After dinner, Mr. Weasley took Colin, Luna, and Orla home while Mrs. Weasley cleared the table. Ginny wandered into the living room. Gabrielle was talking to Fleur in French, and Ginny wasn't feeling very social right now.
She flopped down on the ratty old sofa, feeling slightly sick. She couldn't help replaying the day's events in her head, wondering if she should have told her friends. Now that she thought about it, it didn't seem like a very good idea and part of her was glad she hadn't managed it. But part of her had been prepared to take the leap and felt disappointed that she hadn't, and part of her just wanted to tell them and be done with it.
Before, she had been too preoccupied with Hermione and her family to give all that much thought to what her friends might think. The school in general, yes, but not specific people. But now… now she found that she had to go through the whole 'worrying about telling everybody' stage yet again. Which was discouraging, to say the least.
"Ginny."
She looked up and saw Charlie standing in the doorway. "Yeah?"
Charlie sighed and walked over to her. "You haven't told your friends yet, have you?"
Ginny winced slightly at the statement and shook her head.
"You never know, but I really don't think they'd take a contract out on you if you did tell them."
"But you never know," Ginny replied, feeling a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Charlie could almost always cheer her up. The twins pulled pranks, which were funny, though sometimes annoying; Bill always knew how to have a good time and party; Ron had taught her to play chess and always wanted to protect her; Percy … Percy had always been able to help with homework and telling you how the rules were supposed to work; but Charlie could always make her laugh, even in the most dour of circumstances. It wasn't even what he said – it was how he said it.
Now Charlie reached out to ruffle her hair, and had it been anyone else she would have curtly informed them that she was 15 not five, thank-you-very-much. But right now, she found herself wanting very much for Charlie to let her be five years old again. When she was five, she had never had to worry about her friends rejecting her or her mother never speaking to her again. When she was five, she could just look up at the grown-ups around her and know in the very depths of her heart that they would make everything okay.
But she knew better now. She had seen her parents afraid, had seen trusted grown-ups turn out to be evil – like Mad-Eye Moody, who was actually Barty Crouch – and had found that all the heroes and teachers at Hogwarts hadn't been able to protect anyone from the Basilisk. She had seen that adults could lie and be tricked and hurt or hurt you just like anyone else. She had seen that there were limits even to Dumbledore's vast accumulation of knowledge and had learned that even her own brother could betray his family for no reason at all. Professor Umbridge ought to be enough proof that adults could not simply be trusted. And as if her faith in adults hadn't been shattered enough by now, her own mother wasn't even speaking to her anymore – simply because Ginny had told her a truth she hadn't liked.
For a moment, feeling Charlie's hand in her hair, seeing his strong, familiar face made her wish she could go back to that innocence and simplicity. Then he smiled and got up.
"You should come visit me in Romania some time," he said.
"Oh?"
He nodded. "I can think of three lesbian Dragon Trainers right off. For some reason, the profession seems to attract lesbian women. And straight guys who are more interested in the lesbian women than in the dragons – the scaly, fire-breathing, winged ones, that is. But those guys don't last long."
"Kind of odd that so many lesbians would decide to spend the rest of their lives taking care of dragons," Ginny commented with a grin.
"Well, there are also a substantial number of lesbian Quidditch players who ride around on broomsticks all day." Charlie shrugged. "But I'm going back into the kitchen before Mum hears us. I really don't think she's in the mood to be tolerant. And you should probably go up to bed."
Ginny nodded and stood up, waiting until Charlie had returned to the kitchen before making her way upstairs in a slightly better mood. Of course, she still had no idea whether or not she should come out to her friends and her mother still hated her, but at least she had the rest of her family supporting her.
The next day, Bill took Fleur and her parents sightseeing, though Gabrielle decided to stay at the Burrow. Charlie and Arthur had to go to work, which left only Molly and the five teenagers in the house. It was a nice day outside – sunny, but not too hot, at least in the shade.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=
They all ate lunch outside in the garden. Hermione spent the entire meal pestering Harry and Ron about their as-yet unfinished homework.
"What on Earth were you doing all that time you spent at the Dursleys?" Hermione asked Harry in irritation.
"Er… not my homework."
"So I'd gathered," Hermione snapped. "You have less than a week left until school starts. Exactly when are you planning on finishing your homework?"
Harry shrugged. "Later?"
"Be glad we've started it," Ron said through his sandwich.
"But you haven't worked on it at all since you started it," Hermione pointed out.
"We only started it day before yesterday," Ron protested. "What do you want from us?"
"Finished homework. You have six days – six days – to finish an entire summer's worth of homework."
Hermione turned to Ginny in exasperation. "Have you done you're homework yet?"
Ginny, who had been listening to Hermione and Ron's exchange with amusement, shrugged. "Most of it."
Molly watched her daughter guiltily out of the corner of her eye, wondering how anyone who could smile and talk with her friends the way Ginny was, and play board games and generally act so normal could be … lesbian. And wondering how everyone else could simply accept it and move on. Everyone but Molly.
