A Little Broken

Ginny peered around the corner to see her mother bent over one of the hospital beds along with a silvery head that was becoming increasingly familiar. Averting her eyes, Ginny tiptoed through the door of the Hospital Wing, skirted along the wall, and scurried across the floor to visit with the other patient.

"Hey, Gin!"

Ginny held a finger to her lips. "Hey, Nev. How're ya' doing?"

"Better than you brother."

Ginny resisted the urge to look behind her. She knew the scene that would play out, it hadn't changed much in two days. Her mother and Phlegm tenderly nursing Bill who was laid on crisp bed sheets, half his body wrapped in white gauze, a blanket pulled nearly to his chin, his red hair spread out in a halo around his head just like…

"So when do you get sprung from this place?" Ginny asked, sitting on the stool by Neville's bed.

"Leg's all healed so I expect to get my walking papers any moment." Neville laughed a little, but Ginny's expression registered nothing. "That was a pun, you're supposed to laugh."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Puns are the worst."

"Yeah."

They both smiled. Small smiles, the kind that didn't reach much further than the teeth. It had only been a few days since they fought a battle, right there in Hogwarts. Neville had been hurt, Dumbledore killed by that slimy git Snape, and Bill had been injured. It seemed the whole world was turned upside down, yet the sun shone.

"Why don't you go visit your brother," Neville said.

"I came to visit you," Ginny replied primly.

Neville lifted his eyebrows, but didn't comment, much to Ginny's relief. In all her life, Ginny had never found a better, easier friend than Neville Longbottom. Eventually, she had made friends with the girls in her dormitory, but those were the kind of friendships based on giggling over boys and trading class notes. There was Luna, of course. They had been friends since they were little, but Luna wasn't easy and anybody who thought so was daft. Luna Lovegood had a way of speaking the truth at the most inopportune moments. Most people assumed she was guileless and a bit dotty, but Ginny knew better. Then there was Hermione, who was really Ron's friend. Neville, on the other hand, was Ginny's friend.

It had all started with the Yule Ball. They had been acquainted beforehand, but true friendship had grown from that night. For a long time, Ginny hadn't understood what made Neville so comfortable to be around. A lot of the time, they never even spoke to each other, they just existed in the same space. Then, last year, Ginny learned about Neville's parents, and finally she understood.

Neville Longbottom was a little broken on the inside, just like she was.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

Ginny stood over Neville's spot in the greenhouse, hands on her hips, waiting for an answer. The Christmas holiday had been over for a week and Ginny hadn't seen so much as a hair on Neville's head since they returned. He could try to hide from her, but it didn't matter. Ginny knew exactly where to find the great, wallowing git. If there was one place Neville felt comfortable it was amongst his plants.

"Wh-what?" he stammered, looking beyond Ginny's shoulder. "I-I'm not avoid—"

Ginny scoffed. "Then where have you been this last week?"

"Cl-class?"

Ginny regarded her friend for a long time before sitting next to him at the table. She pulled a Fanged Geranium over to her and began pruning it. Beside her, Neville continued his ministrations on his plant. After a moment, the old easiness returned. Sometimes Ginny thought that her skill at Herbology was due entirely to long hours spent pruning plants with Neville.

"Ginny," he said after some time. "I'm not ashamed of them."

"I know."

Neville looked at her. "They were brave, but… I don't want your pity."

"Do you know what happened in the Chamber of Secrets, Neville?"

He shook his head.

"But you suspect, don't you?"

Slowly, Neville nodded his head, then returned to his plant. "It was you, wasn't it? I mean, I'm rubbish at magic and theory, but…"

"How could a memory gain enough power to come alive if it wasn't feeding on a soul? Yeah, Neville, it was me. I was stupid and scared and weak and-and—"

"You're not." Neville looked at her, his eyes wide. "You have to be so strong to survive something like that, just not in ways other people expect."

Ginny hugged Neville. It was an easy, natural gesture for her, who had been hugged her whole life, but not for Neville. She could feel the tension in his pudgy body, the stiffness of his arms as they hovered inches from her body, unsure what to do. Tightening her arms around him, Ginny held on until Neville hugged her back.

