A/N: Written by Chaser 1 of Montrose Magpies for QLFC Round 12.

Prompt: Write about Ron's relationship with one of his siblings

Optional prompts: (object) book; (word) potential; (song) Pure Imagination - Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Also for the Build a Zoo Challenge with the prompt 'pink'.

Word count: 2984

Ron shot Ginny a baleful look as she sat cross-legged on the floor, filling in the colouring book their parents had given her for her fourth birthday with a pink crayon. Their dad had taken their older brothers out fishing for the day, but their mum hadn't allowed him to accompany them. He was too young, she'd said, and it wouldn't be fair on Ginny.

That was stupid. Yes, he was only four, but Fred and George had gone on the fishing trips when they were his age! Besides, all Ginny wanted to do was colour in. Where was the fun in that? And why did he have to be here for it? She would have been just as happy on her own.

Back when Ginny was a baby, he'd been allowed to go out with his dad and brothers. It was only now that she was old enough to want to go too—and old enough to throw a tantrum about it—that he was expected to stay behind as well.

"Oh, Ginny, that's so pretty," their mum said as she stood up from the sofa, where she was knitting the annual Christmas sweaters, and crouched down beside his sister. "Isn't it pretty, Ron? You know, you have the potential to be a great artist one day, sweetheart."

Ginny beamed at the compliment, her smile toothy and arresting.

"I guess," Ron muttered. Ducking his head, he looked down at the toy train that he had been putting together for the last half an hour. Bill had wanted to do it with him, but since Bill was out and Ron was home, Bill didn't get a say.

It wasn't that Ron didn't love his little sister. She was alright, as far as siblings went. She wasn't mean like the twins or boring like Percy or away half the year like Bill and Charlie. But it wasn't fair that they had to be stuck together all the time just because they were the youngest.

Besides, their mum never told him that he had potential. Anything he did, one of his brothers had already done—and better, too. With Ginny, it seemed, everything was new and exciting.

Fred had told him once that their parents had never wanted him—that they'd been trying for a girl and had been stuck with him instead. If one of the twins had been a girl, Ron and Ginny would never have been born.

Ron didn't know what to think about that. When he'd asked his parents about it, they'd told him that they loved all their children equally, and they'd grounded Fred for a month. But while he was content to believe them most of the time, there were times—like now—when he wondered whether there might have been some truth in it after all. He was one of a crowd; Ginny was special.

"Ron?" Ginny asked as their mum walked back to the sofa. "Want to play make-believe?"

For a moment, he hesitated. But then he nodded. If he had to be stuck at home, he might as well do something fun while he was there. Disappearing into a world of pure imagination would be a good way of passing the time. "Outside?"

She pulled a face. "Of course."

At least they agreed on that. "Alright, then."

By the time the others got home a few hours later, their minds had transformed the garden into a sprawling wonderland of castles and moats. Ron and Ginny were pretending to be two young dragons who had been taken from their home shortly after hatching. Now, they 'flew' around the kingdom with their powerful wings as they sought to reclaim it.

It was almost as good as fishing.

-x-

Heart beating as fast as a stampeding hippogriff, Ron paced back and forth as he waited in the sewerage system with Lockhart. He had never been this terrified in his life. How long had Harry been down there? Five minutes? Ten? It felt like an eternity. And what about Ginny?

Hot, frustrated tears escaped his eyes, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. He hated this—hated knowing that his little sister might be dying—might already be dead—might have died, alone and forgotten, not knowing whether her family would ever know why.

"This place could do with a nice spring cleaning, you know," Lockhart was saying, his voice too chipper for the dank environment. "It's important to take care of your home."

"Shut up!" Ron snapped, whirling around to face him, his face twisted into a snarl. Hermione would have been horrified at him for speaking to a professor like that, but he didn't care. "Just… shut up. Now's not the time, alright?"

"Well, I'll never!" Lockhart exclaimed, but at Ron's answering glare, he mimed zipping his lips closed before holding his hands up innocently.

Closing his eyes, Ron thought. Staying here like this, useless and waiting, was going to drive him mad. But he couldn't very well go back to the surface alone. He had to think of something else. This was like a chessboard; he was just a pawn, and he was too far away to help with checkmating the king, but there had to be something he could do.

Suddenly, it hit him. His eyes shot open, and he hurried over to the pile of rubble that was blocking his way. If Harry and Ginny made it back—when they did—they'd need a way to get out. That was something he could do! He'd have to be careful not to remove so much that it caused another cave-in, of course, but it would be useful.

"Help me with this," he told Lockhart. "But we have to be very, very quiet because if we're too loud, we might make the damage worse."

