A/N: Thanks to all the lovely people who reviewed! This here is chapter two, from Ginny's perspective. Hogwarts has changed... and the story of how the two got together, as well as why there are so many new teachers... will become apparent later :)
Disclaimer: Only Mary Sues claim to own HP characters. Despite what it might seem, I am not a Mary Sue.
~*~
A new gray dawn. A new morning. A new day of brave, empty smiles and classes to go through. She was Head Girl, and especially after that battle last year, there were a lot of obligations. A face of optimistic courage to keep, along with the secrets.
The girl, almost eighteen, sat amongst her housemates at breakfast, the pancakes barely touched on her plate, sipping her pumpkin juice every few seconds. Her face was calm, a blank sort of expression seamlessly in place, and her gaze rested upon the high table. Yes, the teachers still sat there.
They were not the same teachers as before. The battle last year had seen to that. Sure, the Death Eaters had been driven away, many apprehended or killed, but...
There had been a heavy price to pay.
Sitting at the end of the staff table, farthest away from the Gryffindors, was a young man, dark hair falling into moody blue eyes on a serious, reserved face. He taught the same class as his former Head of House, although aside from a handful of former Quidditch rivals, there weren't many who were TERRIFIED of the quiet Professor Montague. He was only in his early twenties, and even as such, he wasn't the youngest of the staff. The house of ambitions and secrets that he headed gave him dutiful respect, but it wasn't the easiest of jobs, to say the least, to endeavour to keep the tensions down.
Next to him, one who had never gotten along with him when they were students. Angelina Johnson, Charms professor. Another replacement for someone who was no longer there. Professor Johnson, whom Ginny had to bite her tongue not to call by her first name sometimes, kept a firm chin, and could even manage smiles and laughter despite everything. Many wished for her strength... and perhaps it was the case that she had someone there for support. Montague said something to her, and she gave him a slight smile before replying. Ginny watched, just a hint of wistfulness in her eyes. She wished that she could be like Angelina, in some ways.
Amongst which were to get a Perfect score on the Charms NEWT... and also to have someone there. Visible. Tangibly present.
Someday, though...
Though Angelina Johnson taught Charms, Ravenclaw House was not within her jurisdiction. The Head of the house of learning and wisdom, though, was even younger than herself. A former Quidditch player, no less, there to coach the sport.
There was still a woman teaching Quidditch and flying, but Cho Chang wasn't anything like Madam Hooch. The former Ravenclaw, always soft-spoken, taught skills and theory and played the part of referee with fairness, but her face was pale, more worn than a young woman of twenty's should ever have to be. After the evening flights that she took, she would come back with the barest hint of silent tears on her face, shouldering an old broomstick that had been given to her by her lover, back when they were still children.
Her lover was gone, in the thick of the war, an Auror facing death on a daily basis. With Ravenclaw logic and the understanding that came that he HAD to do this, Cho had let Roger Davies go off to war, managing a smile when she'd kissed him goodbye and maintaining a positive tone in the letters she wrote. But she WAS only 20. Still young. So many of them were still so young...
Su Li's face, unlike her friend's, was not anxious. The Defense professor's face was almost stony, a hint of bitterness that did not become her glinting in the dark eyes that caught every misdeed in her classes. She wasn't nearly as docile as Cho, and to those who might have remembered her as a sweet, bright young student back in the day, she seemed to have become hard, some of the witty good humour lost under no-nonsense determination and a cold hatred of Death Eaters.
The balance of her happiness and anguish rested in St. Mungo's, in the tightly closed eyes of a man who had not moved for a year, unconscious, alive but only just. Another price of the war, one out of countless. She kept going, because she was determined to, and if Su Li put her mind to something, she'd do it if it killed her.
Several of the professors that she'd grown up knowing WERE still there. Professor McGonagall, her hair gray now, was still teaching Transfiguration, Head of Gryffindor House. Madam Pomfrey, Professor Trelawney, Professor Sinistra and Professor Vector, along with Hagrid, Madam Pince and Filch. All still there. Professor Dumbledore, his blue eyes far more solemn these days, still sat at the center.
And then, closest towards the Gryffindors sat a fellow with round cheeks and wide dark eyes, who had always been a friend of Ginny's. Neville Longbottom had been appointed as successor to the only teacher whom he'd felt completely comfortable around. He'd seen more than almost all of his classmates, but somehow, his manner was shy and diffident rather than jaded. Ginny caught his eye for a brief moment, and he gave her a small smile.
They were, as far as everyone else knew, good friends. Former housemates and all, Neville having been a friend and roommate of the Head Girl's brother, them having once upon a time gone to the Yule Ball together. Now that all of her brothers were gone, most believed that Neville was filling the role, making sure that the youngest of the Weasley clan was safe and happy.
And in a way, he was.