"Er, Ginny, let's go back to the castle, it's getting late."

Ginny pulled away, her eyes blazing as they bore into Neville's. "You're strong, too. Never think otherwise."

"O-okay, but the castle."

The Neville Longbottom who sat in the hospital bed before Ginny was the same bumbling boy and yet he wasn't. In a year and half, Neville had shed a layer of baby fat, grew three inches, and gained a world of confidence. He'd fought in two battles, same as Ginny. He could even hug without getting all flustered. Well, sometimes.

"I've been taking care of your Mimbulus Mimbletonia," Ginny informed him. "Or, well, I've been trying. It squirted Stinksap all over Lavender Brown in the common room, completely by accident—"

"Sure it was," Neville replied with a shake of his head.

"It was!"

"And you haven't been wanting to prank Lavender all year?"

"Hey, I have an entire assortment of pranking items at my disposal if I wanted to get back at that slag for being completely mental over Ron of all people."

Neville opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a commotion a few rows over. Craning around, Ginny saw Phlegm whirl away from Bill's bed and march away in a flurry of hair and skirts, fists clenched. Mum sat placidly by Bill's side, watching the Veela girl go. Ginny scowled.

"What do you think all that's about?"

"I don't know," Neville replied honestly.

"Do you suppose she got tired of the act and Mum finally chased her off?"

Neville pinned Ginny with a hard, knowing look. "What act? I know you don't like Fleur Delacour, but…"

"Well, who could? She's so haughty, and all she does is complain. I don't know what Bill sees in her."

"Listen, Ginny, I think you got it all wrong."

Ginny pursed her lips. "Have you fallen under her spell, too? You know that's just her Veela magic that's making you all hot and bothered, right? She's really a-a hag!"

Neville covered Ginny's fist. "I know you don't want to hear this—"

"Then don't say it!"

"What kind of friend would I be if I didn't tell you what you needed to hear?"

"The best kind?"

"She loves him, Ginny. Since I've been here, that's the first time I've seen her leave your brother's side. I've seen her change his bandages and apply his potions. I-I know you won't want to know this, but the other night… Bill woke up screaming in pain."

Ginny turned her back on Neville. His words hit her in the chest with more force than a blasting spell. Bill was in pain? Of course, she knew that he was, but hearing the details like that made Ginny's hands shake, it made her stomach seize up. She heard Neville moving on the bed behind her, then he was sitting beside her.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, I am, but I think you should know. Fleur, she was sleeping in the cot beside Bill, she screamed down the whole Hospital Wing for Madam Pomfrey to come help your brother. When Madam Pomfrey finally came, Fleur held Bill and sang to him while he got his potions. He calmed right down."

Ginny slid a glance at Neville. "Is she a terrible singer?"

"No," Neville replied and laughed. "She sings like an angel."

"Of course she does." Ginny rolled her eyes.

"She really loves him, you know, for better or for worse. It-it's how I like to imagine my parents."

The last part was said softly. Ginny closed her eyes against the emotion that was in Neville's voice, the traitorous feelings welling up in her own chest. She didn't want to hear about Phlegm loving Bill. She, Ginny, loved Bill, she would do all of those things for him. And really, who would turn away from a man in pain? It didn't mean that they had some sort of forever love, it just meant that Phlegm wasn't a complete bitch. Close to it, of course, but Ginny supposed even Draco Malfoy had a redeeming quality. Though, she had a hard time imagining what it could be.

Abruptly, Ginny hugged Neville, his arms crushing around her. If anybody asked, she would tell them that Neville needed comfort, but really Ginny was hiding her tears. Neville probably knew they were there, but she didn't want him to see them.

"Go see your brother," Neville said softly into Ginny's ear. "I'll meet you up in the common room later."

When Ginny was sure the tears would not fall, she pulled away. "All right. See you later."

