Ginny felt like she didn't fit in her own skin anymore. It was more than the tightness of the healing skin, actually it wasn't anything physical at all. She kept replaying the battle with Lestrange over and over in her head, picking out her mistakes and weaknesses. She needed more time with a sword, needed to improve her reactionary time. She'd grown lazy, complacent lately. Something she suspected had to do with how happy she was.
Logically she knew that Neville had nothing to do with it, but in her anger at herself, and the careful way he was handling her in the days after the battle, she grew to resent it. Everything was boiling under the surface, and by the time she was allowed to come home, it wasn't surprising when the simplest of things set her off.
It was Neville's smile that did it. So understanding and nice. Loving. And she couldn't take it any more.
"Stop treating me as if I was going to break!" she shouted, arms crossed. "I don't need you to take care of me, Neville. I was doing quite fine until you came along, and messed everything up." She was trembling--with rage, with fear, she didn't know. "This isn't working. I can't do it anymore."
She crossed to the closet and started throwing things behind her into a quickly conjured suit case. She was crying now, shaking still, but didn't stop her furious attempt at packing.