Author's Note: I know this is ridiculously short. But I can't ignore that damn muse of mine. And it happens to like Ron/Ginny.
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Our lips part and I draw in a bitter breath of air. Everything is sour in comparison to the sweet nectar of her mouth; to taste it is to spoil every other flavour.
I should've thought of that before I kissed her.
She glances up at me as if realizing my identity for the first time. "Ron," she whispers.
I frown slightly at the mention of my name. "Ginny," I reply, hushed.
Contemplative eyes look into mine. We search each other, as if looking to recognize a distant acquaintance; I wish we could. I wish I could look at her, and not see my own red hair. Not see my own pale, freckled skin. Not see my baby sister…
"Why does this have to be wrong?" I ask her, trying to pull away, trembling from the withdrawal of her embrace. My body knows what it wants, and it betrays me. It raises my hand to push a ringlet of her silk-spun hair behind her delicate ear, so attentively listening to my words. She quivers beneath my touch.
Together we tremble, like a vibrating string ringing a single note – the poignant, devastating pitch of our love.
She smiles wanly at me. "Because it feels so right," she says, entwining my hand with hers.