Hero

Virginia Summer Weasley.

My sister.

My love.

That night I was lying on my bed, reading a book for school when suddenly there was a bright flash of light and a loud clap of thunder. The silence after the bolt was deafening, and then the rain started. As they danced on our old tin roof I felt as though I could hear every rain drop as it splashed and ran. The wind whistled through the trees, and howled like a banshee. A shiver raced down my spine, and my mind instantly jumped to Ginny.

My little sister.

I heard my door creak open, and who should step in, but Ginny. Her satin ginger curls were pulled back with a piece of ribbon and her golden brown eyes, which usually matched her sea of freckles in their happiness, were timid and frightened as they had been years ago, when she first came to Hogwarts.

There was silence between us until she finally spoke up.

"The storm scared me... I thought you might still be awake."

I nodded, "C'mere," I said and set my book down. She ran over, her small feet making pitty-pat sounds. She jumped up on my bed and sat down next to me.

"I've always felt safe with you, you know." she said, leaning her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah," I said, "You told me last year, the night-" I stopped.

"The night Harry died." She finished. I nodded mutely.

"Ever since I've been afraid of thunderstorms," she tossed some of her curls over her shoulder, "but not when I'm with you." She turned her big brown eyes to look into mine, "You're my hero, Ron."

All I could do was smile, and know that the tips of my ears where turning red.

Ginny continued, "Whenever I was afraid, you where there to help me up, to get me back on my feet. You're not just the Sidekick of The-Boy-Who-Lived, you're my White Knight."

"Funny, I'm usually red in chess," I teased, growing uncomfortable. She blinked up at me, then mock glared and tackled me. Amid hushed giggles and snorts, I managed to pin her down under me and tickle her. My long fingers skillfully danced along her smooth curved sides, and she giggled and twisted under them. Suddenly our eyes met, ice into gold, and we knew it was no longer a game.

"Ron," she gasped, and her fingers found their way into my hair. Our lips met in the slightest touch, and I drew back, afraid.

"Ginny," I breathed, "This is wrong,"

"I love you," she whispered, "I've always loved you..." Her lips found mine again. I could not take it. Years of pent up love and rage took over me, and I could not hid them any longer.

"And I love you," I said. My mouth found hers, and we finally found ourselves among the swirls of orange and red.

The sunlight streamed in through the white and yellow curtains and fell upon her warm freckled skin. Her satin ginger curls framed her small perfect face and her red, lustrous lips were parted slightly in a sweet smile. Her golden brown eyes were closed in sleep, and the long lashes lay still. Her champagne shoulders were dotted here and there with dark brown freckles, and added to her summertime beauty. One arm was curled around her head, and the other lay contentedly on the yellow linen sheet covering the rest of her beautiful body from view.

I stood above her and I admired her beauty on that warm summer morning. Pulling a daisy out from a vase beside the bed, I tucked it behind her ear, and as I was doing so I caught the sweet scent of rain and sunshine which always lingered on her. She moved, and mumbled something in her sleep.

"Hush, hush," I murmured, kissing her forehead. She fell silent, and fell back into a deep sleep. "Good-bye, my love." I touched her hair again, and as I did so a strand of my own auburn hair fell into my eyes. I brushed it away, and turned to leave.