Chosen

I'm fifteen years old and I'm running away from home. Cliched, isn't it? If I was going to do the whole teenage angst rebellion thing I could at least do something interesting. Problem is, when you're the youngest of seven, there isn't much interesting left to do.

Which is why I've been waiting for a moment when I'm pretty much alone in the house so I can chuck on my Muggle clothing, grab my backpack from under my bed and Floo to Diagon Alley. There isn't much in the bag - my wand, an old black book that arrived at my window by owl a few years ago with a note reading "something to remember me by", some money I've been saving up. In Diagon Alley I head to Gringotts, change the money into pounds. It doesn't come out as much, but it will still help. I'll just try not to spend it unless I have to, I suppose.

Then, head down slightly so I won't be recognised (the bane of red hair, though mine is closer to Percy's colour, not as bright as Ron's), I hurry to the Leaky Cauldron and out into Muggle London.

And suddenly, I'm not the youngest Weasley brat. I'm just Ginny.

***

I walk around for hours, window shopping, trying on clothes, but never buying anything. In the mirrors of countless stores I see myself, pale-faced, red-haired, in endless outfits - tight pants, short skirts, skimpy tops, boots that come up to my knees, strappy sandals. I like them.

But I always return to my dark blue denims, hooded jumper, trainers. Plain old Ginny.

At a thrift store, I try on a halter top. It's nice, a sort of shimmering blue that looks good with my hair. Hesitating, I quickly pull my jumper on over the top and leave the store.

***

Later I get tired and sit down outside a cafe. It's warm, and I take my jumper off, tying it around my waist. A guy who obviously works there, wearing a black apron with the cafe's logo in the corner, comes over to me. "Can I get you anything?" he asks with a smile.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I don't have any money. My wallet got stolen."

Sometimes I surprise myself with how well I lie.

But he looks sympathetic, and tells me to wait, and a few minutes later he comes out with an ice cream cone. It's dipped in chocolate and it has pebbles in it, making a smiley face.

***

In the park I walk past a boy, probably a few years older than me, 18 or so. His eyes follow me. "Wanna shag?" he says, and I stop.

"What?"

"Want to shag?"

I did hear him right. I look at him. He looks back.

"How old are you?" he asks.

"Seventeen," I lie.

***

It doesn't hurt as much as I've been led to believe. And there isn't any blood.

***

He drops me at Dean's house. I introduce myself to a brother and get led to his bedroom. He's surprised to see me. "I ran away," I tell him, almost in tears. "I can't stand this, Dean, I'm so scared, I don't know what's going to happen. I just-- feel so awful!"

***

"Did someone hurt you?"

I nod, then wonder why I did it. I whisper, "He made me. He said it'd be better if I didn't fight."

***

I stay for dinner. It turns out they've heard about me, the brother and both sisters and his parents. They're friendly, joking, like my family. I keep quiet.

Dean manages to find some Floo powder (he hasn't used it in a couple of years, he tells me) and escorts me back to the Burrow. The first thing I hear is Ron yelling, "GINNY!", and then there's a pause and he adds, "What the hell did you do to my sister, Thomas?"

I realise there are still tears on my face. "He took care of me. Leave him alone."

"I'll explain," he says, looking at them all with a slightly panicked expression on his face. Most of the family is there - Charlie and Percy are missing, but Harry's there too. I'd forgotten he was coming. "Ginny's tired, I'm going to get her to bed first."

He's stubborn, I'll give him that. There's such a set tone in his voice that no one argues, and I lean into him as he leads me up the stairs, pausing only for directions. I suddenly realise, when I open the door, that Harry's followed us up. He waits in the doorway as I kick off my shoes and let Dean pull the covers up to my shoulders. He kisses me on the forehead and whispers, "I love you."

"Yeah, you too."

I watch him walk past Harry, and then they both go back downstairs. I close my eyes. Lying was never meant to be so easy.