Ginny Weasley slid back the shower curtain and grabbed the pale blue bathrobe off the rod. It was old and frayed at the edges, but it was worn soft and it was her favorite. She wrapped it around herself and headed to her dorm. The room was empty; the other girls had already gone down to breakfast.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Ginny looked around wistfully. This wasn't what she had expected her sixth year to be like. She had expected to be laughing with her friends in the halls, glad they had done well on their O.W.L.s. Instead, they served horrible detentions almost every free minute they had. She had expected studying hard for her exams, groaning good-naturedly about the homework load. Instead, they were learning lies about Muggles, lies about Dumbledore, even lies about Harry Potter. Ginny sighed as she towel dried her hair gently. Harry, how she missed him. If her sixth year at school had been normal, Harry would have been there. She would have known exactly where he was. Instead, he was out there somewhere with Ron and Hermione. She shivered at the thought that they might be in danger that very moment. Then she shook her head, they were all in danger at that very moment. No one was safe anymore.
Ginny knew that if it weren't for the renewed efforts of the members of Dumbledore's Army she would have given up by now. She didn't have the desire to be strong on her own. She was supposed to be strong, but her hands shook as she took notes in class. She was supposed to be brave, but her eyes darted around nervously, watching for approaching danger at all times. And she was supposed to be a leader, but her knees knocked together under her robes every time she was any where near one of the Carrows. She had to constantly take deep breaths to steady herself, and still, she wobbled and shook all the time. Her dreams were fitful; full of visions of the evil around them.
She dressed quickly, starting to get cold in the empty dorm room. Wrapping an elastic around her damp hair, she headed back into the bathroom. The room was still a little steamy and the mirror was covered in condensation. Ginny swiped at it with her forearm, clearing a patch just big enough to see her face in. She was startled by the person she saw looking back at her. The person in the mirror looked tired and weak. She looked scared. Ginny looked away. When she looked back, her reflection still looked defeated. The water on the mirror had beaded up and a droplet traced a path down her reflection's cheek. Angrily, she wiped it away. It wasn't fair that her reflection could cry when she shouldn't. She had to be tough and strong. She had to put on a brave face for everyone. She had to pretend to be alright. But she wasn't. Angrily, she slammed her fists on the counter, knocking over her little quilted bag that held her make-up. Bottles and brushes scattered across the counter. A little tube of lip gloss rolled into the sink. It was a light pink sherbet color. Ginny reached for the gloss and clutched it tightly. The last time she had worn that color she had been with Harry; she had been happy. Now, she would have to cover up her fear, sadness and concern. With a shaking hand she unscrewed the top of the little bottle she clutched line a life-line and traced it over her lips. That would have to do. That would have to cover up what she really felt.
This was written for a challenge I'm hosting over a the HPFC called the Crayola Colors Challenge. My color was Pink Sherbet.