Chapter 3
"Ron, I need to talk to you," Ginny said as she scampered into the tiny Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office.
"What? What is it? What's wrong? Are you okay?" asked Ron, a look of deepest concern etched on his face as he spun around in his squeaking chair. He stood up and suddenly dwarfed Ginny.
"I'm fine," she looked down at the paper strewn floor. When she finished examining a photo of a movie camera, Ginny looked up into the worried face of her brother, and smiled. "Please, just sit down. I don't like it when you're a foot and a half taller than me."
With a smile and an embarrassed "sorry," Ron sat down and turned toward Ginny, who had sat at his partner's desk. "What's on your mind?"
"Well, you know how you warned me when Draco made the Auror's?" she asked sheepishly.
"Yeah, but what does that have to do with you? You told me it wasn't a big deal," Ron replied.
Ginny scratched the top of her head. "Well, the reason it didn't matter to me was because there was something that happened that you don't know about."
"What? Ginny—you didn't, you know, did you?" Ron asked with the air that something wasn't right with his little sister.
"NO! Nothing like that! Well, sort of. You know when you went to America for that semester in your seventh year?" Ginny asked.
"Of course I do. It was great. Why?" Ronald was completely baffled by now.
"Well, that semester, I kind of, fell in love," Ginny said awkwardly.
"You know that I've gotten over the shock of you dating after my fifth year, right?" Ron asked as if this was very droll, but then it suddenly dawned on him what Ginny was trying to tell him. "YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH DRACO MALFOY?!" Words suddenly failed him as he shouted out his dismay.
"Well, err, yeah," she mumbled guiltily. Ron stood up and started pacing the tiny office, not much bigger than a broom cupboard. Mumbling in French, he frazzled his hair and loosened the collar of his robes. Ginny cradled her head in her hands and watched Ron pace awkwardly. Free papers scattered around his nervous feet, one floating on to Ginny's foot. She bent down to pick up the document, shifting posters and diagrams out of the way. Turning it over, she suddenly recognised it. It was a photo of the family. The whole family.
She was a mere baby, sitting next to her mother, who looked 20 years younger. Ron, new at standing unaided, stood warily on her other side, rocking from side to side. Fred and George had switched jumpers at the young age of four to trick any one who couldn't tell them apart. Ginny laughed as she watched them plant a spider on Ron's head. Percy was his usual neat and proper seven-year-old. It must have been the only photo he hadn't walked out of. A broomstick slung over one shoulder, Charlie looked as masculine as ever. Standing next to him was Bill, before the pierced ear and long hair. His hair still mirrored his rebellious nature, though. He had it dirty and shaggy, nothing that their parents saw appropriate for such a handsome young boy. And next to the oldest brother stood their father, looking the same as ever, muggle plugs spewing from his pockets.
Ginny smiled. She missed the times when they were just the big happy family of nine. Every one lived at home. Dad wasn't doing dangerous missions for the Order or the Ministry. Mum wasn't crying over Percy and Bill wasn't dating Fleur Delacour. Ron didn't speak French and she wasn't in complete heart ache over Draco. She turned the photo over, Ron still mumbling indistinguishable French. Ginny's eyes fell upon an inscription in her father's scrawl. "Ron—Never forget..."