Shortly after their first dinner back from winter holiday, Ginny made her way up to the owlery with a piece of parchment clutched in her hand. As she pushed open the heavy oak door, she saw another figure struggling to fix a letter onto the foot of one of the school owls.
"Hey there, Neville."
There was a rustling of feathers, and then a sort of hiss of discontent. Ginny heard a beak snap, and then a pained gasp from Neville.
"It bit me!"
Ginny nibbled on her lip to stop herself from smiling as she made her way over to help Neville. He popped his finger into his mouth to suck away the blood pooling at its tip.
"Let me," she smiled, gingerly taking the rolled up parchment from him and coaxing down a new owl, the other one having promptly flown away.
"It's for Gran," Neville muttered irritably to the new owl once Ginny managed to attach the letter to its foot. "She always makes me write her when I get to school, although I'm not sure why, seeing as she would know just about as soon as everyone else if something went wrong on the trip."
"She worries about you, is why."
"She's probably right to."
Ginny gave him a stern look to let him know she would not be entertaining his self-deprecation. Neville nodded to the parchment in her hand.
"Who's yours for?" He followed Ginny as she walked towards the window to send the owl away. With a soft hoot, it pushed off her arm and into the sky.
"Charlie. He got me an amazing Holyhead Harpies shirt for Christmas - forgot to say thanks over the holiday."
"The dragon one, right?" He looked at her hopefully.
"Yes! You remembered," Ginny grinned.
"In Egypt!"
She laughed at his enthusiasm. "You're so close. He's in Romania. Bill's the one in Egypt - or, well, was. He's back in London now."
Neville's smile fell. "I don't know why I can't keep them straight," he sighed.
"If you met them you would. If it makes you feel any better, Mum calls me Ron sometimes, which is incredibly more offensive than mixing up Bill and Charlie."
"I promise I'll get it right sometime. I'd never confuse you for Ron. How's Michael?"
"Oh, uh, he's fine," Ginny said absently, turning back towards the center of the room in search of another suitable owl. The look Neville gave her told her he wouldn't be accepting her vague answer. "We got in a spat," she shrugged by way of explanation.
"We only just got back to school!"
"He's annoyed about the Seeker thing. Here you, you look like you're in need of a job," she called towards a tawny that kept darting across the rafters, irritating its neighbors. The owl paused its zagging and dove energetically to land heavily on Ginny's outstretched arm.
Neville's brow furrowed. "Why? He should be excited for you, you've been wanting to play on the team for forever."
"Doesn't want to play opposite of me. Says it's because he doesn't want to hurt me, but I think it's because he's afraid I might be better than him."
"You're not even directly opposing him, you're in different positions. I thought it was a Gryffindor trait to be chivalrous."
"That's not chivalry, that's cowardice. Distinctly un-Gryffindor." Ginny huffed, heading once more towards the window. "If you want to give him the benefit of the doubt, you could blame the fanatical reasoning of a Ravenclaw."
"He's got some serious analysis to do on his logic if that's what his excuse is," Neville frowned.
"Gryffindor or not, no bloke at Hogwarts is truly chivalrous anyways. Too much growing up to do," Ginny hummed.
"I am!" Neville said, hurt.
"You are," Ginny agreed. She patted his arm fondly. "You're one of the good ones, Nev."
His cheeks flushed in response.
"Enough about me, how was your holiday? Go on, it's for Charlie," Ginny nudged at the owl who promptly flew off.
"It was fine - nice to get away from all of the nonsense here, anyways. I'm looking forward to the next DA meeting, though." Neville glanced cautiously behind them, expression turning serious. "How is your dad doing?" His voice lowered.
"He's just fine," she said quietly, eyes focused on the grounds below them. "We got lucky." Even though they were alone, she didn't trust the privacy of any parts of the castle these days, except the Room of Requirement, enough to elaborate. Neville nodded in understanding.
"How are your -" Ginny halted, realising the ignorance of the question she was about to ask. Her cheeks reddened.
Neville didn't seem bothered, however. He simply smiled at her, a bit sadly maybe. "They're okay, Gin. It's always nice when I get to see them."
She hadn't seen Neville since their encounter at St. Mungo's over the holiday, when she, Ron, Harry and Hermione, all learned about the horrible fate his parents faced during the war.
The guilt had gnawed at her. She remembered him telling her at the Yule Ball that his parents were Aurors. At the time, the past tense stood out to her. Now she regretted letting all this time pass and never once inquiring.
"I'm sorry, Neville," she whispered. Both for him being forced into a scenario where the situation with his parents was explained rather than him telling them on their own time, and for the tragedy itself. For how everyone in school underestimated him, having no concept of the strength he held in light of this horrible situation.
"Please don't be," he mumbled in reply, and the two met eyes for a moment. She felt a shifting tension in the air.
"I'm not ashamed of them, you know," Neville said, with a sudden defiance in his voice.
