Ginny groaned as she pushed herself out of bed. She was still sore from her detention the week before. "Dammit," she cursed as her pajamas rubbed against an open cut.
She brushed her teeth and tried to remember what she'd been dreaming about.
Harry.
It was always Harry. Sometimes Ron and Hermione were there. Harry always was.
Harry.
She missed him. Knowing that he was off in the middle of nowhere doing God only knows what hit her hard every morning.
Woke up late today, and I still feel the sting of the pain.
Ginny shook her head, as though doing so could knock away unwanted thoughts. She yanked a brush through the tangled mess she called hair and smiled. She could smile. She could adapt. She could be okay.
When she had pulled on her school uniform and grabbed her books, she headed down to the Common Room. "Hey Neville, hey Seamus," she greeted her friends.
But I brushed my teeth anyway, got dressed through the mess, and put a smile on my face.
"I take it you slept well?" Neville asked.
"Yep. You?"
"Mostly. Last night was nerve-wracking, though," Neville admitted.
"I slept fine," Seamus grinned. "Always do."
"Of course you do," Ginny teased, knowing that Seamus slept about as well as she had. He was worried for Dean and his mom, but he'd never admit just how much. Seamus was a worrier. Just like Harry. "Well, I'm hungry, and breakfast sounds appealing."
Stupid song made me think of you, I listened to it for a minute, but then I changed it. I'm getting a little bit stronger.
"I wanna see the pissed off look on Snape's face," Seamus said eagerly. "I wonder if he covered up the graffiti in the Great Hall yet."
"I'm sure it was the first thing he did," Neville replied, "but that doesn't change that we know it's there."
Just a little bit stronger.
Less than thirty minutes later any thoughts of Harry were wiped from Ginny's mind. There was only one person she was thinking of now.
Neville.
The way his body looked on the wall.
The way the blood poured over his back.
The way his face was screwed up in terrible pain.
Neville.
What could Ginny do?
Nothing was the pride and hope-crushing answer. Nothing she could do would help Neville. It would only make everything worse.
I know my heart will never be the same.
She knew that that thought hadn't occurred to Seamus, who would blindly defend his friend without a thought for his own well-being or the overwhelming inherent risks.
But I'm telling myself I'll be okay.
Ginny's small contribution to make such a day a little bit better was to pick Seamus' pocket and tuck his wand away in her school bag.
She couldn't ease Neville's pain. She couldn't take off the shackles. She couldn't make the Carrows and Snape disappear. She couldn't change the world.
But she could change herself.
Even on my weakest days, I get a little bit stronger.
Everything the Carrows threw at them had one purpose: to build character.
Sure, today everybody was down. Neville and Ernie were suffering, and their peers were suffering with them. But tomorrow…
Doesn't happen overnight, but you turn around and a month's gone by, and you realize you haven't cried.
A full night's sleep.
The idea of it had seemed so ridiculous a couple of months ago. So much had been happening. Between the DA and the workload that came from missing a month of school because you were locked in the dungeons, Ginny had been too busy to sleep.
For weeks, she wouldn't get to sleep until the middle of the night only to wake up hours later because either the spiders or the werewolves had gotten her, Neville, and Luna.
Sometimes, she never made it out of the dungeon. She never saw another person. She was alone, and everything was completely and utterly silent. Those nights were the worst. Those nights she didn't go back to sleep.
Ginny was a social person. She thrived around other people. At home, there were six older brothers, Harry, Hermione, Lee, and any number of Order members. The Burrow was never quiet.
Ginny hated the quiet.
When she woke up after those nightmares, the quiet in her dormitory was almost suffocating.
She went down to the Common Room and sat by the fire. Pulling open a book, Ginny would read aloud. Her accents and tone varied. It worked. She didn't feel quite so alone.
I'm not giving you an hour or a second longer.
When she was finally out of make-up work, she didn't know what to do. She crawled into her bed at a completely reasonable hour and was quickly asleep.
She didn't dream. She didn't wake up. She didn't stir.
Ginny woke up in the morning feeling refreshed. Her mind was clear. She felt like she could handle whatever the day threw at her.
I'm busy getting stronger.
Muggle Studies meant listening to Alecto Carrow drone on about the harmful side effects of equality with muggles. Muggles were animals. They were filth. Associating with them led to a decline in intelligence and productivity.
The usual load of crap.
Ginny wasn't really listening. She hadn't paid much attention when Professor Burbage had been teaching a real class, so there wasn't even the slightest inclination to listen to Carrow.
"Miss Weasley, are you paying attention?"
"Yes, ma'am," Ginny responded before it even registered that it wasn't her old muggle studies professor that had posed the question.
The normality of the situation. The often-asked question. The often-given, yet false answer. The last three pieces of the puzzle Ginny had been desperately trying to solve.
"Actually, Professor," Ginny interrupted whatever Carrow had been saying about the dilution of pure blood.
"Yes?"
In the two seconds it took Carrow to turn around, Ginny slipped a Puking Pastille into her mouth. "I don't feel so well."
Carrow eyed her suspiciously.
Ginny's face turned green. "Please, Professor, I'm going to hurl."
"Detention this Friday. Get out of my classroom, Miss Weasley."
"Thank you, Professor." Ginny darted out of the room. She vomited just as she passed the threshold.
As soon as she was in another hallway, Ginny took the other half of the pill.
She headed to the library. Nobody would look for her there. Who skipped class to go to the library? Well, other than Hermione. Rather than sitting at a table, she headed to the back corner, past shelves of books, and slid down to the floor.
Any other year this was when she would cry a little bit until someone (generally Hermione, the most insightful person she knew) would come find her and talk her out of her funk. But this year was different. Ginny didn't have many tears left, and she wasn't going to waste them now.
And I'm done hoping that we can work it out.
Hearing Professor Burbage's question come out of Carrow's mouth had made her feel, for just the one second, like she was back in her fifth year. Sure, the Dark Lord was still a threat then, but her OWLs had seemed so much more imminent. Now, her grades themselves didn't matter. They were better than they had ever been, but that was because of training with the DA, not because she was worried about school – why worry when you don't plan on coming back?
I'm done with how it feels, spinning my wheels.
She realized that there had always been this hope that the school year would magically become a normal one again. She'd held out against all odds, somewhere deep down inside her, that the Carrows would disappear, and Dumbledore would come back.
When pigs fly.
She could make pigs fly, but that wouldn't do any good. She had never really understood Muggle sayings; no matter how many times Hermione explained them.
Alecto Carrow was never going to be a good teacher. She was never going to give students lines for detentions. She was never going to change her views.
Alecto Carrow would torture any student who crossed her. In the inevitable battle, she would kill anyone who fought her – student or not.
Amycus was the same way. Snape too.
All the Death Eaters, really, would kill her without a second thought.
I'm done thinking that you could ever change.
Ginny had to let go of that little voice that said things could ever be normal again. She realized that no matter what, she was a blood traitor. She was a Weasley. She was Harry Potter's girlfriend (despite what Harry thought). She was opinionated.
And she hated the Carrows with a burning passion.
How does it feel without me, baby?
She couldn't have what she wanted, so she had to deal with what she got. Reality wouldn't change because she wanted it to.
And that meant, in battle, she'd have to kill her opponent – teacher or not.
And she'd have to be tortured.
And she'd have to never change her views.
If you fight fire with fire, you get burned. But Ginny had always liked fire. And being burned was better than being dead.
Even on my weakest days, I get a little bit stronger.
'Alecto can kiss my ass' Ginny thought derisively.
I get a little bit stronger.