Ginny was dressing up as a boy. Simple as that. In order to fight in the regiment that her brothers had all joined, the Aurors, she would have to pretend to be a seventeen-year-old boy.
No pressure, no pressure, Ginny, thought as she placed an olive green cap over her now boyishly-short hair, and walked into the initiation field, drawing her wand to begin drills.
"We don't accept those who cannot keep up with themselves," a jet-black haired young man, her brother's best friend and commanding officer, Harry Potter, said. "You need to be able to fight, every one last of you. No fighting like girls."
I'll show you fighting like a girl, Ginny snarled in her head, her expression neutral except for the fiery glint of defiance in her brown eyes.
Officers came down, asking for names. Ginny had a chuck-ton of cousins on the Weasley side to hide behind, but she'd rather take the name of her heroic uncles, Fabian and Gideon, long dead as they were, God bless their souls.
"Name, sir?" Those green eyes didn't recognize her.
"Gilbert Prewett, sir," she said back in a lower voice than she usually had, one that was more boyish, although it could range to a female, but not enough that anyone would question her disguise.
"Ah, which one's?" Commander Potter asked.
"Fabian's, sir!" Ginny said, or excuse her, Gilbert.
"Very good. Didn't know he had a daughter." He then moved on before Ginny was forced to talk her way out of that one.
Ginny continued to ace training and initiation. As she studied and drilled and trained, she was starting to become attracted to one boy in particular. With dark hair, and a roundish face, although he was now starting to become quite attractive, clever Neville Longbottom was starting to fill her mind often. Too often.
"I don't get it!" He finally cried, the night before the big exam that would guarantee their entry into the Aurors.
Many of the men- young boys, really, like Colin Creevy, who probably wasn't seventeen in Ginny's eyes, looked up and groaned. Most of them had gotten sick of Neville on the first day. He was so clumsy, fumbling over everything, practically tripping over his own feet.
"What's the matter?" She asked suddenly, not wanting a fight to break out and be forced to watch Neville defend himself against boys who had studied and were probably a million times better than he was. It was like watching someone kick a stray puppy.
"I don't get it, I've tried my best to do every spell, but it never works for me," Neville explained tearfully.
"Is your wand alright?" Ginny asked, remembering how in her second year, Ron had broken his wand, and any attempts to repair it resulted in a rather faulty wand, involving incidents such as burping up slugs, obliviating the person who had cast the spell, and none of the spells working like they were supposed to.
"It's my dad's," Neville confessed.
"Why isn't he using it?" She asked.
Neville looked left, then right, and lowered his voice so only Ginny could hear him. "The only reason I've gotten this far is because my mum and dad were famous, talented Aurors, who were tortured to insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange. My grandmother always compares me to my dad, and tells me that I'll never be good enough."
"So she makes you use his wand?" Ginny asked. "Neville, you need your own. Go talk to Potter, he won't laugh or call you stupid, he'll help you get another wand, one that will actually work for you."
"I will," Neville decided, looking at her with those dark eyes that sent shivers down her spine, the ones that confused her. She was supposed to be a gritty soldier, or at least a naive trainee about to be a gritty soldier, not some lovesick puppy, like she had been in school. That was part of the reason she'd joined up with the Aurors. She never wanted to be that lovesick fangirl chasing after Harry Potter again.
But this wasn't Harry Potter, was it?
Ginny rose ranks in the Aurors quickly. Ever since her first recon mission, when she had to save Neville from one of the Death Eaters patrolling the neighborhood where Potter once lived, people began to speak of her power, and her Bat-Bogey Hexes in particular. Everyone would recognize her in the canteen, and the boys would all want to talk to her, would want her on their side.
For the first time, Ginny was learning fame and popularity, and she was loving every minute of it. Neville was rising into glory beside her, it was noted, and everyone wanted those two on their squad.
Ginny thought she just might love him.
They'd gotten into a bad situation, and now they were hiding behind crates in Knockturn Alley, all looking around wildly. Ginny could've cursed herself. She'd gotten hit with an unknown curse, and she was struggling to stay awake in the pain. It felt like liquid fire.
"You've got to stay awake, Gill," Neville said, using his nickname for Ginny. "Tell me something about yourself."
Ginny had only two confessions, but neither were exactly the type she wanted to spill. Yet, for this sake. "I love you, Neville," she confessed, with what she thought might be one of her dying breaths.
"Who doesn't?" He chuckled, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
"No, like, I romantically love you," Ginny said. "That leads to another one. My name is really Ginny Weasley. I'm a girl."
Neville gasped, and Ginny nodded. "It's true."
"I don't care," Neville said, holding her close.
When people found out, she was immediately sent to Potter's office. "Ginerva Weasley, you mean to tell me that you ran away from home, cut off your education, and impersonated a soldier to prove yourself?"
She nodded, not afraid of those green eyes anymore. "And I did a damn well job of it."
Potter burst out laughing. "That you did, Ginny. We'd still like to keep you on the team, with your abilities."
Ginny nodded. "Now that that's settled, I'd like another mission, Commander."
"Easy girl," he chuckled.