Disclaimer: None of the characters or places or events are my property. I'm only borrowing them from the brilliant J.K. Rowling.
"GINEVRA MARIE WEASLEY!"
Ginny groaned aloud and rolled herself out of bed. Her mother, Molly, was standing in the doorway of her bedroom, her brown eyes snapping fiercely. "Mum," Ginny said sleepily. "I'm tired."
"I don't care how tired you are. Your brother's guests are coming this afternoon and I want this house spic and span before one o' clock. You still haven't mopped the kitchen or done the laundry."
Ginny put her hand on her forehead and sighed heavily. "Yes, yes, fine, whatever."
Looking reasonably satisfied, Molly shifted the dish towel she was holding to her left hand and patted her daughter's cheek. "There's a dear. And don't forget to make up a salad for dinner." With that, Molly swept from the room.
Ginny stumbled over to her bureau and changed into a pair of severely patched blue jeans and a faded pink tank top. She peered indifferently at her reflection in the square mirror that was propped on her bureau. A tangle of long, dark red curls framed her freckle-dusted, heart-shaped face. She had wide cheekbones, a stubborn chin, and a full, expressive mouth. She hurriedly dragged a brush through her hair and pulled it up into a messy ponytail. Ginny walked out into the narrow hallway and headed in the direction of the bathroom. She twisted the doorknob but it didn't budge. Scowling to herself, Ginny knocked on the door.
"Somebody's in here," a slightly irritated voice said.
"Somebody else needs to brush her teeth," Ginny retorted.
"I'm busy."
"Ron, I only need a second!"
"I'm in the middle of a very delicate process at the moment." Her older brother sounded as though he was gritting his teeth. "Go away."
"Open the door!" Ginny reiterated.
"Sod off," was Ron's reply.
Ginny made a noise of frustration and stalked off, muttering about 'idiot brothers.' She paused in the middle of the hallway, her eyes attracted to a crooked picture hanging on the wall. In it, her parents and six older brothers were grouped in front of a blue background, Molly clutching a wailing Ginny in her arms. Molly wore a very strained smile as her infant daughter attempted to yank out her hair in large tufts. A two-year-old Ron was fidgeting as if someone had put itching powder in his trousers. This thought drew Ginny's attention to the five-year-old twins, who wore wide grins and sported several missing teeth. Percy looked as fussy as usual, but he'd looked fussy even in his baby pictures. Bill's hair was neatly trimmed and there were no dragon fangs in sight, but there was something sarcastic and distinctly Bill-ish in his eyes. Charlie, like Ron, seemed to be having trouble staying in one place and Ginny guessed that the twins had visited his pants drawer, too.
Ginny felt oddly choky and averted her eyes from the photograph. In the kitchen, she found a bucket and mop waiting to be used. Mentally cursing her mother, Ginny walked into the laundry room and retrieved a box of soap flakes. Despite the innumerable times that Ginny had pointed out that Molly could complete every household chore with a flick of her wand, Ginny was still forced to do them. Molly and Arthur seemed to believe that 'domestic chores' helped build character, or some other such rubbish. Ginny dumped the soap flakes in the bucket of cold water and stirred the concoction a bit with the mop. When she had worked up a sufficient amount of suds, Ginny began the process of mopping the badly scuffed hardwood floor. As she performed this tedious task, her thoughts drifted to the impending visit of her brother's two best friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Over the past couple of years, Ginny and Hermione had built up a strong friendship. Hermione found in Ginny an outlet into which she could pour out all her girl-related problems, and Ginny found in Hermione the best listener she had ever met. Ginny was looking forward to her friend's visit with pleasant anticipation. As to the arrival of Harry Potter, Ginny positively dreaded the event.
Not that she didn't like Harry. On the contrary - she did like him, perhaps a little too much. Ginny didn't like to admit it, but her crush for Harry was slowly beginning to resurface, due in part to the correspondence they had been sharing over the summer. Harry had written her a few letters - four to be exact. They were brief, almost entirely impersonal missives but peppered with phrases that reminded Ginny of what a genuine person Harry was. She had almost forgotten how much she loved his dry wit, his unbelievably lofty ideals about chivalry, and his essential Harry-ness. All these things had endeared him to her as a child, and his letters had reawakened many of the feelings she had thought she had put behind her forever.
The reason Ginny resented all of this was simple: she knew Harry would never return her feelings. The thought stung dreadfully and made Ginny resolve to never show Harry how she felt. She couldn't bear the thought of making a fool of herself again - of doting on him with her eyes, of blushing when he glanced her way. Ginny's normally soft face hardened as she told herself sternly that Harry would never look at her as anything but Ron's Baby Sister.
Ginny finished her first chore and surveyed her work with satisfaction. The floor sparkled in the bright sun streaming in through the kitchen window. She proceeded into the laundry room to perform her next chore. It was a small, stuffy room, crammed with heaps of the Weasley family's filthy clothing. Picking her way past Ron's boxers and her mother's knickers, Ginny found the large metal tub and washboard Molly made her use to complete this detestable chore. It was ridiculous, Ginny privately thought, that even Muggles could perform this task without all this extra work. She grabbed a box of laundry detergent off a high shelf and poured half the box into the tub. She then carried in buckets of water from the pump outside and filled it.
As she dragged Ron's favorite Chudley Cannon's t-shirt up and down the washboard, Ginny reflected on the events of the past summer. Voldemort had been growing steadily more powerful, and the Ministry of Magic's feeble efforts had had little or no effect. Very stupid pamphlets had been issued sometime at the start of June, detailing the "duck and cover" method of protecting oneself against the most dangerous wizard the world had ever known. The Shield Charm had also been described, and underage witches and wizards had been given permission to use the charm should Voldemort show up at their home. Ginny hadn't found that bit at all reassuring. Ginny would have been kept completely kept out of the loop by Molly had it not been for Harry, whose letters kept her armed with what little information he had to share.
Before Ginny knew it, the laundry was washed. With a heavy sigh, she carried the loads of wet clothes outside and started hanging them on the line. It was a warm, sunny day with a light breeze that picked up the hairs that had escaped from her ponytail. Smiling to herself, Ginny clothes-pinned her bra to the clothes-line. At that exact moment a familiar voice said, "Ginny!" and she found herself being picked up and hugged by a pair of strong, comforting arms.