All That I'll Ever Ruin

When I was little I had an irrational fear of the dark. I'm sure every child has gone through this but for most it was because of the monster in the closet, or the ghost in the attic, or for some I'm sure it was because of the witch at the window. But none of these reasons suited me for I was the witch at the window, and I knew the ghost in the attic, and I talked to the monster in the closet. I still can't quite understand it but never could I sleep without my faithful candle. Mother never knew about that candle, or about my fear of the dark. Ron knew though. If ever I couldn't find the matches to light my candle I'd tip-toe silently down the hall and quietly open the door to his room. I'd walk over to his bed and crawl under his fluffy orange comforter. I'd snuggle into the safety of his arms as he wrapped them around me.

It was like that in the beginning at least.

Then he went away for that month and came back changed. Mother had sent him away, and I'll never forgive her. He had done some magic, he was seven at the time, how was he supposed to know better than to play with daddy's wand? He was never told not to. He was also never told not to read daddy's papers. Daddy had to clear over a case where the cruciatus curse had been used on a muggle, and Ron had just learned to read. So he went outside and "played" with the squirrels. They sent him to St. Mungo's in the boys psychiatric ward. He was gone for an entire month and I had to fight the dark myself.

I wasn't awake when he came back, but I was in his bed. I had a nightmare and gone to his room by instinct. He walked in that night and I woke up instantly. I jumped out of bed and into his chest. He quickly wrapped his arms around me, and once more I felt safe. He laid me back in the bed and told me to close my eyes. I did as I was told and he laid down next to me. I couldn't contain my excitement. He was back and all I wanted to do was talk to him. But every time I went to open my mouth he would place his finger over my lips and tell me to go to sleep. I finally obeyed and fell into a restless sleep.

I was never a heavy sleeper, so when he moved his hand from around my waist to the space just below the pit of my knee my eyes shot open. I didn't move yet, I thought that maybe he was sleeping, I was hoping my hardest he wasn't doing this intentionally. But I knew he was when his hand slid from my knee up my inner thigh and under my overly large t-shirt. I turned my head around and in the candle light I could see his face as he smiled at me.

It wasn't a fake smile, or was it a menacing one, it was the same one he had given me all of my six years. I trusted that smile I always had, but I never would again after that night. His hand slid all the way up my thigh and into my underwear. He only rubbed for a moment while I tried to move away from him, but he took his other hand and easily held me down as he slipped his fingers inside of me. I whimpered in pain, too embarrassed to cry, but he just smiled at me and told me he loved me. He took my shirt off over my head, I quickly learned there wasn't much I could do to stop him. He was much stronger than me, as he always had been, and he was determined to get what he wanted. He took off my underwear next, I was naked in my brother's bed, he slipped easily out of his clothes next. I tried then to get out of the bed, but he pushed me back down harshly.

I could feel his skin against mine now, and I began to cry. He crawled on top of me and whispered that he promised to be gentle. I started to sob silently, he glared at me for a moment before prying my legs open and whispering harshly to stop being such a baby. I screamed in pain as he slipped into me. He covered my mouth with his hand, and told me to shut up.

I didn't understand what he was doing then, but I decided it would be better to just close my eyes and imagine I wasn't there. It worked pretty well until he began to go harder and faster. He was shaking the bed now, and I couldn't help but notice the pounding of the head board against the wall. I was so sure that the pounding would wake Fred and George, and they would come stop him. But the pounding went on and no one came to help me. He finished pretty quickly and allowed me to go back to my room.

I had barely made it out of his door before I fell, my insides were writhing as if they had been set on fire instead of my candle, which I had left in his bedroom. I was crying loudly now. I slowly stood up and tested my legs, surprisingly, they didn't give out beneath me. I stood up again and actually made it to my room.

Once I had gotten to my bed, I laid down and began sobbing. I had curled into a ball, shivering and shaking, my teeth chattering in the cold because I didn't have the strength to pull the blanket over myself. I supposed that I was louder than I thought, because soon there was a slight knock on my door. Before I could answer, in stepped both Fred and George.

They both came and sat on my bad, each putting one hand tenderly on my back. I slightly flinched at their touch, but soon relaxed and began breathing again. I crawled away from them and laid my head on my pillow. Each of them took their place on either side of me and placed an arm protectively around me. George whispered something about a peanut butter and Ginny sandwich which made a smile spread across my face. I curled into his chest and fell asleep to the sound of his heart beating.

