Disclaimer: I don't own anything HP.
When Ginny was three, she liked to take off her clothes and run across the yard to the pond, a slightly bony blur of red and cream. Her arms pumped, stretching skin taut across her shoulder blades, like little wings. She seemed closer to taking flight with each step, running unerringly for the top of the hill behind the Burrow. Bill and Charlie were in school already, and so Mum would send Percy out to fetch her before she ran too far from the yard, tripped and fell and lost her wings. Percy didn't mind; Ron and the twins were too young to watch out for her, and he liked to be needed.
When Ginny was five, Percy watched her streak across the lawn, balancing precariously on Dad's old broomstick, and caught up to her just as she toppled from the clattery thing. He bandaged her elbows and patted her back, telling her she ought to be more careful and ask Mum and Dad first. That night, the lock went onto the broomshed door.
When Ginny was six, Percy went to Hogwarts. Two weeks after he left, she figured out how to open the lock.
When Ginny was eleven, she almost died. The sleeping figure in the hospital wing, freckled face washed out against white sheets, was too subdued to be Percy's little sister. He hadn't neglected her, had he, for his prefect duties? Maybe, he worried, he should have watched her more closely.
When Percy was eighteen, he left school and childish things behind, and threw himself into his job.
When Ginny was fourteen, she finally flew, but Percy wasn't there.
When Ginny was three, she liked to take off her clothes and run across the yard to the pond, a slightly bony blur of red and cream. Her arms pumped, stretching skin taut across her shoulder blades, like little wings. She seemed closer to taking flight with each step, running unerringly for the top of the hill behind the Burrow. Bill and Charlie were in school already, and so Mum would send Percy out to fetch her before she ran too far from the yard, tripped and fell and lost her wings. Percy didn't mind; Ron and the twins were too young to watch out for her, and he liked to be needed.
When Ginny was five, Percy watched her streak across the lawn, balancing precariously on Dad's old broomstick, and caught up to her just as she toppled from the clattery thing. He bandaged her elbows and patted her back, telling her she ought to be more careful and ask Mum and Dad first. That night, the lock went onto the broomshed door.
When Ginny was six, Percy went to Hogwarts. Two weeks after he left, she figured out how to open the lock.
When Ginny was eleven, she almost died. The sleeping figure in the hospital wing, freckled face washed out against white sheets, was too subdued to be Percy's little sister. He hadn't neglected her, had he, for his prefect duties? Maybe, he worried, he should have watched her more closely.
When Percy was eighteen, he left school and childish things behind, and threw himself into his job.
When Ginny was fourteen, she finally flew, but Percy wasn't there.