Breakfast ended, Ginny gulping down the last of her pumpkin juice and a few bites of her cold pancake. Walking slowly out of the Great Hall amidst the pack of rowdy Gryffindors, she almost did not hear Professor Longbottom calling her name.
But he repeated it patiently, once, twice... and she stopped. Turning around, she walked up to him. "Yes?" Her eyes were wide, filled with an odd sort of hope.
"Miss Weasley," his voice was all propriety and professionalism, although there was hidden meaning in his steady eyes, "If it is convenient, I would like it if you could help me this afternoon. With the bittersweet nightshade."
She gave an almost inaudible gasp, before nodding quickly. "I'll be in Greenhouse five at three," she affirmed.
He gave a small smile and nod, and walked off to prepare for his first class of the day, while Ginny, her mind whirling, walked towards the Charms corridor.
Bittersweet nightshade... a poison, and an antidote. Dark green leaves, and glossy crimson berries.
An enigma and a mix of joy and pain, light and darkness.
Neville was probably the only one who knew the truth of THAT, in this school.
He was also her only hope.
Her only way of knowing things.
The link to the forbidden, and the messenger.
Classes passed in a blur as she counted the seconds until three o'clock.
~*~
Ginny all but ran out of History of Magic, quick, staccato footsteps ringing down the hallway, and made her way towards the doors that led outside. Greenhouse one, greenhouse two...
Taking a deep breath at the door of Greenhouse Five, she composed herself. Just a good student, Head Girl... going in to help a professor with a plant. There was nothing to look excited over.
Her face was almost blank aside from the shimmer in her eyes when she pulled the door open.
He was waiting for her, bent over the emerald vines of the bittersweet nightshade, plucking ripe red berries and putting them into a basket, counting under his breath. She cleared her throat, and he turned.
"Hello there, Ginny," he greeted her politely.
"Hi," she breathed out, "Er... about the nightshade..."
"Yes," he smiled slightly, "The nightshade... would you be so kind as to hold up this vine while I clip away the dead leaves on the bottom? I think that the first-year Slytherins gave it a bit too much water..."
She nodded, and walked over until she was standing next to him. He bent down to pull a pair of shears... a small roll of parchment attached to its handles, out of a pocket. Before the first brown leaf was clipped, the parchment had exchanged hands...
~*~
Later, as Neville put the last of the bittersweet berries away, Ginny, her eyes solemn, fed the parchment to a venomous tentacula, her eyes with a faraway expression.
"Tell Pansy thanks for me," she finally said.
"I will," Neville promised. "Now, it's time to go in. Thank you for your help today, Ginny."
It hadn't always been this way.
Disclaimer: Only Mary Sues claim to own HP characters. Despite what it might seem, I am not a Mary Sue.
~*~
A new gray dawn. A new morning. A new day of brave, empty smiles and classes to go through. She was Head Girl, and especially after that battle last year, there were a lot of obligations. A face of optimistic courage to keep, along with the secrets.
The girl, almost eighteen, sat amongst her housemates at breakfast, the pancakes barely touched on her plate, sipping her pumpkin juice every few seconds. Her face was calm, a blank sort of expression seamlessly in place, and her gaze rested upon the high table. Yes, the teachers still sat there.
They were not the same teachers as before. The battle last year had seen to that. Sure, the Death Eaters had been driven away, many apprehended or killed, but...
There had been a heavy price to pay.
Sitting at the end of the staff table, farthest away from the Gryffindors, was a young man, dark hair falling into moody blue eyes on a serious, reserved face. He taught the same class as his former Head of House, although aside from a handful of former Quidditch rivals, there weren't many who were TERRIFIED of the quiet Professor Montague. He was only in his early twenties, and even as such, he wasn't the youngest of the staff. The house of ambitions and secrets that he headed gave him dutiful respect, but it wasn't the easiest of jobs, to say the least, to endeavour to keep the tensions down.
Next to him, one who had never gotten along with him when they were students. Angelina Johnson, Charms professor. Another replacement for someone who was no longer there. Professor Johnson, whom Ginny had to bite her tongue not to call by her first name sometimes, kept a firm chin, and could even manage smiles and laughter despite everything. Many wished for her strength... and perhaps it was the case that she had someone there for support. Montague said something to her, and she gave him a slight smile before replying. Ginny watched, just a hint of wistfulness in her eyes. She wished that she could be like Angelina, in some ways.
Amongst which were to get a Perfect score on the Charms NEWT... and also to have someone there. Visible. Tangibly present.
Someday, though...
Though Angelina Johnson taught Charms, Ravenclaw House was not within her jurisdiction. The Head of the house of learning and wisdom, though, was even younger than herself. A former Quidditch player, no less, there to coach the sport.
There was still a woman teaching Quidditch and flying, but Cho Chang wasn't anything like Madam Hooch. The former Ravenclaw, always soft-spoken, taught skills and theory and played the part of referee with fairness, but her face was pale, more worn than a young woman of twenty's should ever have to be. After the evening flights that she took, she would come back with the barest hint of silent tears on her face, shouldering an old broomstick that had been given to her by her lover, back when they were still children.
