Molly Weasley frowned in response, blowing a wispy strand of fire from her eyes and glancing reproachfully at her daughter. "Virginia," she began in exasperation, retying the apron knotted at her waist while she spoke. "Your father and I have discussed this; we just don't think you're old enough to stay home the weekend by yourself--"
"I'm fourteen, Mum!" Ginny shrieked, grabbing Molly by the arm and begging silently with her expression. "You don't think I'm too old; you won't let me because I'm a girl! Ron was allowed to stay home alone overnight when he was thirteen--"
"Not for a whole weekend, now, just overni--"
"--and Dad already said I could stay if you said it was all right! Please, mother!" she cries. "You'll only be gone two nights! Come on, Mum," she wheedles, "Charlie'll understand. He knows that I don't like Romania..."
"Well..." Molly cupped her hand over the tip of the mop handle and rested her chin on top, thinking with a doubtful expression on her face.
"And Mum, you KNOW Percy'll only be a handful of Floo powder away! Penelope likes me, too, she wouldn't care if I popped in 'cause I was scared or something. But I won't be," she adds quickly. "And Arabella--"
"That's Mrs. Figg, dear."
"--Mrs. Figg wanted me over for a cup of tea this weekend! Oh, please don't make me go with you!" she begged, almost near tears.
Molly sighed. "Oh, but Ginny, you know Charlie wanted to see you--"
"He'll understand! I'll owl him before you go on Friday."
"And I thought you didn't like cabbage--?"
Slight pause. "I'm developing a taste for it," Ginny replied hesitantly.
"All right, all right! You can stay!" Molly threw up her hands in despair, then fought to keep her balance as her only daughter gave a loud squeal and nearly tackled her with a huge hug. She laughed helplessly.
"Thank you, Mumsy, thank you thank you thank you! You won't be sorry you let me!" Ginny cried, squeezing her mother tightly.
"Good! Stir the soup, would you?" Molly attacked the floor again with vigor, scrubbing it hard with the end of the mop as Ginny dubiously crossed to where the pot was almost boiling over and picked up the wooden spoon, stirring as commanded. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Oh, ick, Mum, what're you making?"
"Cabbage stew," her mother replied noncommittally, fighting
not to grin as Ginny let out a distressed wail.
