The Sky on Fire

It was a warm evening, and the rays of the summer sun created an artwork over the sky. A myriad of colours; that burst from every corner and travelled as far as the eye could see.

They sat on the old brick wall, and watched as the sky became a fire, and then darkened from its height downwards, until the stars came out and looked down upon them.

Ron felt Ginny sigh against him, and he pulled her close again, and leaned his head on hers. It had been three long days. Three, long, empty days since that terrible afternoon. Voldemort was defeated, the wizarding world was safe again, and Harry was gone. He wasn't dead; they just didn't know where he was. He had disappeared, the moment the curse had left his wand he was gone. As soon as he knew he had performed the task, he vanished.

That day had broken Ginny's heart. She wanted to tell him so badly how sorry she was, how she hadn't meant a word of what she had said the day before. But she never saw him again after that. She had told Ron everything, not trusting herself not to do something stupid in the pain. He had taken her to the place they sat now, and had told her to look out, over the entire land stretched before them, and told her that somewhere, out there, in the open place that was the world, Harry was somewhere, and that he would always remember her.

So they sat; and Ginny remembered everything they had been through. All the happiness she had felt when he told her that he loved her, how she had felt to have him just hold her. She remembered the night they had spent at the astronomy tower, how she had sweated beneath him, and how she had sworn her love to him, in a voice she had never used before. She remembered how she had screamed at him, those four nights ago, how he had thrown the vase, how he had screamed right back at her, lifting his hair from his face, "Do you really think I enjoy this? Do you think I want to have to leave you and not know if I will see you again? Do you honestly think I want this fucking image stamped on my head, branding me as the saviour of this bloody place?" He had been so angry that night. She never had the chance to apologise to him for accusing him of not loving her enough. She regretted that for every moment of her being now. She just wanted him to know that she loved him.

Ron sat, remembering too. He remembered when he met Harry, that day on the train. He remembered the skinny boy that sat with him, and talked like they had known each other for years. He remembered the way that Harry puzzled over a text book, or would scratch his left ear when he couldn't figure something out. He remembered how his friend had come to him that fateful night four days earlier, and had told him about the fight, and how he had said how much he loved Ginny. Ron had promised not to tell Ginny about what Harry had said, and Ron never though it would be because of his impending disappearance. Ron remembered the hurt he had felt when Harry vanished, and the hurt he had seen in his sister's face.

The sky became darker still, and night followed after evening. Ginny looked up from Ron's chest, and spoke, "I love him, Ron, I truly do." Ron remained staring out at the horizon, and didn't look down at his sister. He felt the unspoken words well up inside him, yet he didn't trust them out in the open. "Me too, Ginny, me too."