kadollan | Letters Ginny Never Wrote to Neville

So, I'm finally editing my Nanowrimo novel (tentatively titled "Neville Longbottom: The Other Boy Who Also Lived" Being the tale of how Neville wasn't a hero, and didn't get the girl.) I'm telling Neville's story -- what the prophecy meant for the other boy. I'm doing my best to tell a completely canon compliant story. My theory is that the books are told from Harry's perspective, and Harry is a self-absorbed twat (not that one can totally blame him, between being a teenaged boy and having a Dark Lord in his head.) But anyway, I figure that "anything that Harry didn't directly witness, and that canon does not contradict" leaves me a lot of room to play. For instance, did you know that Ginny and Neville became very close friends after he took her to the Yule Ball? Yeah, well neither did Harry.

About half of the novel is written in letters. Letters written by Neville, talking to his Gran about school, letters written between Neville, Ginny and Luna during summers. And later, letters written during the war, that were never sent.

These are two of the latter. Ginny is back at The Burrow, after Easter of 1997. Neville is at Hogwarts, hiding in the Room of Requirement and Luna has been rescued from Malfoy Manor and is staying at Shell Cottage.

3 April 1998

Dear Neville,

Waiting around at home for the war to get on with itself is the most horrid kind of boredom there is. I feel wretched for even thinking about being bored, when I know that Harry is out there with Ron and Hermione doing Merlin knows what, and you're stuck at Hogwarts fighting the Carrows. I'm so frightened for both of you. It's like there is just so much fear and tension and dread that I can't deal with any of it, so I whine about the housework and I'm stuffing all of this emotion away in a box somewhere that I've spellotaped shut and stuffed under the proverbial bed. And I know that didn't make any sense at all and I don't care.

I want to have a giant temper tantrum and cry and scream until I'm sick with it, and then have my mum scold me and put me to bed with soup. I feel like I'm a three year old who's had too many sweeties and wants some more.

I hate this.

Neville, I have six brothers and two parents fighting in this war. What are the odds that we'll all live? I mean honestly? Counting me (and while you and Harry may not be, I sure as hell am) that's nine Weasleys and each of us with a flaming head of red hair like a target.

I am so frightened that I wonder if I could die of it.

And I'm bored.

Dammit.

-Ginny

4 April 1998

Dear Neville,

Did I ever tell you how glad I was that you took me to the Yule Ball? I bet I didn't, ungrateful brat that I am. You see, at one time, in my callow youth (and this may shock you), I used to fancy Harry. By third year it had eased up a bit-- I hadn't actually put my elbow in the butter dish because of him for ages, but I still had it pretty bad. When he and Ron couldn't get dates (the prats), Ron suddenly came up with the clever notion that he could take Hermione and Harry would take me.

And there it was .... for one shining, beautiful moment Harry was escorting me to the ball, and everyone would see how perfect we were together, and we would dance, and he would be witty and charming and clever (hey, this is my fantasy) and then he would realize that I was the only girl for him, and we would live happily ever after. As a third year, my fantasies were a bit too prim for snogging, but really all in all it was a lovely notion.

And then I remembered that you had already asked me. And I had already accepted. So I told Harry and Ron that I already had an escort and went upstairs to cry (I'm so sorry -- I know that sounds awful, but I wanted it to be Harry SO badly. I know I wasn't your first choice either, and that you didn't have feelings for me or anything, but even so, I felt guilty for how miserable I felt. Which is one of those problems that only makes itself worse.)

But then the big day came, and you were waiting for me in the common room and you looked so adorable, and I decided, Ginevra Molly Weasley, you are not going to make yourself and this boy have a terrible evening because you're whining over what might have been. So I sucked it up, and then you were completely gallant. A terrible dancer, mind you, but you were charming, and witty and clever.... and you maneuvered us out of a nasty scene with Malfoy (and you managed to impress Fred and George, by the way, which is no small thing.) The best part was that you were telling Malfoy to back off because of the damage that *I* would do if he didn't.

Do you know that you may be the first person to ever take me seriously?

I was watching Harry, while we were in the Great Hall (and I saw you watch Hermione being swept off her feet by her Quidditch star, so I didn't feel terribly guilty about it) and he was an absolutely terrible date. He ignored Parvati the entire evening, because he couldn't keep his eyes off of Cho. Now, I am no one to throw stones at ridiculous crushes, but, honestly. If that had been my first date with Harry, it also would have been my last. I don't think that I ever would have forgiven him.

So, thank you for taking me to the Ball, Neville. You were wonderful, and it was the best possible first date I could have had.

Love from,

Ginny