Extra-Ordinary

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Extra-Ordinary

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I've always strived to be something extra-ordinary. I guess that it comes with the territory of being the youngest of six sons and the second youngest child in a family where extra-ordinary is the norm rather than the exception. The size of our family is extra-ordinary. And every person in our family has some extra-ordinary talent, skill, or nature. Take Bill, for example. He's the intelligent and handsome one that the girls love. Then Charlie has his natural ability to care for animals, and more animal magnetism than I'll ever quite understand. Percy is the smart and bossy one who knows what he wants and goes the extra mile to get it. Fred and George (though they'd probably kill me for referring to them as one unit rather than as individuals) fill the role of the practical jokers who are terribly smarter than they appear at first glance. And finally there's Ginny, the one with a fiery spirit and an uncanny ability to hex you when you're least prepared to defend yourself.

I always thought that, someday, I would find that I had some extra-ordinary gift beyond extra-ordinary height and the ability to play chess well (an ability I find terribly dull). I thought, possibly, that I would become very good at Defense against the Dark Arts or that I might find that I was much better on a broom than the famous Harry Potter. But my "someday" never seemed to come. So here I am, a little past my seventeenth birthday, lackluster as the moment I was born.

I suppose part of why I want to be extra-ordinary is to gain some sort of definition aside from the fact that I'm a Weasley. Most people don't understand how hard it is to define yourself outside of a large family. It's much deeper than people looking at your hair and saying "ah, another Weasley, huh?", and you having to reply with a weary smile and "yup", all without grimacing. For everyone else, though, there's more to talk about. Bill will get asked all the time about his work in Egypt, and Charlie's getting rather bothered by the amount of questions he gets posed about Romanian dragons. Even Percy has his time in the limelight when people meet him, for, of course, Percy's name showed up more than once in the Daily Prophet after Fudge was booted. Of course, Fred and George get asked all about their adventures into the world of entra...entre...entri...well, whatever making your own business is called. And Ginny has never been without the renown, for she is the first Weasley-born female in many generations. And where does that leave me, Ron Weasley? It leaves me at square one.

But, you've never quite seemed to mind that.

I know it's wrong to look at you like I'm looking at you right now, especially in the midst of all this pain and anguish. It's so overwhelming, all that has happened this year. I can see how the grief has taken its toll on Harry. He's practically broken in half. I can barely stand to talk to him now for fear of being too insensitive (something you've accused me of on more than one occasion). I can see it in everyone's eyes as we sit and wait for Dumbledore's funeral to end. And I can feel the pain you feel as your face buries itself in my shoulder and I hold your slender body to my own.

I look down and I wonder if you have any idea how beautiful you really are. Do you know how your brown eyes remind me of warm chocolate on a cold winter's evening? I could melt just looking at them sometimes, especially when you smile at me. It's like coming home to a warm household after walking in the snow for hours on end. I practically drown in them now as you look up, crying over the loss of the Headmaster we thought of as like a second father, and possibly the only father that Harry can truly claim he ever truly knew.

Sometimes I wonder why you're crying on my shoulder instead of Harry's. True, now there's my sister to think about. I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I always hoped Harry and Ginny would become an item partially because it would stop you from seeing Harry in the same light I see you. But that's foolish logic, really. When has someone being in a relationship ever really stopped other people from falling in love with them?

I never thought you were in love with Harry, by the way. He's too much like a brother to you. I see how you hug him like I hugged Ginny the moment she emerged from the Chamber four years ago. Sometimes I can't help myself from being jealous, though. How can any guy not be jealous of Harry? He's the famous one, the one with the randomly extra-ordinary talents that pop up like daisies in springtime. Most girls are simply mad for him, and logic dictates that, all things being equal, the simplest explanation tends to be the right one, and therefore you should be mad for him, too. I suppose, then, that I'm lucky that nothing in my life is ever too logical.

Your hand brushes against the nape of my neck as you cry when our professors finally rise from their dirty seats and retreat to their chambers to mourn for the death of Dumbledore in private. I know that you can feel my heart begin to race as your hand holds mine and you squeeze it for comfort. I can hardly breathe now, your hair tickling my face, and I softly place my head on top of yours.

I wonder to myself, as I look at our hands on top of one another (yours browned from the sun and mine from freckles) how you could ever want someone like me. How could you ever look at me and want me like I want you? It makes no absolutely no sense. You have the ability to have almost any guy you want. I see the way the other sixth years look at you. They smile when you pass by and they glance a second longer than they should. I get jealous of those boys, the boys who have finally realized after six long years of school that you're about as exceptional as girls (no, women!) come.

I've probably never been as jealous of anyone as I was when I found out about Viktor two years ago. I thought my whole world was crashing down. In a way, it was even worse than my perpetual fear that you might someday fall hard for Harry. Viktor was real, palpable. And, even worse than that, he was extra-ordinary. He had loads that I didn't: fame, wealth, looks... the list piled painfully in my mind. It's probably stupid that I was so jealous; I know that you're much deeper than the other girls who tried to impress Krum, and I know that you only dated him because he was kind to you when I was not. I promise that I'll never make that mistake again, Hermione.

I promise it with all my heart.

I notice that your fingers are entwined with mine as we leave the funeral grounds, and it's all I can do to not to cry out with repressed joy for, finally, there's something that makes me extra-ordinary.