Requests

Spring 1987

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The old house was creaking under the strain of the wind that howled through the trees like a vengeful banshee. Raindrops pummelled the magically supported house. Inside, however, things were quieter. Most of the occupants were wrapped in the silence of sleep, apart from the muffled snarling snores Ginny could hear coming up the stairs from Percy's bedroom on the landing below. At this time of night, even the twins had stopped making noise.

On the third floor landing of The Burrow, Ginny froze as thunder rumbled - it was so soon after the lighting and sounded as if it was right outside the straining walls. She dashed up two more flights of stairs, slipping into the small orange room just as lightning lit up the images of Quidditch players huddling together inside their posters, and shook violently when the sound of the thunder next rolled through the house not a second later. She reached out her arm to wake her brother when a bolt of lightning struck one of the old gnarled trees outside. With a shriek, she pulled up the covers and jumped into the bed, scooting as close to Ron as possible and holding on to him for dear life. He was her brother; he would make it better.

"Gin? Ginny, wha'z wrong?" Ron blearily opened one eye to look at the shaking form that had the covers all the way up over her head. Just then, another flash of lightning was accompanied by a rumble of thunder. "Oh, Gin..."

He knew she hated thunderstorms. They scared her witless. They had been sharing a room ever since they were toddlers - this was the first storm since he had moved into Bill & Charlie's old room - and the first storm they had spent apart. He wasn't surprised to find her clinging to him like a limpet. She had often slipped into his bed during thunderstorms when they shared a room - it came naturally to him now. He knew what to do.

Sighing, he quickly lit the candle on the bedside table, letting it fill the room with a soft glow. He carefully rolled back over, slowly reached down and removed the covers from over her head, revealing her squeezed-shut, tear-filled eyes. He gently touched her soft, vibrant hair as she clung tighter to his worn pyjama shirt, sobs wracking through her thin body. "Shush...shush Gin...it's alright, it'll be alright..."

The seven-year-old pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his little sister's head, rubbing her back through her soft white flannel nightgown. He could feel the bones of her back through her clothes, and reminded himself to make her eat more. He couldn't have her fading away on him - she was his little sister, his closest sibling...he would be lost without her.

Ginny simply hiccoughed, and clung even tighter to him when the next bolt of lightning lit up the room. She liked it here, in the bright orange room, curled up in her brother's bed. Nothing could ever hurt her here - here, she was safe. Here, she was loved, no matter what.

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Slowly the storm faded, along with Ginny's tears. She remained in his bed though, under his nice, warm comforter. Cuddled up in his arms, she drifted off to sleep. She was safe here, in the warm embrace of her brother. She knew he would always be there - he already was there, any and every time something went wrong. Holding her hand when Mum cleaned her cuts and scrapes, helping her get things that were too high for her to reach. He was her most precious thing in the world, and she never wanted to let him go.

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Many hours later, Ron watched out the window as the sun slowly rose over the town of Ottery St. Catchpole, his sister still wrapped in his arms, and he silently promised her that he would keep her safe, be her shelter, for any and all of the storms to go. He would do anything for her...anything.