Taking a deep breath, Ginny turned to face her brother's bed. It was a row above and three beds down. Mum sat next to Bill with her knitting, winding yarn around the needles. Squaring her shoulders, Ginny trudged over, placing a hand on Mum's shoulder.

"Oh, Ginny dear," Mum exclaimed. "Do sit with me awhile."

Ginny hadn't seen Mum since Christmas. She had looked worn then, but it seemed as though she had aged ten years since January. There was more gray in Mum's hair, which was frazzled and untidy, wrinkles pinched around her mouth and eyes, and she had lost weight. It wasn't a noticeable amount, but when Mum pulled Ginny into a hug, there was a layer of comfort missing.

"Where did Phlegm go?" Ginny asked, not keeping the venom out of her voice, or the spite out of her eyes.

"Her name is Fleur and you have to start calling her that," Mum said. She didn't yell, but there was steel to her words. "She's going to be family soon."

"You're singing a new tune," Ginny snapped.

Mum gave her a look. "We were wrong about Fleur, dear, it's past time we admit it."

"All because she thinks Bill's looks don't matter?" Ginny flicked her hair over her shoulder and mimicked, "I am good looking enough for zee both of us, I zink."

"Ginny." There was more steel in Mum's voice and her color was rising. "I do not want your brother to hear you making fun of his bride. That girl loves Bill, and we should have trusted him to make a good choice—he always does."

"Hmph."

Ginny crossed her arms, and turned away. Mum's mind was made up, and Ginny knew there was no point in arguing when Mum was like this. For nearly a year, Mum had been waging a silent campaign against Bill's Veela fiancé, but one bedside outburst and all was forgiven. Well, Ginny hadn't forgotten what a snob the girl was. Or the way she pranced around like she was better than everybody else. And for as long as she lived, Ginny would never forget how disgusting it was to watch Bill and Phlegm feed each other and giggle at the dinner table.

"You don't have to like her," Mum said. "Do you really think I like Auntie Muriel? The woman is a dragon. But I show her respect and kindness because she's family, Ginevra, and I expect you to do the same with Fleur. Goodness knows she's done more to earn it than Auntie Muriel ever has."

"Why?" Ginny turned on her mother, eyes narrowed. "Just because she publicly declared her love for Bill when you expected her to run?"

Mum set the knitting needles aside, and took Ginny's clenched hands into her own. "It was more than that, Ginny, you know it was. Look at your brother."

Ginny didn't look, she stared at her mother's hands instead. She didn't need to look, she'd already seen Bill the night it happened. Torn, gouged, bloody. Ginny closed her eyes, but snapped them open again. The only thing she saw behind her eyelids was the battle, the corridor to the Astronomy Tower, the blood.

"So, Bill's going to be scarred," she muttered.

It was more than scarred though, and Ginny knew it. Half his lip was hanging off. Madam Pomfrey and three Healers from St. Mungo's had used every spell they knew to fix Bill's mouth, and none of them had worked. The twins told Ginny that Dad was arguing for Muggle stitches, but nobody had agreed to such extremes yet.

"It's more than his looks, Ginny," Mum said gently. "Bill's going to be changed."

"Lupin said he wouldn't be a werewolf!"

"I hope he's correct, but we won't know that for a few more weeks, will we?" Mum took a deep breath, her hands going tight around Ginny's. "Even if he isn't a werewolf, even if he shows only the barest of wolfish tendencies, he's going to be changed."

"It's Bill! Do you think he'd let some…" Ginny screwed up her face trying to spit out the nastiest word she could think of for that monster who attacked Bill. "Some-some bloody, nasty—git like Greyback—"

Ginny's chest was heaving. She looked up at the ceiling, blinking at the beams and arches. It felt as though she had just done fifty wind sprints on the pitch. Her heart was beating so fast, and her eyes burned. Maybe she needed Madam Pomfrey?

Mum placed her hands on Ginny's cheeks. "Bill was attacked, he survived physical trauma. That leaves little rips in your soul. Even if they scar over, he'll never be exactly who he was before. Just like you aren't the same after the Chamber of Secrets."

