Who: Ginny & Charlie What: They're both miserable? Where: Their safehouse in France. When: Sunday afternoon. Warnings: Ginny being a brat. Status: In progress.
Ginny hated it here. She hated stupid France and she hated this stupid 'safe' house and she hated not being able to fly, and she hated Fleur nagging her all the time and she hated the way her Mum kept acting like it was all some sort of vacation and she hated how her brothers kept trying to 'cheer her up'. Hate. Hate. Hate. Oh yeah, she was being a brat. And she knew it. But she didn't really care because she hated it here and she wanted to be sure everyone knew. This usually involved sniping at Fleur or getting into an argument with her Mum and then storming off.
This time, as the door slammed shut behind her with a bang, it had been her Mum, going on and on about teaching her to cook again. She was awful at it, okay? And it was never going to change! After yelling something about "BEING IN FRANCE ISN'T GOING TO SUDDENLY MAKE ME A BETTER COOK, MUM, GOSH!" she'd stormed off as always, leaving a stunned Molly behind her. Storming through the yard and past some of the outbuildings, she finally sat down on the grass with a huff. There was a pile of rocks nearby and she gathered them close and began hurling them at the trunk of a nearby tree, where they made a satisfying thunk on each hit.
I want to go home. Thunk. I hate it here! Thunk. I want to FLY. Thunk. I miss Harry. Thunk. I HATE IT HERE! A low cry of frustration as she hurled the rock and then THUNK again.