AN: This is just a little something I came up with while I was a bit bored. It might be a oneshot, I might continue it and make it a sort of disjointed series of moments from Ginny's life that we didn't previously know about. Enjoy! -StrangerousThings
Ginny Weasley hated her brothers.
Deep down she didn't really hate them, she knew that. But at the moment she hated Percy and Fred and George and most of all Ron, because they were at Hogwarts and she was not.
They were at Hogwarts and she was at home, helping her mother earn enough to replace the money that had gone into the boys' schoolbooks and robes and Ron's wand and all the other million things that the Weasley family could never possibly afford.
And at the moment that help meant making all the meals, while she watched her mother cooking for other families for up to 12 hours a day and her father come home later than 11 most nights.
Not to mention the fights. Ginny's parents were usually good-tempered, particularly when they had guests, but Ginny knew that their circumstances were getting to them, Arthur and Molly both.
When they fought, Ginny would run away.
She would come back within the hour, of course. It was always night time when they fought, so it was dark. The wheat fields, golden by day, were sinister at night. She would hide there though, and hold her precious things; a pearl-handled hairbrush her mother had given her when she was six and a silver hand mirror.
Ginny supposed she couldn't really complain. At least this was the last year. Even though she knew her parents would be stretched even further without her there to help around the house, she felt a savage sort of pleasure at the idea of finally escaping the Burrow.
It had been 2 months since Ron and the boys had left for school, and Ginny was used to the early starts by now. She tiptoed downstairs; her mother and father were asleep, and waking them at 5 in the morning would have meant only 6 hours of sleep. Her parent almost always fought in the evening if they were tired.
Ginny yawned widely as she started cooking the food that her mother would Floo to other wizarding families; typically filthy rich purebloods who couldn't be bothered to cook and didn't have a house elf. She cooked some oats for her own family and walked outside to gaze at the sunrise. No matter how many times she had seen it, the sunrise over the hills never failed to amaze Ginny. Every part of her 10-year old body yearned for the sky, and she was considering just dropping her breakfast and running for the shed—but then common sense kicked in. Plenty of time for that later.
After about an hour of cooking, Ginny ran up the rickety stairs and knocked on her parent's bedroom door. This was enough to wake them; she could hear her mother and father stirring inside.
Ginny walked back down the stairs and laid the breakfasts out for her mother. It wasn't long before Molly appeared in the kitchen. She walked over and kissed Ginny on the head. "Thank you, sweetheart. Go on, you're done for the morning." Ginny kissed her mother on the cheek and sprinted barefoot out of the house. "Wear shoes!" Molly called, watching her go. Her smile was just a little sad but she chuckled quietly as she sat at the stained wooden table.
Ginny ran across the grass, her pale feet cold and muddy. Bursting through the door of the broom shed she brushed off the cobwebs and grabbed the Weasleys' better spare broom. Walking back out onto the grass and shutting the door, Ginny caressed the smooth wood as she always did. Mounting the broom, a thrill of excitement shot through her, as it always did. And as she always did, Ginny flew.
She flew without abandon, diving and looping and skimming over the grass and soaring high into the air and letting herself fall and catching herself just before she hit the ground. Ginny skimmed over the grass, her toes wet with the cold morning dew.
She practiced with two quaffles at a time, throwing them both in the air and trying to catch them both. She swung bats at fake bludgers, trying to hit them as far as possible and aiming for targets. She chased tiny sparrows and tried to grasp them for just a second, following the dips and swirls of the birds. She flew like she would never fly again.
And for just a few hours a day, Ginny Weasley was free.