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Defiance | ||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny, Neville Longbottom Genres: Angst, Drama Warnings: Violence/Physical Abuse Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 6 Summary: Resisting the Carrows' reign was shaping up to be a marathon, not a sprint. Hogwarts, October 1997. Hitcount: Story Total: 1238 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights ? J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: I'm shaking off the rust with a new pseud and this little missing moment. Please review! xo |
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He grew the plants in his dormitory, where they crowded windowsills and shelves. The tropical ones hung near the showers for humidity. The Carrows didn’t know enough about Herbology to know the difference, to know that they weren’t class projects assigned by Professor Sprout, but rather potted medicines that she passed him under the guise of homework. Asphodel root for pain relief, fluxweed and dittany for wounds, goosegrass for fever. They’d started the exchange when the Carrows had begun restricting the hospital wing, barring everyone except pureblood students and forbidding Madam Pomfrey from treating anyone with injuries from punishment. Most nights, between the reinstated Inquisitorial Squad and the new additions to the staff, it was too risky to leave Gryffindor Tower after the mandatory curfew, so he and Ginny operated out of the seventh-year boys’ dormitory. With three unoccupied beds, there was plenty of room for harvesting, boiling, grinding, or soaking the herbs into usable remedies, and they were distributed in the common room. It was harder to pass medicines to Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in need; they had to be slipped into robe pockets and handed off in napkins at mealtimes. It was lucky that Gryffiindors were the easiest to distribute to, as they suffered the most injuries. Ginny, talented with potions, had just finished brewing a draught to reduce inflammation with ingredients nicked from around the castle. It was this potion that Neville found himself looking forward to after a particularly brutal detention. The cheek he’d given Amycus Carrow in Dark Arts had earned him an evening of sixth-year Slytherin curse practice. He staggered up from the dungeons into the Great Hall when it was over. As he headed toward Gryffindor Tower, Ginny approached him from the direction of Alecto’s office. He paused to let her catch up. Her white top was flecked with blood, her skirt torn, but her face broke into a weary grin when she saw him. “Oi. Looks like they got to play favorites tonight, eh?” Neville chuckled. He kept his eyes off her split lip and bruised cheekbone the same way she ignored his slight limp. At this point, it was easier that way. “Guess so. Too bad they didn’t get to tag-team like the last few times.” She shrugged. “Better us than the firsties.” He nodded in agreement as they trudged up the stairs, she wordlessly keeping his slower pace. It was a relief when they reached the portrait hole without running into anyone. “Think it’s a night for a couple of those Butterbeers?” she suggested with an arched brow. He grinned back at her, thinking of the small stash of comforts she’d been receiving from Fred and George, cleverly disguised as feminine potions. “Definitely.” He downed some anti-inflammation draught while she fetched the drinks from her dormitory, and the throbbing in his swollen knee began to subside. A few minutes later she was at the door with two bottles in her hand and a wry smile. She hadn’t changed out of her clothes, hadn’t even addressed the strands of hair falling out of her messy ponytail. “Seamus?” she wondered as she settled on the floor against the wall and passed him a bottle. “I think I saw him and Parvati studying in the common room,” he said, tapping his drink to hers. “Oh, that reminds me.” She scanned the room, taking inventory of the plants overflowing their pots. “Parvati told me that Demelza has a burn from Potions this morning. I don’t think it’s too serious, but she could use some Essence of Dittany and I know we’re out.” Neville peered at the silvery-green leaves cascading from their porcelain bowls, feeling rooted to the spot with fatigue. “Yeah, alright. I’ll dry some leaves overnight and make the Essence tomorrow. We should be keeping a bigger stock, anyway.” “Great, thanks.” Ginny sighed after taking a long sip, a rueful smile playing on her lips. “Damn, we really need something stronger for nights like these. I tried firewhisky with Ron over the summer, right after George lost an ear… that’s what we need.” Neville grunted in agreement. He remembered hearing something about that incident, about her brother being maimed the same night Mad-Eye Moody was killed over something that had to do with Harry. But he had to suppress his burning curiosity for more details “ Ginny didn’t talk about Harry anymore. “Any word from Luna’s dad?” he asked instead. She shrugged. “She got a letter from him at breakfast this morning. He’s still writing to her and seems fine, which is good I guess. That article in the latest Quibbler issue was pretty risky, though. She’s still worried about him.” The fear that clenched his stomach was so familiar by now that he hardly noticed it. “Well, let’s just keep hoping no one realizes how many issues are circulating, what with those Disguisable pages.” He winced as he lowered himself onto the floor beside her, his knee protesting. Ginny frowned. “They got you pretty good, huh?” she said quietly. He rolled his eyes. “I just took one good fall after a blasting curse. I’m fine. It’s not Crucio.” She sighed. “Yeah, well, Crucio has been the only one to not leave lasting injuries lately.” “Yeah, maybe,” he muttered. He studied the floor as the silence swelled. When Ginny spoke again, her voice was softer. “We’re not going to lose it, Nev. You know this is different.” “I know it’s different. That’s the worst part… they had it so much worse than we do. Can you imagine it being that much worse than this?” Her eyes searched him. