You Know That I Love You
A Ron and Ginny Weasley Fan Fiction
Ginny propped herself up against her pillow, fretting over the third line in her Potion's essay. As it was hot in her room and had been all summer, she was clad only in minimal clothing. For some strange reason, she noted, the sentence that she held her quill to threateningly refused to agree with her; her quill's sharp tip hovered over a particularly cocky looking "because". Normally, she'd just give up one something like this, or else would have tried again later. But this really had her frustrated. Had it been Human, she'd have hexed it already. The essay wasn't due for a month, of course, but it annoyed her just the same.
Perhaps, though, it wasn't the essay that annoyed her so much as her feelings for a particular boy. Harry had broken up with her at Dumbledore's funeral. He, as he always did, had his brave and grand reason for doing so; that she didn't care if she was in danger didn't do well for persuading him to change his mind - not that she'd really tried that hard, she thought to herself.
Growling at her paper as she gripped harder on her quill in frustration, a habit she'd somehow managed to pick up from Nicole Daniels last school year, she threw her head back; it hit the wall gently. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to calm herself. If she ever wanted to finish the essay, she'd need a clear mind. She smirked and laughed a little to herself. It was two in the morning. She wasn't exactly likely to get a clear mind any time soon.
She entertained a thought of jinxing Michael again and again in her mind. Each time his head managed to hit the wall in the Room of Requirement a different way. She couldn't help but laugh aloud. To anyone watching – or even listening – she probably looked and sounded like she'd completely cracked. Given the time and that her family didn't really care about her love life, however, such an occurrence was quite unlikely.
A gentle knock at her door tore her from her musings. With a sharp intake of breath, she sat up. A concerned-looking Ron stood in the doorway. The dark bags beneath his eyes suggested he, perhaps, wasn't fairing the best either.
"Is everything alright, Ginny?" he whispered, leaning in slightly, then swallowed thickly. "I noticed your light was on and..."
"Is there something you want to talk about, Ron?" she could read him like a book, she thought to herself. She held in a chuckle. If he was coming to her, no matter the time of day, it was almost certainly something about Hermione - a subject that was always sensitive at best.
He nodded subtly, closing the door as quietly as could be managed. Rather than a full orchestral screech, it was a bit like a violin solo, though considerably less pleasant. His shadow cast itself on the wall opposite her lamp, stretched tall and dark like a Vampire wandering lost through the catacombs.
She motioned for him to near. He gradually took to standing at the far end of her bed, staring at her sheets. He didn't look up to her, but spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"Are... is... are you okay?" he asked. She cocked an eyebrow at him, dipping her head downward to chance a look at his face. Ginny had assumed this was going to be about him.
"I'm fine," Ginny said slowly. "Ron?"
He didn't respond except to blink. It suddenly dawned on her what was bothering him, at least at the moment. His Gryffindor bravery came with a smidgen of chivalry, it would seem.
"Ron, just look at me," she said a little bluntly. He glanced upward at her.
She sat up more fully in her bed, setting her things on her bedside table. Resisting the urge to laugh, she patted the spot before her, inviting him to join her. He let out a soft breath, but made his way around the bed regardless, and slumped down on the mattress at his sister's feet.
He stared at her door.
"I was just wondering... if, you know, ... how you're dealing with... Him and ...," he stammered. Ginny frowned. Because he, once again, refused to look at her, he missed it.
"I'm coping," Ginny said firmly. She cringed with the words that escaped her lips – they sounded shaky and uncertain, as though she weren't being truly honest with herself. Ron picked up on this and gained a little confidence.
"You're sure?" Ron asked in a hushed voice. His gaze still did not wander in her direction. Something about that was starting to frustrate her in a way she was finding confusing. She shook her head quickly to clear her head, hoping he didn't notice.
"Yes," Ginny said quickly as she caught a hint of light sparkle from the corner of his eye. He may have seen.
She bit her lip a little nervously. It was sweet that he was here and worried about her emotional affairs with regard to Harry, but whether he was speaking through loyalty to her as a sister or to him through loyalty as a friend, she couldn't quite tell. Something told her that it may have been neither.
"War sucks," Ginny breathed, setting her head back against the wall; it felt cool against her moist skin.
Ron nodded his agreement, staying motionless for a moment before he stood. He took the few steps to the door and reached for the handle. Before turning it, however, he turned to her, forcing himself to look directly into her eyes.
"You know that I love you," Ron said. There was no mistaking the hint of fear in his voice. It was as though the words that he spoke were meant to only be felt and never said. But siblings really do love one another, right? Even when they feel like they want to disembowel one another with the dull end of a shovel. Or a spoon. Spoons work well, too.
"Yeah," Ginny said simply, blinking. Ron only nodded, pausing for a moment before he turned to open the door. "And Ron," she whispered. He turned to look at her. She noticed his gaze wander a little as he blinked. "I love you, too."
Even without the bright light of the noonday sun, Ginny could see his subtle smile. He turned back around again and opened the door, once again the sound of a violin sounded, though this time a little sweeter.
"Goodnight, Ginny," he said as he closed the door.
"Goodnight, Ron," she said to her empty room as she reached for her lamp. "Goodnight, Ron," she repeated once more, turning the lamp off. She let herself fall back against her bed for what had to have been the dozenth time that night. This time, though, it felt cooler, more inviting. Whether it was the sleepiness that had washed over her or something else, she'd never know. As she closed her eyes and her breathing slowed, she drifted off into the only peaceful dream she'd have for an entire year.
Author's Note: The idea behind this story was a brief, subtle look at both Ron and Ginny's fears concerning the fast approaching war they both knew was coming. Though Ron says barely anything with words, he says everything with his actions. I think his visiting of Ginny was his way of making sure that she was okay and that their friendship as siblings was as well. I'd love to hear what you think, please review!