DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to J. K. Rowling—only the ideas are
mine. No copyright infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I love socks! ( Even if they are mismatched or
threadbare, colourful and frilly or white, they always have their own
personality. When I started this ficlet, I was thinking of writing about
Ginny's first encounter with Harry (Did I ever tell you they were meant for
eachother?), but it evolved. It now focuses on Ginny and Ron's
brother/sister relationship, with a healthy dose of socks. Enjoy, and
please R&R.
The First Sock Raid by beckstar
A golden glow blanketed the green hillsides and brush in England. As it reached a rather lopsided house, it warmed the light of a small room on the eastern side, gently coaxing a girl around the age of ten into wakefulness. Deep red hair lay splayed out against her pillow. She turned her back to the window, trying to recapture the dream she was having, but it slipped like sand through the fingers of her consciousness.
Ginny's eyes fluttered open. The moment she realized what the day signified, she couldn't help but feel sad. Ron was leaving for his first year of Hogwarts—without her.
It was still the wee morning hours when dew clung to the grass outside the Burrow and the garden gnomes hadn't yet come out to play (or most likely, chucked from the yard by a pair of steady hands), but Ginny was wide awake.
She flung off her sheets, and crept to her brother's room.
When she reached his door, she could hear his violent snores—snores so loud they could probably wake the dead. Giggling at the thought, she tiptoed over the knick-knacks strewn haphazardly across the floor.
Just as she neared his bed, she tripped over some of his clothes and went crashing to the floor with a loud thump. She held her breath. Heart pounding in her chest, she listened for any indication of movement.
Snoring resumed, and she let out the breath she'd been holding. Though she was close to Ron, he wouldn't take to kindly to her waking him this early in the morning. That was the first rule she'd learned with Ron.
Living with six older brothers also taught her the inner workings of a guy's mind. They were embarrassed by any shows of emotion, Ron especially. His ear would turn bright red. Fred and George loved to tease him about it. So she was saying goodbye to him the only way she could, while he slept.
As she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, she murmured, "I'm going to miss you. Home's going to be lonely. Who will play with me or help me clear out the garden gnomes?"
Ron grunted, and resumed snoring. Ginny mused how talking to him in his sleep almost reminded her of talking to him while he was awake.
"I guess I'll get to see you next year, but by then, you'll have your own friends. You won't want to hang around me."
It was nearing the time her mom would come screeching through the hall. No matter how much preparation they took it always seemed they were in a rush to make the Hogwarts Express. As Ginny tiptoed through the maze of things scattered on the floor back to the door, a pair of orange, woolly Chudley Cannon socks caught her eye. A moment's impulse, she snatched them up and scampered out the room.
In the hallway, she slipped on the socks, wriggling her toes. They were perfect, a warm reminder of her brother—almost like a hug. Even though he'd be gone, the socks would be a daily reminder that he loved her (even though he'd never tell her this to her face). She smiled despite her sadness.
That was the day of Ginny's first sock raid.