The words were so gentle, but Ginny flinched. The burning in her eyes were tears, Ginny couldn't deny it any longer. She stared into the kindness of her mother's face, feeling as though a steel band was wrapped around her chest.

"You think I'm broken?" Ginny meant her words to come out defiant, but it sounded more like a wimper.

"No," Mum whispered. "You are the strongest person I know, Ginny."

"How can you say that? I let him shred my insides apart, I let him use me!"

"And you fought him, all by yourself, and just a little girl. Oh, Ginny."

"I wasn't strong enough."

"You were as strong as you needed to be, and now look at you."

Look at her? That was something Ginny didn't like doing very much. Every morning, she put on a cloak of toughness, and sometimes it felt as though it was more than a façade. The bravery, the brashness, the confidence felt like her. Other days she felt like a quivering mess inside a brittle shell, and she just hoped nobody noticed.

"You might be vulnerable," Mum said, "but there is a core of steel in your center, Ginny. Never forget that."

"You-you think so?" The words were so tiny they were nearly lost in the vastness of the Hospital Wing.

Mum's arms went around Ginny, stronger than an iron beam. "I know so."

Sobs broke out of Ginny's chest. She buried her head in her Mum's shoulder and cried for the child she was, the battles she fought, and for her brother. It came out of her in a four-year storm of grief that her mum absorbed. Desperately, Ginny wanted to be brave like her brothers, her parents, her dead uncles, and Harry. She wanted to face the Death Eaters with righteousness, but really she wished she never had to fight this blasted war. She wished Bill hadn't felt like he needed to come home from Egypt and met that Veela tart. She wished she could be a teenage girl who didn't know what it was like to be used by a tyrant bent on destroying everything she loved. That didn't make her feel strong.

"I-I thought he was dead, Mum," Ginny sobbed. "Bill. I thought he was dead. One moment he was fighting some Death Eater and looking like he was having the time of his life. Then I went off with Ron, following some other bad guy on a merry goose chase. When we got back to the corridor…" Ginny pulled away and wiped her eyes. "Bill was lying in a pool of blood. I-I thought…"

"But he wasn't," Mum said, taking Ginny's hand.

"I wanted to help him, to go to him, but there were spells and hexes everywhere. We were outnumbered and on the run and-and…"

"Shh, shh," Mum hushed and pulled Ginny against her shoulder. "It's over now and you all survived, thank Merlin."

Leaning against her mother, Ginny looked at Bill asleep on the cot. The bandages covered most of his face, but she could still make out angry red marks ripping his skin. Those weren't the only ones, she knew, but the five slashes across Bill's face would be the ones people would see. They would turn from him in disgust or stare at him in pity. None of them would see the handsome, funny, easygoing brother that Ginny grew up with, that she idolized. They wouldn't see the smile that made her feel like a princess, or the way his watchful eyes followed her so that she always felt protected when he was around. When she thought he was dead, something had wrenched in Ginny's chest that was so painful that she hoped she never felt it again.

"So," Ginny said after some time, her voice came out rusty. "How'd you make… Fleur go away."

Mum sighed. "She's not gone further than the toilet since that night. I told her if she didn't go home to eat and get some sleep, I would have her banned from Bill's bedside. I'm his mother after all, and she's not his wife yet."

"Mum," Ginny laughed. "You're so bad."

"Yes, well, I think she was a bit cross with me, but it was for her own good. I can't have another one in the Hospital Wing, can I? And she'll be back soon enough." Mum sighed. "They are planning to set the… the stiches before dinner."

"What happens next, Mummy?"

"I don't know," Mum replied, staring into the distance. "But we have a wedding to plan and I'll be needing your help."

Mum prattled on about dresses, cakes, and flowers, but Ginny let the words wash over her. Nothing from this moment on was certain, except that Harry was going to leave. He'd go wherever he needed to fight Voldemort, and Ron and Hermione would follow. As for the rest of the Weasleys, they would be standing firm until the fight came to them too, Ginny included. Until then, there would be a wedding.