you where Harry's little sister. Ron didn't know you very well, but would help you in a heartbeat, knowing how much you meant to harry, being his only real famil left. It was about one am at the burrow, and you were curled up in a whiney ball on the couch, squashed in pillows and blankets, courtesy of Ron. You were sick. The worst sick you've ever been. "Is that enough bedding, sweetheart?" he asks, babying you, as he buries you in even more pillows and blankets