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled after a minute. He swallowed and dismissed her apology with a wave. He wondered if his parents’ circumstance would ever feel like a normal part of his life. “Just… promise me you’ll tell me if it seems like I’m cracking up,” he said. She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, sweeping the fringe off his forehead. “I will. You passed the mental check for today, mate.” He laughed humorlessly, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes at her touch. “Great, thanks.” She took another slow drink, staring darkly at Ron’s empty bed. The cut on her lip had started bleeding again, and she wiped it away with her sleeve without looking. Neville studied her, taking in her newest injuries. He hadn’t noticed the cut along her hairline before. She’d already broken their unspoken agreement by asking about his detention tonight, so he decided to do the same. “You were with Alecto tonight?” She nodded silently. “Anyone else?” Ginny’s eyes fluttered closed, ad she held her head like it hurt. “Just her and good old Theo Nott this time. I don’t think Zabini made it interesting enough for her last week. I don’t even remember her reason for the detention. But she’s getting pretty miffed that I haven’t told her anything. She didn’t even try offering me Veritaserum this time, just let him get straight to spell practice.” Neville shivered at her blasé indifference. Had it really only been two months since she’d come in from her first detention with the Carrows, shaking and tight-lipped and bruised, having been tortured for the first time in her life? “I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “It is what it is, right?” It was odd, though, he thought, that Alecto had chosen to question Ginny without an audience tonight. Usually punishments were about obedience and control, a display for other students, a scare tactic under the guise of demanding information about Dumbledore’s Army and the Order of the Phoenix. The Carrows knew by now that Ginny and Neville weren’t in the Order; there was no reason not to make her discipline a show, unless… He steeled himself in case she would hex him. “They know, don't they? About you and Harry?” Ginny fixed him with her gaze, her chest rising before she let out a slow breath. “Yeah, they have a lot of questions about that.” “Have you convinced them it’s over?” She scowled. “It is over, Neville.” He considered his best friend: behind her exhaustion was a fierce gleam of protection. There had been a time when, like most boys at Hogwarts at some point, he’d had a crush on her. It’d faded in the years since he’d taken her to the Yule Ball, and he’d forgotten about it altogether by the time she dated Harry. Those two had seemed so natural, so perfect, that it was hard to picture her with anyone else. And her insistence that he’d ditched her was proof of that: Neville could tell there was nothing she wouldn’t do to protect him, even if it meant letting him go. Letting him hurt her. “I’m sorry. You seemed really happy with him, Gin.” “Yeah, well, he chucked me. I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.” He held his breath, hedging his bets. “You… you can tell me, you know, if this was just his plan. To protect you. You can tell me if it’s just… on hold.” He tried not to cower beneath the withering look she gave him. “I’m not waiting up for him. He’d never ask that. We just… we’re better as friends. It didn’t work out.” Her voice broke, and he could see her fear as she looked at him desperately, begging him to understand. “Okay. I’m sorry. It’s just… I lived with him for six years and I’d never seen him like that. I think he really liked you. Maybe, when it’s safe… when he’s not on the run, I dunno, maybe he’ll want to give it another go.” She pulled the bottle from her lips, her eyes hard. “He hasn't done a runner.” Neville looked at her. Most people suspected as much; Harry had never been one to flee from a fight. He waited for her to continue. “He’s on some sort of mission. Ron and Hermione, too. He couldn’t… he didn’t tell me anything, but he had all those lessons with Dumbledore, and I… I think he’s trying to end it. I just hope they know what they’re doing out there.” “I’m sure he does. If it was Dumbledore’s plan…” But the terror in her eyes caused him to trail off, and for a moment he shared her fear. “Sorry. I hope he doesn’t think he has to do it all alone.” She snorted, lowering her empty bottle. “Yes, well, you know Harry,” she muttered bitterly. “He’ll be okay, Gin. Look at how much he taught us all. Taught me, for Merlin’s sake. He’s smart and he’s good at this.” “I hope so. My brother’s out there too.” “I know.” Neville swirled the last of his drink, and they sat in silence. Something between them felt changed; he’d transgressed a boundary she’d held in place since meeting up on the train in September. And when Ginny met his gaze again, there was a strange look in her eye. “What is it?” “I have been thinking about something,” she confessed slowly. “It’s probably a really stupid idea, but… it could work. We can help them. We’d just have to figure out the details.” She was suddenly tentative, unsure whether or not to share. “Okay, brilliant. I’m sure we can figure it out,” he encouraged. She chewed her lip. “We’d have to get Luna in on it, too. And maybe some more of the DA. But they need all the help they can get out there. They need this.” He nodded slowly, raising a brow. Her eyes blazed determinedly as she glanced toward the door, and her lip quirked. “I think we need to steal the sword of Gryffindor.” |
| Reviews 6 |
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