Ginny blinked in surprise. "Of course not, I didn't mean -"
"I know you didn't. I just don't want people to think that's why I don't talk about it. I'm not ashamed of them at all. I'm proud to be their son." He turned to face her, something unreadable swirling behind his green eyes. "I don't want people to pity me. And I don't want people to make comments about them, not because I'm ashamed of them but because I'm ashamed of me."
Ginny bit her lip, reaching her hand out to rest on his arm. "Neville…"
"I don't want people to make excuses about the way I am, saying it's because of them. It's not. They were amazing people, Gin, you heard Gran talking about them. They were Aurors, and they were good at everything they did and they were impossibly brave and I'm not." Neville's voice cracked, but he continued on. "Everybody in my family knows that. I'm a disappointment compared to them. I'm so proud to be their son, Ginny, but I'm so ashamed that I'm the son they have."
Ginny didn't hesitate to wrap her arms tight around Neville. He held still for a moment before reciprocating, his embrace nearly bone crushing. She felt his head dip down into her shoulder, felt a shudder in his breathing.
"You are not a disappointment, Neville, do you understand that? You are not a disappointment," she whispered after several moments. She pulled back slightly to look him in the eye. His cheeks were pink and eyes glazed over with a pained expression.
"Your parents would be so proud to have you as a son. You are so brave Neville, and their bravery lives on through you. You were sorted into Gryffindor for a reason. You belong in this house and you will do great things. I know you will. You will make them proud."
Neville stared back at her, his features softening while he shook his head ever so slightly.
Ginny pulled away fully from the embrace, considering him. Then, she punched him squarely in the arm.
"Ouch!" He yelped in shock, arm reaching to rub where she'd just hit him. "What in Merlin was that for?"
"I'm knocking some sense into you," Ginny said simply. "I mean it, Neville, you're amazing and it's about time you start recognizing it."
Neville stared at her incredulously, before bursting into laughter. Ginny found herself joining him, the sound contagious as it echoed off the stone walls of the owlery. "Maybe a warning next time?" He smiled sheepishly at her.
Ginny shook her head with a grin, looping her arm into his and leading him towards the exit. "That would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"
"You're mad," he laughed, pushing the door open and motioning for her to lead the way down the stairs.
As they walked through the corridors back towards the common room, Ginny's mind drifted to D.A. meetings, all of the progress they'd made in spite of Umbridge's pointless lessons.
"Hey Neville…," she started carefully, "What if it's you that's holding you back?"
"What do you mean? Of course I'm holding me back, I'm terrible at everything but Herbology," he said glumly.
"I don't mean that, and stop saying that," she sighed in mild exasperation. "I mean, what if you not believing in yourself is what's holding you back?"
"I don't follow," Neville frowned.
"You know how intention matters with magic, right? If you're telling yourself you can't, you'll never be able to do it. But if you believe you will, that you're capable, you won't be fighting yourself when trying to cast spells."
"You really think it's that simple?" He raised a skeptical brow.
Ginny shrugged. "Worked for Harry, when he cast his patronus. Couldn't do it, until he realized he already had."
"Is that what you do?"
"Kind of. I don't think about it that hard. I usually just tell myself that I know what to do, and let instincts take over."
Neville gave a half-hearted grunt. "Helps if your instincts are right. Mine never are."
"Mine aren't, not always," Ginny said. "For what it's worth, you're way more patient than I am when you don't pick something up right away. I get so frustrated sometimes I give up entirely."
"So how do you get around it then, when you're having trouble with a spell?" Neville asked, pace slowing. "Or does that never happen?"
Ginny rolled her eyes in response. "Of course it happens, I'm not Hermione."
She halted in the corridor and closed her eyes, trying to imagine the scenarios. Healing spells she always had an extra difficult time with. Reparo, in second year, when her plate she had to practice on kept shattering into smaller and smaller pieces. The more angry she got with herself the less her magic seemed willing to cooperate with her, fighting against her.
"When I'm having a really tough time, after I've thrown a fit and gotten mad at myself for not being able to do it, which of course never helps…"
Then McGonagall's voice, "Miss Weasley, I won't have any plates left if you keep up at this rate. Mm, the twins struggled with this one too, nearly destroyed the whole cabinet."
"I guess I remind myself that somehow my brothers figured it out eventually. And if they did, I can too. It's the same sort of principle, I suppose." Her eyes opened to see Neville staring back at her, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Ginny looked earnestly at him. "Maybe for you it's thinking of your parents. Reminding yourself that you carry their blood, their strength, their bravery. That everything they did, they learned first. That they struggled too before they found their greatness."
Neville's features softened, and then a small, genuine smile broke across his face. "I - I think I could do that. Worth a try, anyways."
Ginny reached to give his hand a small squeeze. "I think so too."
Neville's hand squeezed back before releasing the grip. "Thank you, Ginny."
She grinned back at him. "C'mon, let's get back to the Common Room. Ron told me the twins were planning on stealing a bunch of desserts from the kitchen, and I want to get my hands on some before they're all gone."