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.

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.