Ron had no idea whether that was the case. Fortunately, it looked like he'd either guessed correctly, or Lockhart's tales of brave cave expeditions were as false as everything else about him, or that too had been taken by the Memory Charm, for he seemed to believe Ron's hasty lie.

Ron threw himself into the work, ignoring the way his arms ached. And if his eyes welled up again when Harry and Ginny climbed back through—pale and battered but somehow, miraculously, alive—nobody but Lockhart noticed.

-x-

Ron awkwardly sat down next to Ginny. Curled up in an armchair in the living room of the Burrow, she was reading a book whose cover promised miracle cures for broken hearts in big, bold print. Ever since Dumbledore died and Harry broke up with her, she had been acting withdrawn. She hadn't said much about it, but he knew she was taking it hard.

No wonder. If he'd finally started dating Hermione, only for her to break up with him a few weeks later…

Well, he could empathise.

After Voldemort almost killed her down in the Chamber, Ron had developed a new appreciation for his sister. They still sniped at one another like cats testing for weaknesses, and he still hated how everyone lumped them together just because they were the youngest, but it was different now. He'd had to face the possibility of life with her dead, and he hadn't liked what he'd seen.

For the most part, he hadn't said anything about Harry, figuring that it was easier for both of them that way. But the Order was getting ready to go to Privet Drive to extract Harry, and he knew that seeing him again would be hard for her.

"Anything got potential?" he asked, nodding at the book.

When her eyes met his, her gaze was incredulous. "You want to talk about relationships?"

He shrugged. "Do you?"

"No," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice for the first time since the summer holidays started.

Ron could feel his neck heating up, but he didn't want to admit defeat. Besides, he knew his sister. Even on a good day, she could be as prickly as a cactus, but he'd overheard her talking to Hermione about boys enough to know that even she wasn't immune to feelings. "Are you sure? From what Hermione said, girls like talking about their emotions."

Her eyebrows shot up, and she mouthed the word 'wow'. "Do boys have one big hive mind?"

"Er… no."

"Then why are you acting as if girls do?"

"I'm not," he insisted. "I… I'm not good at this, Gin. But I'm trying, okay?"

Sighing, Ginny closed the book and set it aside. "I know. I'm just tired of how everybody's acting around me. Someone will say Harry's name and then realise that I'm there and try to backtrack. I know you all have good intentions, but drawing more attention to it doesn't help."

"What would help?" Ron asked. "I can kick Harry's arse for you if you want."

She grinned. "Do you really think you could?" Then, seeming to realise how it sounded, she added: "I mean, I don't even know if Hermione could."

For once, Ron didn't take offence to it. After all, she had a point; he wasn't sure if anyone their age would be able to beat Harry in a duel. "Maybe," he said, acting petulant just to make her laugh. "He'd probably let me for this."

"True." Laughter fading, she glanced down for a second before meeting his gaze again. "You know, this did help a little. Do you want to go out and see if the garden needs de-gnoming?"

It might not be a world of imagination anymore, but Ron suspected that right then, that was exactly what they both needed. "Sure."

Grabbing the book, she put it back on the bookcase, wedging it in somewhere near the bottom. "The book's rubbish, anyway."

-x-

Ron tapped his quill against the parchment with a sigh. The Auror training program was tough and demanding; while he and Harry had gotten in on the basis of their war records, it was clear that they were going to have to work hard if they were going to make it long-term.

He'd assumed that homework would end when he finished school, but apparently, it just got longer and more difficult. And since Hermione was busy with her own studies, she wasn't there to check their answers anymore.

Still, things were going as well as could be expected. Everyone was still reeling from Fred's death, but they were slowly starting to put their lives back together. He and Harry were even planning on renting their own flat once their probation period was over. Technically, Harry would have been able to afford it now, but Ron had been determined to wait until he could pay his half of the rent.

Abandoning Harry and Hermione in the woods had given him a lot to reflect on and make up for. They were trying to heal the cracks in their friendship, and Ginny had suggested that taking responsibility by making it clear that he didn't intend to mooch off them might help.

It had been a tough conversation, but then there had been many of those over the past year.

A loud crack outside gave him the excuse he needed to stop working. Peering out the window, he could see Ginny's long red hair near the front of the garden. He dropped the quill and hurried downstairs, reaching the door not long before she did.

Before Ginny was fully inside, she was shouting. "I did it! I make the team!"

"You're kidding!" he exclaimed. "Gin, that's brilliant!"

She nodded, beaming. "I'm not on the starting bench, but who cares? I'm in. I'll get to train with my heroes."

