Author's Notes: A brief look at Ginny, post-war. The credit for Modern Wizarding History and of Neville teaching it goes to Sara Winters. Go read her stuff. Then review it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

She remembers the days of the war, or rather before the war, although her entire life has been a state of "war," technically—it's just been an undercurrent to real life, to faux peace. After all, as Dumbledore said, Voldemort never went away, he had just been waiting for a second chance.

But Ginny remembers "pre-war"—the Chamber of Secrets, Sirius Black, the Triwizard, Umbridge and the first time she dated Harry—and the death of Dumbledore, but that's one of the gray areas in James's Modern Wizarding History book—whether the start of the war proper was when the scrawny hero was 14 in a graveyard or if it was when Voldemort was revealed that horrific night in the Department of Mysteries or if it was when Dumbledore tumbled from the tower.

For Ginny, it is the formation of the DA and that hero-worship of a boy-hero coming to fruition. It is those first stirrings of rebellion before any of them ever dreamed it'd spin this wildly out of control. It is this that marks the "beginning" in Ginny's mind.

And then she remembers the days of the war. Neville (poor, poor Neville, roped into teaching a class about all the hell he went through that year) has asked her to come speak, come tell students about living under Snape and the Carrows, about dating and marrying a hero about being a hero herself. And Ginny refused, again and again, tells Neville she can't, she won't, that there's nothing she can say.

It is not because of any naïve feelings she has about teaching "Innocent Children" about war and horror. Ginny wouldn't wish the hell of her sixth year on anyone, but she (unlike so many stupid, stupid people who forget the past too quickly) holds no false illusions about innocence or youth. Ginny has seen first years stand against the Carrows, their chins thrust forward in pride, and she has seen third years with the horror of grim victory in their eyes. She is not delusional about the resiliency of people under pressure and she does not tell Neville no because she is concerned for the delicate students.

And she doesn't refuse to talk about it because she is repressing trauma, or because she doesn't like to think about it. (She doesn't, but she knows it's necessary, to relive those days before they suffocate her and there were days—way back when the war was over, during the time of painful reconstruction where she spent sleepless nights reliving those days of terror leading up to that night of hell.)

She refuses because she cannot find the worlds. Every time she tries, sits down to answer a question for the Prophet's 15-year special in regards to surviving Hogwarts during the war, every time—she cannot find the words to express all she felt during "those days." There is no way for Ginny to say everything she feels about "those days" and that is why she refuses.

There aren't words to describe those days—countless have tried, but the bravery and the beauty and the horror and the sadness—it's too much to put into a quote or a lecture or a book. There just aren't words, and that is why Ginny refuses.

So she tells Neville to tell the students that those days saw the best and the worst of her and everyone. That she lost friends and gained friends and forged bonds that are unbreakable.

And it's cliché and empty and shallow and doesn't even begin to express all that she's trying to say, but it is all she can find the words for to describe the horrific beauty, the terrifying glory, the grim victory of "those days."