Author's Note: I do not and never will own Harry Potter.
Written for the Occasion-a-Day Competition/Challenge. September 28 Prompt: Write about something within the family genre.
"Are you all right?" Ginny asks from Ron's doorway. Her voice is muffled around the thumb in her mouth, and she has a stuffed unicorn clutched to her pyjama-clad chest.
"Fine," Ron mutters, ears burning red. He can't remember the dream anymore, the last shreds of the nightmare blowing away. He doesn't think he screamed- he can't have, or his mum would be in here like a shot- so he doesn't understand why Ginny's there, barefoot and flush-faced.
"I can stay here if you want," his younger sister offers, sitting down beside the door. He looks at her for a moment, barely visible in the dim yellow glow of the night light his father charmed for him so he didn't have to be afraid of the dark.
"Come over here then," Ron says, patting the blankets beside him. He wants to tell her to go away, to go back to her room and shut the door, but he doesn't want to be alone either.
Ginny clambers up onto the bed, tucking her feet underneath her. It's a bit cold in the Burrow tonight, so he doesn't understand why she's not wearing her socks.
"How'd you know anyway?" he asks. She shrugs, carefully tucking her unicorn under the covers.
"Woke up," she replies. "Heard you crying."
"Was not!" he denies, but he can feel the strangely stiff remnants of tear tracks down his cheeks, now that she's brought it to his attention.
"Right," Ginny snorts, flopping down on his pillow. He shoves her over, just enough so that he has the lion's share of the bed.
"Shut up and go back to sleep," Ron grumbles, but he can't help smiling anyway.