Ginny reminds Neville of Boudicca, flame-haired warrior queen. She likes that.Warnings:
The boys and girls belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.Author’s Notes:
This was written for sortinghatdrabs
’ intra-house free-for-all
; the prompt was house common rooms/dormitories
. I won, which is always a: surprising (especially this week, which I always say but REALLY) and awesome.
“You remind me of Boudicca, you know.”
Ginny turned from her practice dummy to give Neville a puzzled look. She was glad to do it: the Room of Requirement’s dummies were nicely challenging, but she liked fire curses and the smoke smelt horrible.
Neville nodded. “She was an Iceni queen – it was a Celtic tribe,” he added. “Gran made me study them. I think she liked their approach to things – lots of curses, and swearing vengeance on anyone who harmed the family.”
She wanted to stand between his wistful smile and the world, so nobody else could see that naked look on his face.
“Boudicca’s husband was a puppet ruler for the Romans. When he died they conquered the region properly. Boudicca was publically flogged but she didn’t give in. She led the Iceni in an uprising and burnt London to the ground.”
Ginny’s eyes widened. “Wow.”
“She had red hair like yours, too. And her name meant ‘victory’.”
“Sounds like my kind of woman.”
“Mine, too.” The brave attempt at suavity was ruined by a furious blush.
Ginny hid a smile, and turned back to the dummy. She sent another fire hex at it, grinning when the flames caught.
She’d love to watch Voldemort’s Ministry burn.~*~
She kept the idea of being like Boudicca close to her, a reassuring weight in her mind like the feel of her wand against her thigh. Being brave, and determined, and savage in her desire for victory. She’d always been like that for Quidditch, and someone had to be now. Neville was brave but so soft-hearted; Luna was brilliant but lacked the killer instinct. Ginny had to be like Harry. Like Boudicca.
When Amycus used the Cruciatus on her for endless minutes she got up with ringing in her ears. Beyond that, though, she could hear Neville’s soft voice saying she didn’t give in
She fought on, a lieutenant to her general and desperate not to stop fighting. It was so hard and almost absurd to lead a rebellion from inside a school, trapped in the routines of lessons and homework and meals in the Great Hall. But they couldn’t stop.
It was half-two on a Thursday night when she returned from drilling the fourth-year DA students. The Gryffindor common room was deserted, even the insomniacs in their dormitories.
Neville was sitting in front of the fire, eyes half-lidded. He glanced up as she crossed the room, and energy lit his tired face. “Ginny.”
“Hi. Listen, you need to talk to Ben Eagleton. His Disarming – ”
“I will,” he interrupted, “but let’s not talk about it now. In the Room of Requirement it’s all go, all war and suffering. I like being in the common room. It feels like nothing’s required.”
Ginny stared at him. Then she came and sat on the arm of his chair.
He stroked her hair, and they looked into the flames. When she kissed him, all she could hear was the quiet crackling of the fire.