The Difference Between a Martyr and a Hero is...: Weasley Family 3/100
Title: The Difference Between a Martyr and a Hero is Whether Or Not They Keep Their Eyes Open
Rating: PG
Characters: Ginny Weasley, Dennis Creevey
Pairings: Pretty Gen
Summary: Dennis confronts Ginny on their first day back at Hogwarts
Prompt: 006. Accusations from Quill It
“You killed him, you know?”
Ginny blinked three times at the boy in front of her, not fully comprehending the words coming out of his mouth. It was her first night back at Hogwarts, where she still felt a bit on edge, even if Snape was dead and the Carrows were both rotting away in Azkaban. The last thing she needed was an unfounded accusation that made her feel a slimy sensation crawl down her spine and settle resolutely on the small of her back. She decided the best thing would be to remain silent, and see if Dennis Creevey had an explanation.
“He died protecting you, didn’t he?”
It was true, really. She’d run outside the castle chasing after Yaxley, her mind so singularly focused on killing the man in front of her that she hadn’t noticed the stray spell flying at her from her left side. Colin had, and he’d jumped in front of her as a defensive measure. It was a split second decision; one Ginny knew only a true Gryffindor would have had no trouble making. She hadn’t had the time to rush to his side and see if he’d survived the hex. Yaxley was finally losing his advantage, and she had to get rid of him while she had the chance. She had attended the funeral given two days later, and cried over the grave of the young fallen soldier. It hadn’t been enough, she knew that, but she wasn’t expecting this.
“How could you just let him take the bullet for you?”
She knew what a bullet was, of course-if not from Muggle Studies in her fifth year, then from the Westerns Harry and Hermione often made her watch. She just couldn’t comprehend why Dennis was doing this. The confusion must have shown on her face, because the younger boy was speaking again.
“Why didn’t you protect him?”
Now that was just bloody ridiculous. She stared him down as she pulled out her wand and held it inches from Dennis’ chest. Her anger flashed across her face as she threw a bat-bogey hex at him. The moment he hit the ground, she lowered her wand and gathered her composure.
“Your brother was a hero,” she said, her voice cold and her eyes hard, “It would be best for you if you’d remember that, and stop ruining his name with accusations that have no place in Gryffindor.” As Dennis cleaned off his face, only to find that more of the critters continued to flap their wings against his eyelids, she said, “If you’re looking for someone to take the blame, you’re looking at the wrong girl. I have enough blood on my hands.”
They didn’t talk about it. None of the Weasleys compared body counts or injuries or scars. It had been War, and they’d done what was necessary to win. But the empty eyes of the people she killed still haunted her dreams, and Harry wasn’t the only one who woke up in the middle of the night screaming. Yaxley, Miles Bletchey, and three snatchers she didn’t know the names of and no one had been able to identify. She wondered, when she learned the bodies had gone unclaimed, if they were orphans, like Harry, who simply didn’t have anyone to guide them. It was all so bloody pathetic. She thought winning the War would change the world, but evil people still roamed free, and innocent children were still dead.
Dennis didn’t say anything-he couldn’t, with the bat bogeys flapping angrily against him. Ginny eyed him warily for another minute before she decided he’d had enough. She muttered the counter-curse and helped him up before cleaning the cuts from his face with a flick of her wand. “I know it hurts,” she told him, as she walked him to the stairs that led to the boys’ dormitories. “Believe me, I don’t think I’ll ever stop mourning the people I’ve lost. But you can’t diminish what your brother did by placing the blame on someone else. Connor”-and she hadn’t expected his name to be as hard to say as Fred’s, but it made sense that the “Coh” stuck to the roof of her mouth and had to be harshly hashed out and the “Ner” stumbled through her mouth like a drunken Fred at the Yule Ball-“died a hero. Take pride in that.”
Dennis nodded, his eyes belying the determined look on his face. The poor boy was hurt and scared, because this world was supposed to be the embodiment of all those muggle fairy tales he grew up with, but instead of stumbling into Cinderella and finding his Happily Ever After, he was Gretel to Connor’s Hansel, with the former lost and the latter dead. Ginny watched Dennis stumble off to bed and decided she was going to write Harry first thing in the morning. She needed someone to teach her how to handle her guilt complex, and Harry, of all people, would be able to teach her something.
