Title: What Bravery Is
Disclaimer: No, not mine. Not ever.
The first time Amycus Carrow nailed her hands to her desk, she screamed. She had refused to hex a Hufflepuff Second Year…a little twelve-year-old boy, small and blond and shaking in fear.
He'd forgotten his homework.
That was his offense.
Horrified, Lavender had mouthed a 'no', unable to tear her eyes away from the little boy or even find her voice to speak. Carrow had snarled, waved his wand, and Lavender's hands were seized from where she had them clenched in her lap, forced against the surface of her desk, conjured iron spikes driving through flesh and crushing delicate bone before burying themselves deep into the wood surface.
The whole class had frozen into a tableau, the rest of the students round eyed in terror and astonishment. In pale-faced shock, she had stared at her hands in silence for a long moment before the pain wove through her nerves and finally registered. And then she had screamed, a long, terrible, wounded cry that echoed in the deathly quiet classroom.
Lavender had cried quietly throughout the rest of class, too terrified to make any more of a fuss. Seamus was sitting behind her, his hand stroking her back in a silent attempt at comfort.
When class was dismissed, Carrow left her there, nailed to her desk. Parvati had had to hold her still while Seamus pulled out the nails, his own hands shaking a little as he did so.
The blood stained her desk, and every day Lavender stared at the dark red stain and prayed with all she had that Carrow would not call on her, that she would not have to keep herself from crying in fear as she refused to raise her wand, that she would not have to stifle her scream and muffle her sobs to silent tears. That was all she could do. She did not have the strength for more, and she was ashamed.
As she sat in class, hands pinned down and silent tears streaming down her cheeks, she wished she was the real sort of Gryffindor, the kind that would do something more than silently shake her head, place her hands on her desk and wait for her punishment. She wanted to act like the Gryffindor she was, to be brave.
That was what Neville did, scornfully baiting Carrow with clever words until the Death Eater furiously shot hexes at him.
That was what Parvati did, playing both the eager student and the dunce, to fool Carrow and waste time with her failed attempts, keeping those more enthusiastic about their lessons from having a go.
That was what Seamus did, casually leaning back in his chair as though he hadn't a care in that world, carelessly declining Carrow's demand with a wave of his hand as though the Death Eater were offering him a biscuit at a pleasant tea.
They were real Gryffindors, but she was only Lavender Brown, and so she sat, hot tears streaming down her cheeks and hotter blood dripping down onto her knees.