Her lover was gone, in the thick of the war, an Auror facing death on a daily basis. With Ravenclaw logic and the understanding that came that he HAD to do this, Cho had let Roger Davies go off to war, managing a smile when she'd kissed him goodbye and maintaining a positive tone in the letters she wrote. But she WAS only 20. Still young. So many of them were still so young...
Su Li's face, unlike her friend's, was not anxious. The Defense professor's face was almost stony, a hint of bitterness that did not become her glinting in the dark eyes that caught every misdeed in her classes. She wasn't nearly as docile as Cho, and to those who might have remembered her as a sweet, bright young student back in the day, she seemed to have become hard, some of the witty good humour lost under no-nonsense determination and a cold hatred of Death Eaters.
The balance of her happiness and anguish rested in St. Mungo's, in the tightly closed eyes of a man who had not moved for a year, unconscious, alive but only just. Another price of the war, one out of countless. She kept going, because she was determined to, and if Su Li put her mind to something, she'd do it if it killed her.
Several of the professors that she'd grown up knowing WERE still there. Professor McGonagall, her hair gray now, was still teaching Transfiguration, Head of Gryffindor House. Madam Pomfrey, Professor Trelawney, Professor Sinistra and Professor Vector, along with Hagrid, Madam Pince and Filch. All still there. Professor Dumbledore, his blue eyes far more solemn these days, still sat at the center.
And then, closest towards the Gryffindors sat a fellow with round cheeks and wide dark eyes, who had always been a friend of Ginny's. Neville Longbottom had been appointed as successor to the only teacher whom he'd felt completely comfortable around. He'd seen more than almost all of his classmates, but somehow, his manner was shy and diffident rather than jaded. Ginny caught his eye for a brief moment, and he gave her a small smile.
They were, as far as everyone else knew, good friends. Former housemates and all, Neville having been a friend and roommate of the Head Girl's brother, them having once upon a time gone to the Yule Ball together. Now that all of her brothers were gone, most believed that Neville was filling the role, making sure that the youngest of the Weasley clan was safe and happy.
And in a way, he was.
Breakfast ended, Ginny gulping down the last of her pumpkin juice and a few bites of her cold pancake. Walking slowly out of the Great Hall amidst the pack of rowdy Gryffindors, she almost did not hear Professor Longbottom calling her name.
But he repeated it patiently, once, twice... and she stopped. Turning around, she walked up to him. "Yes?" Her eyes were wide, filled with an odd sort of hope.
"Miss Weasley," his voice was all propriety and professionalism, although there was hidden meaning in his steady eyes, "If it is convenient, I would like it if you could help me this afternoon. With the bittersweet nightshade."
She gave an almost inaudible gasp, before nodding quickly. "I'll be in Greenhouse five at three," she affirmed.
He gave a small smile and nod, and walked off to prepare for his first class of the day, while Ginny, her mind whirling, walked towards the Charms corridor.
Bittersweet nightshade... a poison, and an antidote. Dark green leaves, and glossy crimson berries.
An enigma and a mix of joy and pain, light and darkness.
Neville was probably the only one who knew the truth of THAT, in this school.
He was also her only hope.
Her only way of knowing things.
The link to the forbidden, and the messenger.
Classes passed in a blur as she counted the seconds until three o'clock.
~*~
Ginny all but ran out of History of Magic, quick, staccato footsteps ringing down the hallway, and made her way towards the doors that led outside. Greenhouse one, greenhouse two...
Taking a deep breath at the door of Greenhouse Five, she composed herself. Just a good student, Head Girl... going in to help a professor with a plant. There was nothing to look excited over.
Her face was almost blank aside from the shimmer in her eyes when she pulled the door open.
He was waiting for her, bent over the emerald vines of the bittersweet nightshade, plucking ripe red berries and putting them into a basket, counting under his breath. She cleared her throat, and he turned.
"Hello there, Ginny," he greeted her politely.
"Hi," she breathed out, "Er... about the nightshade..."
"Yes," he smiled slightly, "The nightshade... would you be so kind as to hold up this vine while I clip away the dead leaves on the bottom? I think that the first-year Slytherins gave it a bit too much water..."
She nodded, and walked over until she was standing next to him. He bent down to pull a pair of shears... a small roll of parchment attached to its handles, out of a pocket. Before the first brown leaf was clipped, the parchment had exchanged hands...
~*~
Later, as Neville put the last of the bittersweet berries away, Ginny, her eyes solemn, fed the parchment to a venomous tentacula, her eyes with a faraway expression.
"Tell Pansy thanks for me," she finally said.
"I will," Neville promised. "Now, it's time to go in. Thank you for your help today, Ginny."
It hadn't always been this way.