said a word.

~

    Ginny Weasley stretched. The old couch grunted slightly under her weight, and she - unwillingly - opened her eyes with a yawn.

    “Everybody, I have an announcement to make.”

    She turned her gaze to her youngest brother, across the room. He had a huge grin on his face and one arm around Hermione Granger. Ginny sat up, a small smirk of satisfaction twisting on her lips.

    A crowd of redheads appeared, oozing out of doorways and the cabinetry. Her father stomped his muddy boots on the floor mat and set down a pair of batteries. She rolled her eyes. The twins looked up from their order forms; George muttered something to Fred about shoes that made you levitate.

    Ron cleared his throat. Mrs. Weasley made a small noise of affection. Hermione blushed. Ginny glanced across the room at Harry, who had been coiled up in the big easy chair by the fireplace. Now he was gazing, somewhat blearily, at his best friends.

    “I asked Hermione to marry me,” exclaimed Ron, his ears red.

    Hermione opened her mouth to add something to this, but Fred had already leapt up and was at Ron’s side.

    “And she said no?” cried his brother. “That’s-”

    “Terrible, man,” chimed George. “Well, you know what me and Fred always say-” He turned to his brother. “Never let yourself get taken in by these women creatures…”

    “We say that?”

    “Of course we do.”

    Harry and Hermione exchanged looks. Ron was too busy looking petrified to notice.

    “She- she said yes, mate.”

    “…horrible, really,” rambled George.

    “Quite,” agreed his brother. “Just atrocious.” He paused. “Wait!” he shouted in over-jovial surprise. “Do you mean to tell me that this gorgeous individual-”

    Hermione flushed rosily and George picked up the slack. “Said yes to the likes of you?”

    “Of course I did!” cried Hermione, shoving one of the twins in the stomach gently.

    “See,” said Ron, his ears red with pride. “See?” He held out her left hand for all to see; the glistening jewel on the gold band shone with a sort of fairy-tale sheen.

    The youngest Weasley glanced at Harry. “Pay up,” she mouthed to him, and he rolled his eyes.

    Ginny Weasley smirked.

~

The girl remembered thinking what it would be like the year after next when that brother left, and then the next, until finally she was alone.

She had sat on his bed - the sheets somehow crisper and neater than ever before - and she had cried quietly. It had been like a death in the family. She was not sure how long it would be before the next one left, but she was quite certain the answer was somewhere between her thumb and her index finger.

The youngest brother had come into the room then. She remembered the gentle slouch of the bed when he had sat down next to her.

~

    In the kitchen that evening, she helped her mother prepare dinner. She had misplaced her wand and drew out a knife from the cupboard to slice the vegetables for the salad.

    She was shaking. The blade suddenly seemed wide and dangerous and ominously polished. When he came into the kitchen, she shook so furiously that the cucumber under the knife came out in rough little ovals unlike the perfect circles of before.

    “Hello, Gin.”

    “Hello, Ron.”

    She went back to slicing the vegetables.

    “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” he asked. Ginny could hear the grin in his voice.

    “Congratulations. I’ve always thought you and Hermione made a wonderful pair,” she said, her voice higher than usual.

    “Thank you,” he said. Then he paused. “I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.”

    “Shut up,” she snapped. The knife slipped, drawing a thin line of red across the cutting board.

    “I’m sorry. I was just-”

    “Don’t.” She dropped the blade and brought her finger up her mouth. Her blood tasted salty.

    “You’re hurt,” Ron said, his voice lilting, but she ran.

~

The girl remembered that the boy had been crying too. He had wiped his tears away, though, and furiously rubbed his eyes. She remembered the angry red around her brother’s eyes.

He had put his arm around her, she remembered, and she had eased all of her five years into his six-year old frame, and sobbed into his shoulder.

~

    She was lying on his bed when Ron found Ginny. All stretched out, her fair toes pointing upward and her brown eyes on the ceiling.

    “Ginny?”

    She didn’t say anything. Maybe she was crying, thought Ron, but she did not seem to be moving.

    “How’s your finger?”

    “Fine.”

    “That’s good.” He moved across his bedroom and sat tenderly on the bed.

    For a moment she continued to stare at the orange of the ceiling. The Chudley Canon’s bedspread was tattered beneath his fingers. Then Ginny sat, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

    Ron did not say anything. Ginny seemed to be mostly lost in thought. When she spoke, her voice had a faraway quality to it.

    “Do you remember when Bill left?” she asked. Ron turned to her.

