A/N A new installment. The theme here is sisters.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.


Sisters

"So, how was Hermione?" Harry asked Ron as the latter sat on the sofa.

Ron had just returned from Hogsmeade and looked positively giddy, as if still under the effect of a very potent cheering charm.

"Brilliant. We didn't talk much actually," Ron replied, still radiating happiness.

Harry made a grimace of repulsion.

"I really don't want to hear about this. Seriously! I just want to know how Hermione is doing since I didn't see her. I don't want to hear what you two did. Or do you want me to start talking about how Ginny and I spent the afternoon?"

That wiped the smile off Ron's face. He replied somewhat coldly:

"As far as I am concerned, you and Ginny just look at each other. Maybe you can hold hands every now and then but that's it. She's my little sister, mate," he added pleadingly.

Ron started rummaging through his things and produced a picture.

"Look, this is what I think of when I think of Ginny," he told Harry while shoving the picture in his hands.

Harry took the picture and couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips. He easily recognized a much younger Ron and Ginny, standing in the orchard at the Burrow. Ginny was missing some front teeth and had her red locks held in twin plaits. Her brown eyes radiated with mischief, a look Harry had seen on occasions when Ginny was up to something rather naughty. Ron had a protective arm around her. He had already been tall, as evidenced by trousers that were too short and sleeves that did not quite reach his wrists. He sported an equally mischievous smile on his face. Both were waving brightly at the camera.

"How old were you?" Harry asked Ron, amused.

"Mum took this after Fred and George went to school. It was just Ginny and me left at home. I reckon I was nine and Ginny just turned eight. We had told Mum we were going to de-gnome the garden but were actually planning to spend the afternoon trying to fly on some old broomsticks in the orchard and that's what we did. When Mum found out; you know how Mum always finds out; she asked us whose idea it was. Ginny said it was hers at the same time I said it was mine. Mum punished us both but she had been feeling a bit off since Fred and George left so we just had to feed the chickens. Anyway, it was one of the best afternoons we had."

"Is that really the way you still see Ginny? Plaits and missing teeth? Is that why you can't see her as the woman she is?" Harry felt compelled to ask.

"Well, yeah. I just can't imagine Ginny with a bloke, even if he's my best mate," Ron admitted.

"Right," was Harry's reply. "You do look adorable too on that picture, you know," Harry added cheekily.

"Shut it Harry or I'll start talking about my afternoon with Hermione."


Andromeda looked at the picture staring from the front page of the Daily Prophet. Bellatrix had escaped from Azkaban. Bella looked quite demented on the picture, screaming and writhing. Andromeda was somewhat relieved by this. It diminished the strong resemblance that existed between her and her sister. Her sister whom she had not seen or spoken to in over twenty years, ever since she defied the idiotic Black family prejudice and chose to marry Ted, not caring the least bit about the blood status of the man she loved.

Andromeda remembered how beautiful Bella had been. Not the delicate beauty of Cissy. Bella had been bold, brazen, blessed with aristocratic good looks and sumptuous black hair. And she, Andromeda, had always been only a pale imitation of her older sister. Azkaban had been unkind, Andromeda mused. It was a fair payment for Bella's crimes and they were numerous. Andromeda hoped her sister would soon be caught and sent back to Azkaban, even though a very small part of her still hoped that Bella could get to safety.


Vernon was asleep, snoring loudly in their bed. Petunia couldn't sleep. She was still processing the events of the day. Lily was dead. She got out of bed, taking care not to wake up Vernon. She checked on Dudley next door who was also sound asleep amidst a mountain of stuffed animals. She then opened the box in which she kept a few older pictures. Here they were, the last vestiges, or so she had thought, proving she had had a sister. Pictures of Lily. The most recent was a bit over a year-old. It was one that moved, from that freak universe Lily had lived in. It was Lily holding a small baby with a full head of black untidy hair. Her long auburn curls were tied into a loose pony tail. She looked elated, worried, and exhausted at the same time. Petunia turned the picture over to see Lily's flowing handwriting: Tuney, you are an aunt. This is Harry. I still love you. Lily. Petunia turned the picture back to look at her sister's green eyes, the same as the toddler's sleeping in a cot downstairs. She was surprised to see the picture get wet until she realised it was her tears.


A/N Here you are. Let me know what you think... Reviews are wonderful you know.