Hey! This is a plot bunny that's been bugging me, it'll probably be about 6 chaps. maybe more. Enjoy and review!

Disclaimer: My lawyer's working on it, but, unfortunatly, I don't own HP yet.

Ginny Weasley had never felt more frustrated in her entire life, and she had grown up with six brothers. Never had she felt so annoyed, so insulted.

They left her behind. They said she wasn't old enough; it was too dangerous, so much so that they didn't want to risk bringing another person. It hurt, the excuses they made. It all meant the same thing; "You're too little, Ginny." Or, "It's too dangerous, wait till you're older and we'll think about it." The same things she had been hearing all her life.

Hadn't she proven herself? Hadn't she dealt with the evils of Voldemort before? Didn't she fight the Death Eaters at the ministry just last year? Surely that meant she was just as qualified to go with them as they were!

Harry told her it wasn't because he didn't think she was worthy.

"I know you, Ginny," he had said at the Burrow during Bill and Fleur's wedding, just before the three of them had left, "I know how powerful and smart you are. I know how stubborn you are, and how much you want to fight. I know that you feel that you deserve to go with us, and you do. But Ginny, I can't let you. This…this is one of those situations where we don't know the outcome. There is every chance that one of us won't come out alive, and…with you…I can't risk that. I care about you too much."

Ginny had always been proud of the fact that during these sort of situations, she was always able to keep calm. She was able to detach herself; to act cool and collected even when she was anything but. She had done it recently, when they broke up. So, needless to say, it came as a shock to both of them that when she responded, her voice shook and cracked.

"So…so Ron and Hermione don't matter, do they?" she had managed to choke, furious with herself for not being able to keep her voice steady.

She had watched as his face grew darker, obviously annoyed at her for even suggesting such a thing, but when he responded it was in the same soft and calm voice he had been using.

"Ron and Hermione matter more than almost anything. Ginny, listen, this has as much to do with them as it does me! They've been in this from the beginning. From the moment I stepped into to Hogwarts, they've been fighting him with me. Trust me, if I had my way, I'd be doing this on my own, but they…it's their decision to make."

"Why can't I make my own decisions?"

"Because you're not of age."

It had felt like a blow to the stomach. So she was old enough to go out with him, but she couldn't fight with him? She was old enough to love him, but not defend him? To her, the things went hand in hand.

"That has to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, Harry. I'm the same age you were just last month! You've been fighting Voldemort all your life, and you've never cared about whether or not you were 'of age'." At that point he had turned away from her and buried his face in his hands. For a moment they stood there in silence, and then he turned around and looked at her in the eye.

"Ginny, you are not going. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to let you." She had opened her mouth furiously, ready to reply, but he had simply walked away.

When she had walked into the kitchen an hour later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were no where to be found.

Now she sat in her usual place in front of the Gryffindor common room fire, the sounds of pointless gossip coming from all around her. She sat alone. It wasn't that she didn't have friends her own age, but they simply didn't measure up to the three seventh year students that should be sitting in the very place she was. It didn't seem right to laugh and have fun when she knew that her three best friends were off searching for the dangerous dark magic they would use to destroy the most evil wizard of all time.

She looked around the crowded common room, amazed at how it was almost the same as it always was, yet different in an unavoidable way. There was no Hermione, surrounded by a stack of huge texts, her quill scratching furiously on whatever essay of the day. There was no Ron, playing exploding snap and losing, occasionally stealing a glance at Hermione when he thought no one was looking. And most of all, there was no Harry. She had loved the way he sat in his favorite chair by the fire, thumbing through Quidditch through the Ages for the thousandth time, complaining about the amount of work Snape had set them, or else quietly discussing whatever mystery he was currently a part of. Without the three of them, Hogwarts wasn't Hogwarts.

The first couple of weeks, it had just felt odd. Now it fully registered how wrong it felt. She hated the fact that they were off risking their lives, why she just sat here in school, worrying about her next exam. She hated feeling like she was doing absolutely nothing to help. For the first time, she understood what Sirius must have felt like, and she wished she would have been more sympathetic. She wanted so badly to do something, anything, anything that would make her feel like she had a purpose.

"Ginny!" She started and looked around. Demelza was standing next to her, a scroll furled in her hands and annoyed expression her face.

"I've been saying your name for about two minutes now," she said crossly.

"I'm sorry, Demelza…I was…distracted."

"Well, I can't say I'm not surprised. Listen, you have a note from Professor McGonagall." She handed Ginny the scroll.

"See you, Ginny, and look…if you need to talk…I'm here." Ginny smiled and watched her friend walk away. It was nice for her to say that, but she doubted anyone would really understand what she was feeling just now. Curious, Ginny unrolled the message.

Dear Miss Weasley,

I hope you are feeling well, despite certain circumstances. I was hoping that you could meet me in my office after supper this evening; there are a few things I would like to discuss with you.

Don't forget about your Transfiguration essay,

Professor McGonagall

Ginny looked at her watch and realized it was time for dinner. She headed towards the portrait hole wondering what Professor McGonagall could possibly want.

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