    “What?”

    “Do you remember when Bill left?”

    “For Hogwarts?”

    She nodded, her head contorting the pillow behind it.

    He hesitated. “Yes. Why?”

    “I was five and you were six,” Ginny said.

    Ron could not see where this was going. The muscles in his body tensed.

    “Do you remember…when we came back from King’s Cross?”

    The tips of Ron’s ears turned ruby. After a pause, “I do.”

~

The boy had not known what to do. Some thick, dark emotion, like molasses or syrup, was running through his veins, oozing from his pores, impeding his breathing.

The girl had turned her head towards him then. She looked so little, he had thought, though she was only a year younger than him.

Her skin was lighter than his or their brothers’. Right then the freckles on her nose and cheeks stood out, stark. Her hair had been stringy and damp, from tears or the sticky warmth outside.

He had leaned into her then, because he had been able to think of nothing else to do. Daddy always did this when Mummy was sad, after all.

It was different than he had anticipated at the last moments before. Her lips were smaller than his and swollen already from crying. They had tasted like honey or candies.

His, she had mused, seemed big and were rougher than hers. He tasted like fudgesicles.

It had been an innocent kiss, sweet and chaste, and it had only lasted for a moment. His sister had blinked up at him when it was over, most of her tears gone, and he had ran.

~

    Ginny did not say anything in return.

    “Why?”

    “I was just-”

    “What?” Ron murmured, his breath catching like cotton in his throat. “Just what?”

    She hesitated. He felt sick to his stomach, knowing the thoughts in her head.

    “What?” he asked again, almost impatient.

    “I feel like I’m losing you.”

    “You-” He stopped, shocked. “What?”

    “I feel like I’m losing you,” she repeated, weary. “I mean, you’re marrying Hermione now, which means that you won’t be ‘Ginny Weasley’s older brother’ anymore.”

    “What do you-”

    “You’ll be ‘Hermione Granger’s husband’,” she continued detachedly.

    “I’ll still be-”

    “No you won’t,” she said. “You’ll move out. I’ll see you on holidays and every once in a while, for parties and things.” She stared at him, her eyes huge. “It’s just like Bill leaving,” Ginny said quietly.

    Ron could think of nothing to say.

    Ginny was staring at the patch of wall behind him. She could hear the din of their family below, milling around in the kitchen. Harry was laughing with the twins about something or other.

    “Kiss me.”

    “What?” asked Ron.

    “Kiss me,” she replied, austere.

    “I can’t.”

    She stared at him, her eyes wide and warm.

    “I’m engaged, Ginny,” he said. “I’m getting married.”

    “And I’m losing you,” she said. Cutting off his protests, she continued, “I really am.” Ginny hesitated. “Say goodbye.”

    “But-” Ron gazed at her seriously then. She looked so pure then, her red lips standing out like wine on white linen.

    She opened her mouth to say something, but didn’t.

    The silence seemed to push him over the edge. It was a childlike kiss at first, his lips on hers, awkward, her breathing cool and controlled on his cheekbones.

    Ginny parted her mouth against his. There was a pause, a skip in the vinyl, and he pushed his tongue between her lips.

    The kiss deepened, her tongue against his, and the sick feeling in the pit of Ron’s stomach bent in on itself. Her lips were soft, like they had been when they were small, but they tasted of Pepper Imps now. Ron felt his back arch.

    Ginny was on her back on his bed. “Ron-”

    “Don’t,” he snapped. He sat too fast, the blood rushing to his head, and stood.

    “I-”

    “No.” He hands fumbled for the zipper of the jeans. He tugged his shirt on after, and opened the door.

    “Please-”

    “You got what you wanted, Ginny,” he said. Something new was in his voice.

    “But-” She leapt of the bed, standing by him.

    Ron forced himself to stare at her eyes. The vast expanse of lily-white skin tempted his fingers.

    “I’m sorry,” he said at last. He drew her bare body to him. “I love you, Ginny, but-” his hand gently cupped one of her breasts. “But I can’t.”

    “I know,” she said silently. “I love you, Ron.”

    He leaned in to kiss her. His jeans rubbed against the silk of her skin.

    “Don’t forget,” he murmured into her ear. She smiled softly through the tears.

    “I won’t.”

    He turned then, leaving her in his room. As his feet found the steps, a voice called to him.

    “Ron!”

    He turned back, then, from the foot of the stairs. “Yes?”

    “Congratulations.”

    The door slammed as the overbright sheen in Ron’s eyes spilt.