Ginny Weasley's chocolate brown eyes flashed open, no longer holding the excitement that they had only a year prior. She sat upright in her small bed, examining her pitiful excuse of a house. It reminded her strangely of Hagrid's Hut (something that tugged her heart painfully), but she pushed aside such thoughts and climbed out of bed. Her legs were bruised black and blue, marked with barely-noticeable scars buried deep in her flesh. The bruises on her arms were yellowing, but still noticeable. She sighed, walking across the room to the small pile of clothes she had. She pulled on a simple yellow and red striped shirt, a navy cardigan, faded skinny jeans and navy converse, before looking at the cracked mirror. Gently touching the bags under her eyes, she bit her lip, holding back tears. C'mon, Ginny. You've been here for a year, already. Grow up, for God's sake! The part of her brain that saw sense scolded her, forcing her to blink back tears and glare at the mirror. She tugged a brush through her messy red mane, turning towards the bathroom and brushing her teeth. She stepped through her front door without breakfast (as usual) and turned to eye her house. It wasn't much, considering she'd used magic when she'd created it and she'd been incredibly weak, but it was enough. She sighed, looking up at the rising sun and scowling. She'd have to hike to school, which took about an hour and was one of the many reasons she was thin as a twig.
While she walked, she thought. She thought of Harry; of the kisses they shared. She thought of Hermione; all the times they gossiped and laughed. And, obviously, she thought of her family. Immersed in her thoughts, she didn't notice the boy running in front of her until it was too late. She fell to the floor, wincing. But the boy didn't stop. Ginny put a hand to her head, feeling dizzy, before pulling herself to her feet. It had been a full moon previously, so her body already stung, but the impact made her head swim. She sighed, continuing her hike.
An hour later, she arrived at the school. She simply sat down on a bench, sighing and burying her head in her hands. For once, there was no rain (a fact she was grateful for) but she barely paid any attention. Soon, the morning bell rang and she sighed, standing up and walking through the school doors. Heads turned in the hallway as she walked past and she did her best to role her eyes. As much as she used to hope it was, she knew they did not look for the beauty that had once existed. They looked because of the bags under her eyes, the scars, the bruises. She knew a lot of people did not recognise her, because she was little Ginny Weasley. She was the quiet girl, the girl no one knew. And she would like it to stay that way.
She walked into the English classroom, sighing and shooting daggers at Ms. Cooke, who was lecturing her about being late. When the teacher had finished, Ginny walked to the back of the room and sat down, glaring at anyone who dared to turn to look. She was no longer the kind, sweet Ginny that she had been in Hogwarts. No, now she was cold and distant and trusted no one. But deep down inside, she still had that warm centre, still had a heart. She'd just built up walls. She sighed, digging through her bag. Her heartstrings tugged when she saw it, the one thing that kept her going each day. The photo of Harry and her, back when they were dating, and her wand. It was not much, only Maple, 7 3/4 inches, with a core from a dragons heartstring, but she loved it. She blinked back tears, finding a pen and her English book, before setting her bag on the ground. Five minutes later, three boys walked in. She remembered them from last year, but now she saw them, they were nearly unrecognisable. She could tell who was who, from their faces, but that was all. Embry Call and Quil Ateara were both tall and muscular, (6'4, for crying out loud!) but Jacob Black took Ginny's breath away. He must have been 6'6 and his black shirt hugged his body, showing off a lot of muscle. But Ginny would not fawn over him like the other girls. She refused to. She didn't care if it meant she would never get a boyfriend, she was Ginny Weasley and she was independent. Besides, being a werewolf, you could never slip, and so you had to be distant. She ignored Jacob when he took a seat beside her and she ignored him when he tried to talk to her. But it pained her. She sighed, writing when she was meant to and being quiet when she had to, but her mind wasn't in it. She was daydreaming of Hogwarts. She'd be in her seventh year now; she could have been holding hands with Harry and laughing with Hermione. She could have been scolding Ron and playing pranks on people with Fred and George. She could be helping in the final battle which she knew was coming. But she wasn't. Instead, she was hidden in LaPush, ashamed of what she had become. She remembered the pain of her first full moon, remembered waking up the next morning to an unrecognisable body beside her. That was one of the reasons why she had moved into the forest and created that sad excuse of a home. She knew she deserved no luxury, deserved to be alone for the rest of her life, so she had done the right thing.
When the bell for the next period filled the air, Ginny sighed and gathered up the book and her pen, putting them in her bag and slinging the bag over her shoulder.