Written for Hogwarts' Around the World Event: Suriname - Action: Sunbathing, the Love in Motion Event: GinnyRon, the Writing Club: Days of the Month - Universal Children's Day - Write a kidfic (anyone younger than 11), Showtime - Spy Again - (emotion) Regret, Count Your Buttons: (word) collide.

Word count: 1218

the rest is still unwritten

Today was such a lovely day. From the moment she had woken up, Ginny had known that today would be a good day. She had accomplished her chores in record time — not that she had many, since her room was mostly clean already and degnoming the week after the Fred and George didn't take long.

Her mother had conjured her a soft blanket for her to lie on and let her go with instructions not to wander off and to be back for lunch.

That had been almost an hour ago now, but Ginny still wasn't inclined to move. She had found the perfect spot to watch the clouds drift by, their white silhouettes standing out so nicely against the deep blue of the summer sky.

She missed Luna though. Cloud watching was always more fun when the blonde was around, but after what had happened with her mother, Luna's father didn't really like her going out as much as she had used to.

In fact, Ginny rarely ever saw her anymore. She curled up on herself, trying to let the sunlight warm her chilled bones.

She couldn't imagine what Luna must be going through — just the thought of losing her own mother was enough to drive Ginny to tears — but she hated that she couldn't help. She wished there was something she could do, a way for her to help.

Had this been last summer, Luna and she would have been on this blanket together, and Luna would have been telling her all about the weird creatures she saw in the clouds. After that, they'd have gone exploring, and it'd have been so much fun.

Ginny really wished she had known those days of fun had been numbered — she thought she had have enjoyed them more then.

A shadow suddenly fell over her. Ginny cracked her eyes open, only realizing that they'd been closed when she had to blink several times to adjust to the brightness of sunlight. She scrambled to sit up, glaring at her brother.

"Ron, you're blocking my sun," she said, crossing her arms and looking up at him with a scowl. "Move."

Ron scowled back. "It's not your sun — I don't see your name on it." Still, he stepped to the side and Ginny's sunshine returned. She let out a sigh of content as it warmed her skin.

Ron took it as a sign to drop down at her side. "So, what are you up to?"

Ginny eyed him with suspicion, but he didn't appear to want to mock her the way her brothers sometimes liked to. His interest looked genuine, so Ginny relaxed and leaned back on her elbows, looking up at the sky.

"I was cloud watching," she admitted.

Ron fidgeted in the way that meant he was trying not to be a rude — something their mother despaired he would ever learn — and Ginny smiled.

"You don't have to stay," she said, shrugging. "It's fine if you want to go, like, play Quidditch with Fred and George or something."

It wasn't fine that they never invited her to play with them but she had gotten used to it. Besides, they would get what was coming for them when she started Hogwarts and ended up on the team, flying circles around them.

Ugh, she couldn't believe that she had to wait for two more years until she could finally go to Hogwarts with her brothers instead of staying behind.

"Fred and George are experimenting in their room again," Ron said with a pout. They shared a knowing look — no one wanted to be in the twins' path when they started looking for test subjects. "And everyone else's too busy to play."

"Well, you can cloud watch with me, then."

"Thanks, Ginny." Ron shot her a grateful smile and laid back, mimicking her position as he cracked his neck to look at the sky.

He lasted five minutes. "... What am I supposed to be looking for, exactly?"

Ginny stifled a giggle. "Nothing, really. You just… look at the clouds and say what they remind you of."

Ron looked at her in horror. "And you do this for fun?"

Ginny rolled her eyes before giving him her best imitation of their mother's glare — she thought it was pretty good and, judging from Ron's flinch, he agreed. "Yes, Ronald, I do this for fun. I'm not very good at it though," she admitted mournfully, her anger leaving her as quickly as it had risen.

Ron's eyes widened in realization and he bit his lips shamefully. "Oh," he said, "you did this with your friend, right?"

Ginny nodded. "Luna, yeah," she said, heart constricting painfully in her chest. For an instant, she thought she heard Luna's crystalline laughter and she nearly spun around — but it was just the wind. She knew it was just the wind. "She was great at making up stories with what we saw."

She was startled out of her melancholia by Ron reaching for her hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm sorry," he said, looking sheepish. "I didn't mean to make you sad."

"It's fine." Ginny shrugged. "I just… I miss her," she confessed. "I wish she could just come back and be my friend again, like before."

It was impossible though, and they both knew it. Even if Luna did come back, things would be different.

"Maybe… Maybe we could write her a letter?" Ron suggested tentatively. "So you could tell her that you miss her and hope she's doing okay?"

"Ron, that's a brilliant idea!" Ginny grinned widely and rolled over, colliding with her brother almost painfully as she drew him into a thankful hug.

"It is?" Ron squeaked. "I mean, yes, of course it is, it was my idea." He gave a weak chuckle. "My brilliant idea…"

Ginny pulled back, rolling her eyes at him. "Don't ruin it."

Ron gaped. His mouth fell shut with an audible click after a while, but it took him a while to ask, "So, when are we doing this letter?"

Ginny thought about it, eyes drifting back to the sky. A big cloud shaped like a duck obscured the sun for a moment, and she instantly shivered as she instantly felt colder. "After lunch."

She wanted to do it right now, to rush inside and grab a quill and some parchment and just send it all to Luna, but it would be useless to hurry — their mother had sent Erol off that morning and he wouldn't be back until the afternoon (if they were lucky).

But even though writing the letter now would only lead to wasted parchment as she rewrote everything a hundred times while waiting for their owl to return, Ginny could still write it in her head.

And she would; until that letter was perfect.

She smiled at her brother. "Hey, Ron?"

"What is it?"

"Thank you for helping me with this," she said, fingers pulling at the hem of her shirt.

Ron smiled back, nudging her gently with his shoulder. "Of course," he said. He leaned back, eyes staring straight at the sky. "Hey," he said suddenly, "don't you think that cloud looks like a piece of pie?"

As if on cue, his stomach growled, and Ginny laughed.