Brothers

You'd think I was the biggest expert on boys or more specifically brothers seeing as I have six. But if someone were to ask me what a brother is, I wouldn't know what to tell them because I myself do not know what a brother is. Now, before Ron starts huffing about the absurdity of my statement and Fred and George look at me incredulously, scandalized. Before Percy starts tittering about rudeness and respect, before Bill looks at me confusedly, and even before Charlie gets a tiny smile on his face like he knows what others don't and can tell I'm leading up to something, I'd like to make a point.

I used to ask my mother about my uncles and she would smile or roll her eyes or sigh exhaustedly or even call them 'those hooligans'. When I asked my dad about his brothers he would tell me tales of their childhood adventures, trials and tribulations, quarrels and spats, embraces and smiles. When people ask me about my brothers I don't know what to say. Many people think this is because I have so many, but I think it is because I ponder what makes them my brothers. Is it blood that makes someone your brother? Or another connection altogether?

Even when I was first born I never saw much of Bill and Charlie; they were at Hogwarts most of the year and when they came home it was never long enough. I always knew they were my brothers and loved them unconditionally, but they were mostly like a toy that never loses its appeal because it's not always there.

Percy was always more subdued than the rest, preferring a secluded corner in which he could read a book or plan his glorious life. Unfortunately or maybe fortunately for him, in a house with rambunctious boys, mini explosions and constant yelling, someone quiet is easily overlooked. I loved him though we weren't always close but there were always those little quiet moments where he would play with me or cuddle me to sleep while telling me stories, making my memories of those moments even more precious.

Fred and George. Besides their names there are no words to even begin to explain who they are. Always the life of the party, those two are. Pranksters to the core and brilliant beyond all means measured in this school. They have a natural charisma, an energy that draws people to them like a magnet. They have the ability to make me laugh and I know that even when they are teasing me they wouldn't let a thing hurt me. Yes they tormented me when I was little, they still do now. Continuing to do so doesn't mean I won't remember times when they would take my bear and turn its head into a snake's, dye my hair blue or even hang me upside down from the cherry tree. And although they will never forgive me if I tell you this, I'm going to anyway: they could be kind and considerate in ways that most would never think them able. They would have tea parties with me or hold my hand to cross the street, kiss my booboo's when I got hurt or just any old thing. I adored them.

I looked up to and admired every brother I had, but Ron was different. He was my best friend, my confidant, my last defense from the sometimes vicious Fred and George. He'd put himself in the line of fire even if it meant he would cough feathers for the next three hours just so I wouldn't have to. I admired him so much, but his inferiority complex would never let him see it. He felt overshadowed and never saw the wonderful things that made him unique. He never saw that I thought he walked on water. He never knew how much I missed him when he first left for Hogwarts. He never knew how I felt when he came home that first summer and never paid me any attention. He never knew why I looked up to him and why his friends cared for him so much. The simplest way to explain him is just to say he's Ron. Actually it's the only way to describe him.

I don't think a brother has anything to do with blood. Some people are brothers by birth who were separated and never felt the loss. Ron and Harry, even if they won't admit it, are brothers through the soul even if not in blood. It'd be more accurate to say your brother is someone you have a connection with. Even though Bill and Charlie weren't around, I had a connection with both of them. My fondest memories of Bill were when he'd come off the train, drop his bags, bend down to my level, scoop me up in his arms and fly me around saying how super a girl I was. Charlie, on the other hand, always knew, always understood my thought process. He knew when I needed someone to talk to or when I needed the world, and everyone in it, to just go away. I remember seeing him fly, and I remember him teaching me to fly. I remember Charlie with the biggest smile on his face, and that memory is what can make my horrible days become good ones.

Don't think I didn't resent my brothers, at one point in time or another. Lord knows I did and sometimes still do. Being the youngest and only girl is hard. When any boy you're interested in or is interested in you knows that there is a threat of six older brothers who can, and most likely will, inflict permanent damage if they were to break my heart is a hard thing to cope with. It was frustrating, more than words can explain, and I remember quite a few times where Ron would be massaging his cheek where I had slapped him or Fred and George aghast at the language I used about them. I resented Bill for not seeing me as anything more than a three-year-old, in pigtails, rushing into his arms. I resented Charlie for knowing exactly what I was feeling and being able to sympathize. I resented Percy for his intelligence, his ambition, for his knowing exactly what he wanted to do and doing it. I resented the twins for having the ability to tell a joke, to have people be their friends instantly, for their ability to shrug any insult and not let it bother them. I resented Ron because he grew up with me not being the center of his universe.

When I am old, and they are gone, I'll remember each of them in different ways, hate them and love them for different reasons. My memories of them are unique and each of them is so different and yet so alike. Even if I don't know why they are my brothers, I am lucky to have them. And though I may sometimes wish they would just shrivel up and die, in truth, I wouldn't give them up for the world. They are my brothers; there is no denying that. The answer to why they are might be shaky but I know, even if no one else does, that they are my brothers.

If someone were to ask me what the definition of 'brother' was I still wouldn't have an explanation. Being a brother has nothing to do with blood but the connection between two people, their relationship, their past, their knowledge and mutual love for each other. I don't know what I would answer if someone asked me to describe my brothers. I certainly could not summon them up in just a word, a general statement. I know how I'd think of them though. The term 'brothers' is too broad and there is no real explanation or definition. Mine is only thoughts and pictures.

Bill: all hugs with coolness radiating off him. A love for the wild side and home all mixed into one.

Charlie: the keeper of my soul. He who knows me so well. Him smiling, enjoying the world.

Percy: ambitious and strong willed. A softy who is unsure yet so sure. Confused yet confident.

The Twins: serious pranksters with a love for fun. So brilliant, so underestimated, so eager. So content.

Ron: my childhood guardian. My beacon of hope. Able to surprise himself and everyone else.

That's it I guess. Funny that the people who have formed my world's foundation, the people who built my ideals and beliefs are so hard to describe in words alone. They are but emotions. They are my brothers.

A/N Thanks is undoubtedly due to Amy for betaing this… She deserves a royal thank you for I am probably the WORST person to beta for. That said I hope you enjoyed this and please REVIEW!