I own them not. For writing stuff goodness. Bill/Ginny, Charlie/Ginny.
Summertime
By Kath. "Summertime" is by George Gershwin.
Summertime, and the living is easy.
Fish are jumping,
And the cotton is high
Summers are glorious. Summers are like her brothers' skin, warm and bright and golden and perfect. Ginny's convinced her brothers are the best brothers a girl could ever have because they love her.
When she was little, before she went to Hogwarts, she didn't really have any friends (which is why she was so, so shy before she got to school and slowly blossomed). Who could need friends when there's a veritable contingent of Weasley men out to make sure their baby sister has the best of everything?
So the summers of Ginny's childhood are a colourful collage of long grasses and warm days and sunshine on seven red heads and her brother's arms around her if she fell and scraped her knee, and brother's lips kissing her better, twins tickling her mercilessly in the pond till Percy comes and prevents her from drowning, smiling at her, because Percy is really very nice.
She also has memories of brothers coming home, one smelling like cold mountain air and copper and magic and dragons and bringing her back beautiful dragonleather boots or bags, or sometimes just a river of dragonfly coloured scales, which is really just as nice and she uses to make necklaces that the girls at school envy.
Or Bill, walking in smelling hot and exotic and spicy and she can feel the sand on his skin and his fingers when he holds her at night, and bringer her back light dresses made of thin, thin fabric, showing knobbly young knees when he asks her to twirl.
Her brothers are safe. She feels safer with brothers than she does with parents, and when brothers are around, no one will hurt her (which is true – no man wants to be made a eunuch because he made the collective Weasley clan mad) .
And since they are safe, Brothers are the only boys Ginny Weasley holds close to her heart while she dreams.
So hush now baby
Don't you cry