Disclaimer: Okay, if you didn't figure it out, I didn't make this all up on my own. This is a fanfic, so that should have been obvious.
I, Ginerva Weasley, am going to kill somebody. Or myself. I swear it. I graduated just a few weeks ago, the day the war ended. I took part in it, but no one knows how much. What they do know is that I messed up. Majorly. There was a small confession on my part, and that may have cost a few lives. It wasn't by choice, I didn't walk up to Voldermort and say "Hey, guess when we're planning to attack! Can't figure it out, well then, I'll tell you!" It was more of being dragged to him, tortured, and repeating one word over and over so much that he figured it out. But I haven't told anyone the whole truth, or even that much. What they do know is that as the final battle was beginning, when I was safe and hidden at Hogwarts, a Death Eater looked at my brother's, smiled and said "Tell your sister thanks for the warning." and then Death Eaters started pouring in. More than any number ever recorded. It was my fault, they knew it was. They were instantly ashamed of me, just like everyone else. No one wanted to hear my side of the story. I wasn't prosecuted because Dumbledore assured everyone that I was on campus the whole year, that there was no way I told anything to anybody. Still, I am looked down upon. By everyone. When I say everyone, I mean everyone. Even my mother. How I hate my mother now.
"Remember that time we put, hehe, itching powder in Rogers' shampoo? Oh! He was so mad!" Fred and George burst out laughing at the memory after Fred told the story. All the Weasley's, along with Harry and Hermione, were sitting around the kitchen table. Everyone joined in the laughing, but calmed down rather quickly. "Rogers, the guy who..." Ron's voice trailed off. He didn't finish asking the question. Rogers was the guy who died in the last battle. Just like Trammel, Peterson, Graves, and countless others. People I hadn't even met, but was believed to have their blood on my hands. "Anything else we could talk about?" Mum asked, keeping her face pointed at her plate so I wouldn't notice her eyes on me. I saw her eyes, along with everyone else's eyes. I felt absolutely horrible. I wanted to scream the truth, I wanted everyone to know! But more than that I wanted to pretend it never happened. So I stayed quiet. At first that worked, staying quiet. Avoiding eye contact. Making it impossible to catch my eye as the meal went on. I kept my face blank, I didn't want to cry. During dessert I barely moved. There was plenty of small talk going on around me. At the dinner that was celebrating my graduation. Where no one was looking at me. "Ginerva will you please! We knew you're weak before but not even looking at your own family?! Honestly!" My mother yelled that out. The room went completely still and silent. My breathing became labored, my vision blurred with tears. I hated myself, and it became obvious at that moment she hated me too. I slammed my hand on the table as I lifted myself off the chair I turned around to storm off to my room Mum thought of something else to yell at me "If you leave this table you won't be coming back!" She was right. I had no intention of coming back. Ever. I went in my room and packed a bag. A bag! Only one! Some clothes, underwear, toothbrush, wand. Things that would be hard to notice as missing. I scribbled a short note on an old stationary and left it on my pillow. I then put the note on my pillow and climbed out the window. I was afraid to use magic, I was shaking too hard. I just climbed down the house, slowly and carefully as I could. I fell once, but grabbed a board just in time. My knees and hands were very scraped when I was done. Even on solid ground I was shaking, so I just started walking. I didn't have to worry about being found for a while, especially with the note I left. It said:
"I'll be back by morning, just need to clear my head. No need to worry. Love, Gin."
Convincing, no? I walked all night, and at first I thought I'd come back in a few days, but I just kept walking. I end up walking onto the Knight Bus after two days. Two days of walking. My feet bled. They seriously bled. I had blisters that bad. The strange thing about it, I hadn't even noticed the pain. I was pretty good at that, not noticing pain. I rode the Knight Bus until it kicked me off. Seriously. Most people wouldn't be able to stand it that long, but I found it relaxing. Being able to get away so easily, without even having to think about it. It was a bit like riding on an angel, being taken away from my pain without having to worry. An angel that smelt really bad and sass talked, but still an angel. When the angel finally kicked me off, I walked some more. I still didn't feel the blisters. I did however, see that I was not in London. I figured out that I was in a small town about an hour away from Wales driving. I did not have any kind of transportation, so I decided this small town was good enough. I must have looked pretty bad, judging by the stares I got as I walked around. I hadn't showered since I left the Burrow, so it was a great relief when I saw a shelter. I immediatly went in, hoping for at least a shower, if not more, and was relieved even more when the people working there rushed me to a shower, and to some clean clothes. OH. MERLIN. That made me happier than anything else ever could. When they gave me food right after I was about to drop on my knees and worship them. They didn't seem to be shocked at this. They were so nice, it was almost scary. They never even asked my name, and neither did any of the other people staying. We were all grouped into the same category, runaways. I didn't mind this. It makes sense when a runaway wants to kill somebody, but when a Weasley does, it's bad. The solution, I was no longer a Weasley.