I woke up the next morning just as the sun was coming up. I crawled out from between Fred and George, making sure not to wake them as I did so. I went down to the kitchen and sat down at the table as I waited for the rest of the family to come downstairs. Mother came downstairs first, she greeted me warmly before going about her morning chores. I sat at the table for an hour or more before everyone had come down stairs, everyone but Ron. I was still sitting at the table, now alone, When he finally did come down the stairs. He walked down slowly as the light from the window gave him a golden glow and made him look like a sun-god. He looked at me as he reached the bottom and gave me the same old sleepy smile he always had. I looked away and silently vowed not to tell on him. I knew my real brother was still in there somewhere, if he could still look me in the eye and smile like that, then what he had done to me wasn't that bad, at least that's what I told myself.

That night he came to my room. I didn't protest this time. I let him do what he wanted. But when I felt him go inside me I was waiting for the same pain I had felt the night before, but in it's place was a spectacular feeling. It was as if my insides had exploded, but in a good way. I'm sure he felt me move beneath him, because he began to go harder and faster. As he kept going he moved his hands across my skin. As he brought me to my climax, I moaned out in pleasure. He looked down at me and brought his mouth into a grin. He looked at me, panting and flushed, before pulling me into a bruising kiss. He touched every inch of my body as he came inside me, filling me with warmth. We were both sweaty and breathless as he pulled out of me and sprawled on his back next to me. He rolled over onto his side and looked me up and down before smiling again. He took his fingers and lightly traced the skin across my stomach. He put his hand on my hip and pulled me close to him. me head was against his chest, I was listening to his erratic heart beat when he cupped my chin in his hand and tilted upwards towards him. He kissed me gently before wrapping his arms around me and letting himself drift to sleep.

It went on like this for the next three years, him coming to me just about every night and having whatever he wanted. It was all fine until he received his acceptance letter to Hogwartz. He went away a few months later, and I didn't see him again until the summer, but he was different then. He had changed again, he didn't notice I was there anymore. That sleepy smile he used to give me every morning didn't seem to be there any longer.

Then Harry came. I noticed the way he looked at me first thing. It was the same look Ron had given me right before he was about to start. Harry thought I was attractive, this much I knew from the beginning. But I was well endowed for an eleven year old. I had already hit puberty by then, and most of my robes were already tight around the chest.

I went to Diagon Alley with them that year. I had received my acceptance letter already. But when we got there, we went in search of a girl named Hermione. We found her soon after we arrived. Actually before we found Harry. He had disappeared into Knockturn Alley. But Ron didn't seem to notice Harry's absence after we found Hermione. The look in his eyes gave him away. He no longer loved me. He was hers now and I couldn't have him back. One fact I was determined to prove wrong. I believed I could subtly get him back, but he didn't notice me anymore.

We went to school together and through my first three years I tried every tactic I could. I tried to make him jealous, I tried to seduce him, I tried a love spell. But nothing worked.

It wasn't until my fourth year when I realized I couldn't ever have him back. It was one morning in the middle of the school year, when he was coming down the stairs. He walked down slowly as the light from the window gave him a golden glow and made him look like a sun-god. When he reached the bottom he looked at her, he looked at Hermione, rubbed his eyes and smiled. He gave her a sweet sleepy smile. My smile. She had stolen my smile!

And that's when I snapped. That's when I went mad. That's when I decided what I had to do. I knew it then. I'd make her suffer like she had made me suffer. I was going to take him from her as she had done to me.

I met up with him in the common room that night. I met up with him and told him how much I loved him. At first he just stared at me, then he began to explain why we couldn't be together. I looked at him for a moment before I pulled out the gun. A gun, it's a muggle device for killing, much messier than a killing curse, and that's how I wanted it. I pulled it out and pointed it at him, he asked me what it was, he never even knew what was coming. A moment after he stopped speaking, he was on the floor. He was dying now. I had shot him in the heart. I leaned down and kissed him on the lips before telling him one last time I loved him, I told him that this was his fault, if I couldn't love him, then neither could she. I like to believe that he understands why I did it, but I know I'm just flattering myself.

I laid my head on his chest then, listening to his slowing heartbeat as I took one last breath and shot myself in the temple. I died with him. I died for him. Now I can love him forever, and she is alone.