"Mum!" Ron shouted up the stairs. "Dad! Ginny's home!"

Ron would have been lying if he said he didn't feel a hint of jealousy at her success. She had the potential to be a top-tier Chaser, while he knew that his own athletic ability started and ended with school sport. But he pushed the feeling aside, determined to be happy for her.

He pulled his wand from his pocket. "Accio Quidditch Through the Ages. Accio quill."

"What are you doing?" she asked incredulously.

"Hold on." When the objects arrived, he snatched them out of the air and presented them to her, opening the book to the first page. "Care to give me a signature? You'll need the practice now that you're on your way to being a big star."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but the effect was tampered by the ear-splitting grin that appeared on her face as she signed the book with a flourish.

-x-

Ron sighed as he returned home to the flat he was sharing with Harry. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, he was beginning to regret the decision to live and work with the man who was not only his best friend but also his sister's boyfriend. It made it hard to keep things secret.

Like how he was failing at his job. Like how, maybe, he wasn't cut out to be an Auror after all. Like how his work issues were spilling over into his relationship with Hermione, making them both tense and short-tempered all the time.

Fortunately, he and Harry were working different shifts that day, so he would have some time to relax without having to worry about his friend's knowing gaze.

"You're home late."

Flinching, he spun, pulling his wand from his pocket in one swift motion. "I'm warning you; I'm an Auror. If you—Ginny?"

His sister was laying on the floor, the toy train he'd loved so much as a kid scattered in pieces on the carpet in front of her. The box of childhood memories he'd been going through over the past few days was sitting by the wall. "I forgot you had this."

"How did you get here?"

"You gave me a key, remember? Come and sit down with me. I can't work out how to put this together."

His eyebrows shot up. The idea of his little sister admitting that there was something she couldn't do was almost unheard of.

He tossed his bag onto the sofa and joined her on the floor. For a moment, he surveyed the pieces. Then, almost of their own accord, his hands began to assemble them. If Ginny had asked him how to put them together, he wouldn't have been able to tell her. But somehow, his muscles remembered what his brain had forgotten. "What's with the sudden desire to build model trains?"

Ginny shrugged. "I came over to talk, but you weren't here, and I got curious."

"Snoop," he said, but there was no bite to the word.

"You're one to talk," she retorted. "How many times did you break the rules to snoop at school?"

"Hey, that was your boyfriend's fault, not mine." He paused as his brain registered the rest of her words. "Wait, what did you come to talk about?"

"You. Your job."

Ron's hands stilled. "There's nothing to discuss. It's work. I'm doing it."

"I know you'd rather not think about it—"

"Whatever gave you that impression?"

"—but you did me a favour once by making me talk when I thought I wanted to be alone, and now I'm returning it." She snapped two pieces of the engine together. "Ron… when's the last time you were happy?"

"I don't know—when I ate poached eggs for breakfast this morning?"

"I mean really happy."

"I don't know," he repeated, more seriously this time.

"Do you remember when we used to play make-believe?" she asked. "We imagined the future we wanted… and then we created it, and then we lived it."

He nodded, not sure where she was going with this.

"That's what we did in real life, too, really." She tilted her head. "We saw the potential for a life without the war, and we imagined what it would look like, and we fought to create it. But you're missing a key part of the process: when are you going to live it?"

"What?"

"I'm living it. I'm playing Quidditch—following my dreams. Even Hermione and Harry are living it. Yes, Hermione's working to overthrow the system, but that's her passion. And being an Auror is Harry's. But it feels like you're an Auror not because you want to be one, but because you feel like you have to be. Because you're still creating the world you want to live in."

"So what if I am?" he asked, focusing on finding the next piece so he didn't have to look her in the eye. "Someone needs to do it."

"It'll destroy you," she said quietly. "It's already starting to."

"What would you suggest I do, then? I'm not exactly rolling in options."

She shrugged. "If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?"

"I don't know," he said for the third time that conversation.

"George is looking for help in the shop." Her voice was casual, but he had the sense that this was where she'd been heading from the start. "Maybe you could help him while you figure it out."

It was tempting. Anything would be better than staying in this stasis for another few years. "Maybe. But first"—he took the bit of the engine she'd put together and set it into place—"let's finish this train. I want to see if the magic still holds."

-x-

Two years later, he was the best man at her wedding, and one year after that, she was the matron of honour at his. Standing at the altar with Harry and Ginny as Hermione walked down the aisle towards him, he knew that there was nobody else he would rather have by his side.

Once upon a time, Ron and Ginny might have been stuck spending time together because they were the youngest. Now, they did so by choice.

And he wouldn't have had it any other way.