Under the shade of a Coolibah tree

I wish I was as brilliant as the talented Ms. Rowling, but I am not, I don't own anything, and I'll never write characters as remarkably amazing as her, so therefore I must use hers.


It had been a month since the last battle, nearly a month since Fred's funeral and Ginny was still mourning alone in her own room. She came downstairs for meals but then retreated to her room immediately afterwards. She barely spoke to her parents or Ron and she never spoke to Harry. He could tell that she was still angry at him, he wasn't sure she would ever forgive him.

Sometimes George would let her stay in his room and she would sleep in Fred's bed. She liked the smell of Fred's bed, his sheets, his pillow.

George and Ginny would stay up late crying, yelling, laughing, drinking firewhiskey, cursing Fred for leaving them and toasting his memories. They would pass out pissed drunk early in the morning and then skip breakfast and lunch.

Their drinking binges were becoming less frequent as George was spending more and more time at his flat trying to get his business back together.

To say that Ginny missed her brother was an understatement. The twins had always treated her differently than her other brothers had, they never babied her or fought with her on purpose, they never treated her like a weak little girl.

They confided their worst scheming plans and always took her opinions seriously, she even had a hand in developing and testing some of the products from their store. So when George started spending less time at home and more time with Angelina, Ginny was doubly heartbroken. She felt alone.

Ron couldn't take it anymore, he missed Fred, he missed George and he missed Ginny. Of course he had Hermione. He'd always had Hermione and Harry was there too but not really. Harry was his usual moody, broody, guilt stricken self. Ron would have to pull it together for the lot of them. He figured he'd start with Ginny because he knew her best and she needed him the most.

"Gin... Gin... are you in there?" he whispered at her door.

"Go away Ron" a muffled voice returned.

"I'm coming in," he answered.

"You'd better not be starkers," he said while opening the door with his hand over his eyes. He was met with a pillow being thrown at his head.

"Look Gin, I need your help with something," he whined.

"Can't you get one of the Golden Trio to help you?" she asked sarcastically.

"No, I definitely need your expertise with this."

"Fine," she answered sitting up on her bed.

"What is it?"

"This," he exclaimed showing her a bottle of single malt whiskey he'd nicked. "Thought we could give it a go, just the two of us," he asked.

"Ron, you've never in your life been pissed, I doubt that you'll be able to handle it."

"I guess we're about to find out aren't we," he said as he popped the cork and took a swig straight from the bottle.

She grabbed the bottle from him raised her eyebrows twice and took a swig large enough to quench Hagrid's thirst.

"Figured I'd come to the right place for this," he said as he tried to mimick her actions and just ended up spilling and gurgling whiskey down his shirt.

"You are a pathetic git, you know that? wasting good whiskey like that," she took another large swig and passed the bottle back. He took that as an invitation that he and his bottle could stay and he sat down across from her on her bed.

Half of a bottle later they were laughing and immitating what they thought their mum would say if she caught them in such a drunken state.

Hand on her hip and hiccoughing uncontrolably Ginny said in her best high pitched voice, "Ronald Weasley,hic, I cannot believe you bullied your, hic, poor innocent sister, hic, into getting pissed with you."

"Innocent?" he roared and rolled off the bed.



"I've missed you"

"I missed you too, Ron"

He crushed her to him in an amazingly tight squeeze and they fell backwards onto her bed and that is how Hermione found them the next morning.

"I see that the both of you were on quite the bender last night," exclaimed Hermione.

"Get out of bed you lazy arse, its almost noon."

"Ermph," replied Ron pulling Ginny's pillow over his face.

"Get up! the both of you"

A/N I have most of this story written so I hope you like it! The title comes from the second line in a popular Australian folk song "Waltzing Matilda"