Sibling Love Never Diminishes
The days past of which Ginny Weasley looked back at were obvious in her facial expression: weary eyes, wrinkles, and her smile never had quite its touch to it anymore. Especially on the day of his birthday. Every year on that specific date she would go to his grave, and lay flowers on the headstone. Today was that day.
She woke casually, as she had any other day, and stood up. Looking at her calendar, she sighed. A heart circled today, and in the center was his name. She had always been close to her brother; he was only two years older than she was, yet for some reason, he seemed like the same age. She remembered the days when he would place her on his broom and fly her around, laughing as she pushed him off and into a bush.
Stretching, she meandered over to the bathroom and looked at the mirror. Her eyes were somnolent; they showed exhaustion and fatigue. She tried smiling, but nothing came out, just a long frown, her pink lips looking drained of their color. Sighing, she got dressed quickly, not bothering to take a shower for she was too tired to do so.
She left the house in a hurry with her emerald cloaks flying behind her in the autumn wind. She always wore emerald cloaks to his burial ground; his favorite color was green. She hopped on her broom, checking the street to see if any muggles were there. Nobody was; they never woke up at five in the morning.
As she flew over buildings and above clouds, she couldn't help but look down at the streets below her. Few people were up, walking about and grabbing their newspapers. Muggles had no real sorrow in life; they didn't have to fight an evil lord every single day and lose so many decent wizards. Or perhaps they fought their own wars that the wizards and witches stayed out of. Who really knew?
A sigh passed out of her mouth as she stopped flying, hovering above the cemetery. Because it was a wizarding cemetery, it was invisible to the muggle eye. She held her broom as she slowly walked up to his grave. Standing, their eyes dreary and dismal, was Molly Weasley and Bill Weasley. The only two people in her family who had not been at the war; Ron was off fighting side-by-side with Harry near Hogwarts, the most dangerous spot to be at the time. Arthur and Percy were at the Ministry, overloaded by paperwork and both having a horrid case of insomnia. Charlie and Fred were off in Romania, catching dragons to tame and use as weapons against You-Know-Who.
Why did she even think "You-Know-Who"? Did she not have enough guts to say his name? To speak his name, even? Voldemort; it's not that bad of a name. Except it carries a reputation which burns hatred into the hearts and eyes of every wizard or witch in the wizarding world. She walked up behind her mother and brother, grasping each of their hands as she stood in between them.
She stared down at the grave, her eyes filling with tears. There sat his headstone with his name engraved upon it in emerald carvings.
Tears filled her eyes again as Bill began crying. He grasped her hand as tears fluently flowed down their faces, yet their mother stood there, stock-still. She sighed a deep sigh, one of those sighs that makes your heart ache when you look at the person issuing it. They all sat down and hugged each other, now all having tears flow constantly down their cheeks, unstoppable.
Bill began choking on his tears as he tried to speak. Ginny rested her head on his shoulder as she tightened her mother's hand. Sitting silently after about three minutes, tears still flowing, their mother stood up. She kissed them both tenderly, looking at them and smiling with the smile that she had always had before the War. She walked away and slowly grabbed her own broom, flying off back to the Burrow, leaving Bill and Ginny to sit there, alone, with George's spirit resting over them.
She sat close to him, holding his hand tightly, her head still resting on his shoulder. She felt him sigh as he looked down at the wilted roses they had put on the tombstone the last time they had visited. Gently putting them on the sides of the grave, lining them in an orderly fashion, he placed his new gift on the right of the tombstone, next to their mothers, which were in the center. Ginny gathered up all the wits she had left and placed her lilacs on the left of their mother's tulips. She grabbed a newly fallen leaf, still green with chlorophyll and gently placed it in the center, on top of the tulips.
Footsteps behind them warned of people coming up behind them, yet they failed to lift their heads and acknowledge the presence of the persons. Two people sat next to them, hand-in-hand as they stared at their friends, eyes tearful and dismal. Ginny's heart filled as she realized who they were.
"Oh, Hermione! Ron!" Standing up with heartily movements, she flung her arms around her brother, tears flowing from her face. Bill silently stood up and embraced Hermione as a sister, and then stared at Ron. Ron hugged him, as the tears did not come.
They all sat down, encircling the grave. Only one question was on Ginny's mind: Where is Harry Potter? Although that was the only question on her mind, her mind was full of thoughts. Thoughts of George mostly, yet her siblings and father were on her mind too. Yet, her thoughts were only stuck on George. George, her older brother, the same brother who cradled her when she had gotten sick. The same brother who, the day before he left to go fight beside Harry and Ron, held her closely. She remembers it exactly, every single detail.
"Gin? Oh, come on, Gin! Don't cry, gel! You know I'll be okay; I'll think about you. I'll bring you back a souvenir! A tree branch from the Whomping Willow, eh? You know I'll remember you. You're my favorite and only sister!" George said, gently patting her head and nudging her arm.
"Oh, all right George. Don't fret about me; I'm fine. I'll just . . . you know, miss you. You're my big brother!" Ginny said, ruffling his hair and standing up. He stood up too and they went and sat on the big branch of their tree in the backyard. The fall breeze gently grazed their red hair and wisps fell into Ginny's hair. It was dusk; the moon was slowly rising in the east, its great bulk pulling itself up into the black oblivion.
They sat, staring at the moon and the stars; dusk was their favorite time of day. Brother and sister for eighteen long years, the two siblings sat and hugged, Ginny's tears gently rolling into his shoulder. He gripped her, his tears also flowing, yet dripping onto the already wet grass from the earlier rain. Again, George pulled his sister close as they awaited their mother to call them in. George needed a good, last sleep before he went off to fight.
Ginny was jolted back to reality as Bill tugged at her sleeve. Apparently, Hermione and Ron had already left, gone back to the Burrow to visit Mrs. Weasley. She cradled in Bill's arms for one moment. Turning around, she whispered to the grave in words that only George would hear.
"Happy birthday, George. I'll see your face in the moon every time at dusk."