Rating: PG
Characters: Ginny Weasley, Dennis Creevey
Pairings: Pretty Gen
Summary: Dennis confronts Ginny on their first day back at Hogwarts
Prompt: 006. Accusations from Quill It
“You killed him, you know?”
Ginny blinked three times at the boy in front of her, not fully comprehending the words coming out of his mouth. It was her first night back at Hogwarts, where she still felt a bit on edge, even if Snape was dead and the Carrows were both rotting away in Azkaban. The last thing she needed was an unfounded accusation that made her feel a slimy sensation crawl down her spine and settle resolutely on the small of her back. She decided the best thing would be to remain silent, and see if Dennis Creevey had an explanation.
“He died protecting you, didn’t he?”
It was true, really. She’d run outside the castle chasing after Yaxley, her mind so singularly focused on killing the man in front of her that she hadn’t noticed the stray spell flying at her from her left side. Colin had, and he’d jumped in front of her as a defensive measure. It was a split second decision; one Ginny knew only a true Gryffindor would have had no trouble making. She hadn’t had the time to rush to his side and see if he’d survived the hex. Yaxley was finally losing his advantage, and she had to get rid of him while she had the chance. She had attended the funeral given two days later, and cried over the grave of the young fallen soldier. It hadn’t been enough, she knew that, but she wasn’t expecting this.
“How could you just let him take the bullet for you?”
She knew what a bullet was, of course-if not from Muggle Studies in her fifth year, then from the Westerns Harry and Hermione often made her watch. She just couldn’t comprehend why Dennis was doing this. The confusion must have shown on her face, because the younger boy was speaking again.
“Why didn’t you protect him?”
Now that was just bloody ridiculous. She stared him down as she pulled out her wand and held it inches from Dennis’ chest. Her anger flashed across her face as she threw a bat-bogey hex at him. The moment he hit the ground, she lowered her wand and gathered her composure.
“Your brother was a hero,” she said, her voice cold and her eyes hard, “It would be best for you if you’d remember that, and stop ruining his name with accusations that have no place in Gryffindor.” As Dennis cleaned off his face, only to find that more of the critters continued to flap their wings against his eyelids, she said, “If you’re looking for someone to take the blame, you’re looking at the wrong girl. I have enough blood on my hands.”
They didn’t talk about it. None of the Weasleys compared body counts or injuries or scars. It had been War, and they’d done what was necessary to win. But the empty eyes of the people she killed still haunted her dreams, and Harry wasn’t the only one who woke up in the middle of the night screaming. Yaxley, Miles Bletchey, and three snatchers she didn’t know the names of and no one had been able to identify. She wondered, when she learned the bodies had gone unclaimed, if they were orphans, like Harry, who simply didn’t have anyone to guide them. It was all so bloody pathetic. She thought winning the War would change the world, but evil people still roamed free, and innocent children were still dead.
Dennis didn’t say anything-he couldn’t, with the bat bogeys flapping angrily against him. Ginny eyed him warily for another minute before she decided he’d had enough. She muttered the counter-curse and helped him up before cleaning the cuts from his face with a flick of her wand. “I know it hurts,” she told him, as she walked him to the stairs that led to the boys’ dormitories. “Believe me, I don’t think I’ll ever stop mourning the people I’ve lost. But you can’t diminish what your brother did by placing the blame on someone else. Connor”-and she hadn’t expected his name to be as hard to say as Fred’s, but it made sense that the “Coh” stuck to the roof of her mouth and had to be harshly hashed out and the “Ner” stumbled through her mouth like a drunken Fred at the Yule Ball-“died a hero. Take pride in that.”
Dennis nodded, his eyes belying the determined look on his face. The poor boy was hurt and scared, because this world was supposed to be the embodiment of all those muggle fairy tales he grew up with, but instead of stumbling into Cinderella and finding his Happily Ever After, he was Gretel to Connor’s Hansel, with the former lost and the latter dead. Ginny watched Dennis stumble off to bed and decided she was going to write Harry first thing in the morning. She needed someone to teach her how to handle her guilt complex, and Harry, of all people, would be able to teach her something.