Sibling Advice

It was the fourth day in a row that Ron had heard the soft sobbing sounds coming from behind the door. It was all he could do to control his brotherly instincts and not just rush in. It was all he could do to keep himself from punching Harry in the nose the next time he saw him.

Three days since they had all left Hogwarts and Ginny had cried every morning when she thought the rest of the Weasley family was asleep. It was like she woke up early to get it over with so that no one would ask embarrassing questions. Ron only knew she was doing it because he had overheard her on his way to the bathroom after drinking a little too much butter beer on their first night back from school; on the first night after Dumbledore's funeral.

Ron had sensed that it would not go over well for him to interrupt Ginny, despite a profound desire to do so. He had owled Hermione for advice that very first morning, and told Pig to step on it.

Ron had known what Ginny was crying about. It was about Harry and his "noble" gesture, obviously. The git!

Hermione had been sensible and smart in saying to leave Ginny alone for a while to deal with it on her own. Hermione had also absolutely forbidden Ron from punching Harry in the nose.

On the second day, Ron had stood outside of Ginny's room and listened again, wanting with all his heart to go in and take care of his baby sister.

On that second day, Ron had been reminded poignantly of a time when Ginny was five and Ron was six. She had taken a broom out of the shed. She had somehow managed to get the thing five or six feet off the ground and she fell. She started crying and crying, more because she had failed to fly as well as Bill on her first try than because of the gash on her knee, but Ron couldn't stand to see his little sister cry.

Ron had picked her up and helped her back to the kitchen. He had soaked a towel with water and tried to dab the blood off Ginny's knee. Ginny had told him through tear-filled eyes that she could do it herself, thank you, and he was just making it sting anyway. Then she had pointed out that Ron was getting blood all over their mum's best hand towel. The she had called him a prat. Then of course a row had ensued, and their mum came in as Ron was trying to kick Ginny in her cut knee, and Ginny threw the towel at him.

Ginny had always been like that. She had been such a fierce and independent little girl. Really, she wasn't that much younger than him, anyway. There was only a little more than a year between them. That was probably why she disdained help from Ron more than any of their other brothers. Maybe that disdain was why Ron always wanted to give it more than any of their other brothers.

On that second day, as Ron had stood outside her door listening to the weeping sounds coming from his baby sister's room, he also remembered two other things about when she fell off the broom. First, Ron remembered how bad it had hurt his feelings when Ginny didn't want his help. Secondly, Ron remembered how Ginny had immediately told their mum how she was injured. Being that his Mum had looked close to apoplexy when seeing Ron kicking at her, Ginny had probably saved one or both of Ron's buttocks from a terrible experience.

After hearing Ginny cry for so long on that second day after returning from school, he had decided to write to Hermione again, a more panicked tone in his letter this time. Hermione had to know what he could do; she was the smartest person he knew.

Ron had gotten a response from Hermione that evening. Hermione had responded that she didn't know what he could do, but that sometimes you have to help people without them knowing that you were trying to help them. She had also said that sometimes if you pretended that you weren't trying to help them, even though both of you knew that you were trying to help them, then sometimes the appearance of not helping would allow you to help.

After reading that response, it was yet another moment when Ron realized that Hermione functioned on about five different emotional levels above him. It also reinforced his conclusion that all women are mental, particularly Hermione. But, since it came from Hermione, it must be correct; or at least two or three different written sources must have said it was correct.

On the third day - yesterday - Ron had awoken early yet again to check on Ginny. She was making a few noises, and she may have been crying, but it was not as bad at least. He had written Hermione again so that she wouldn't worry, putting poor little Pigwidgeon through yet another marathon. Ron had told Hermione that it seemed a little better that day. Ron had also told Hermione that he was eager for her to get there in two weeks before the two of them left for the Dursleys. He had thought about adding a phrase like "for Ginny" or something. In the end he had decided to just leave it as, "I can't wait to see you."

Ron had also decided to do something for Ginny like Hermione had said. Ron had figured out a way to get Ginny to talk to him. Unfortunately, Ron was going to have to admit some things he wasn't quite comfortable talking about. Ron had also gotten her a little present which he was sure would help her a bit.

Hermione had also responded again the same day, and Pigwidgeon had looked completely haggard and worn out by this time. Ron figured he had aged the barmy little bird by ten years in three days. Hermione had responded that she had talked to her parents and she was coming a week early, just in case "anyone" needed her. She had also told Ron that she missed him and couldn't wait to see him too.

Today, Ginny was crying worse than ever and Ron was at the end of his rope. He had Hermione's last letter in his pocket, and the present for Ginny. Now was the time when he had to do something or burst. He knocked softly on the door.

The sobs abruptly ceased and he heard a series of scuffling sounds inside along with several sniffs.

"Gin?" Ron asked. "You allright?"

He heard a soft groan come from the other side of the door. "Go way, Ron. I'm sleeping," said Ginny in a shaky voice,

"Uh...sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to you for a minute."

"Go away, please. I'm fine," lied Ginny.

Ron swallowed heavily, feeling his pride slide down his throat. He then whispered, "Well, actually, I need your help, if it's not too much trouble."

There was a hesitant silence. "Can't it wait until morning?"

"Well it is morning, Ginny. I've been up all night. Anyway, I can't sleep and I think that you're the only one who can help me."

"And why is that?" asked Ginny after another skeptical silence.

"Because you're the only girl here besides Mum, all right? I don't want anyone to overhear. Please let me in," whispered Ron plaintively.

"My, my, my, what in the world could this be about?" asked Ginny teasingly.

"C'mon, Gin, I'm serious. Let me in," whispered Ron urgently, a note of anger entering his voice.

"Not until you tell me what it's about," said Ginny firmly, but half-amused.

Ron stood in the hallway and wondered why he had ever wanted to help his foul little sister. He steeled himself for ridicule.

"All right, it's about Hermione, all right! I need advice about Hermione. She's coming early and something...I mean I want to do something...I mean...." Ron whispered fiercely. He was going to get even with Ginny for this someday. He felt mortified.

Ron heard the sound of a few more sniffs, and soft footsteps crossing the room. Ginny opened the door, looking disheveled. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she had hastily arranged her hair. Her normally straight shining tendrils looked a bit flat and unruly. Despite this, Ginny wore a hint of a smile on her face.

"I knew it." she said mildly.