Hermione's looked back at her friends. "See? She can do it."
"Yeah, but she's a girl," Ron pointed out. "And girls always do their homework. Sugar and spice and all that."
"But that doesn't mean you can't try…." Hermione looked at her friends and shook her head. "I wish you two would devote more time to studying."
"Oh, lay off will you?" Ron said. "It's summer."
"Yeah, it's not like we'll be young and stupid forever."
Ron nodded vigorously in agreement. "We have to seize the moment."
Hermione snorted. "Well, you're right about the young thing. But I'm pretty sure you'll be stupid forever."
"Thanks for your vote of confidence," Ron said, making a face at her.
"My pleasure," Hermione said, smiling sweetly, and turned to Gabrielle. "Do you have any homework?"
"Yes."
"Have you finished it yet?" she asked.
"No."
"Have you started it?"
"Yes."
Hermione looked at Gabrielle for a moment, then asked, "So … what's school like in France?"
"We learn," Gabrielle replied.
"Right. What do you learn?" Hermione tried again.
"Magic," Gabrielle informed her, taking another bite out of her sandwich.
"And ... what are the classes like?"
"Magical."
"Uh... other than that...?"
"Well let's see. There are teachers," Gabrielle said, a slight smile playing around her lips. "And students. And classrooms and homework."
"So ... how many days of school do you have?"
"Way too many."
Ron laughed at that and Molly suppressed a smile. It was hard to dislike Gabrielle, much though Molly wished she could. It was hard to remember that Gabrielle was part veela and had seduced her youngest daughter when the girl was sitting across from her and not answering Hermione's questions. And smiling at Ginny; she was always smiling at Ginny, if only with her eyes. And Ginny was always looking at her. How could Molly not have noticed it?
"What do they teach you?" Hermione asked.
Gabrielle smiled. "They teach us to be pretty and French and eat Muggles. And squibs... squibs are good with jam."
"What about blond pureblood gits?" Ron asked, perking up. "Who spend way too much time on their hair, just happen to be in Slytherin, and suck up to Snape all the time?
"We don't eat purebloods," Gabrielle informed him.
"Fuck," said Ron.
"Language!" Molly snapped, feeling less tolerant of swearing than usual. Ron just rolled his eyes, which Molly found irrationally annoying – he was 16; of course he was rolling his eyes at her.
"Yes, we do generally fuck the purebloods," Gabrielle said. "And they do taste good…. Much better than the mudbloods," she added with a sidelong glance at Ginny.
Okay, now Molly could hate Gabrielle. She cleared her throat, firmly suppressing the urge to scream at Gabrielle for everything she's done to corrupt Ginny. Gabrielle went back to her sandwich, unaware of Molly's anger.
"What about greasy, slimy gits who teach potions?" Ron asked. "Do they taste good?"
"Our Potions teacher is wonderful," Gabrielle said.
"Oh?"
"Yes. She's quite pretty and she's very nice. Almost as nice as the Divination teacher, but much prettier."
Molly almost choked on her sandwich. She.
"What's she look like?" Ginny asked, sounding far too interested.
"Which one?"
"Both."
Molly closed her eyes. She really didn't want to hear this.
"Well, the Potions teacher—Professor D'Aubigne—has really long, beautiful brown hair. The Divination teacher has black hair, and she's even shorter than most of the kids in our class. But everyone respects her because she'll kill you if you don't." Gabrielle smiled fondly and Molly stared fixedly at her plate. "Everyone wants Professor D'Aubigne to get together with the Quidditch coach. I think because both they're both single and nice and good-looking. But Monsieur Douay--the Quidditch coach--won't ask her out. Some of my friends think he's too shy, and a few students have even tried to set them up, but it's never worked. And according to one of my friends, Monsieur Douay is actually gay and that's why he won't ask her out, but we've never asked."
And I'll bet this is all his fault, Molly thought. Then realized just how dumb that was – she didn't even know that he was gay, and even if he were, Ginny had never even met him. A few weeks ago, she would have been perfectly happy to have her daughter have a homosexual teacher or friend. But a week ago, her daughter hadn't been homosexual herself. Now she was groping out for anyone else to blame for her failure; but Ginny was her daughter, her responsibility, and she had no one to blame but herself.
"Anyway," Gabrielle continued. "The Divination teacher also conducts the choir. She has a beautiful singing voice."
"Are you in the choir?" Hermione asked.
Gabrielle shook her head "No, but a friend of mine is and she says it's a lot of fun. Of course, she also thinks trying to set up the teachers and raising grindylows is fun, so who knows. When we were little, she used to go around singing this song about a little lost grindylow to annoy people and she tried to keep one as a pet during our first year at Beauxbatons. But then the Divination teacher found it and killed it, and gave her this lecture about how grindylows are dangerous Dark Creatures."
"Your friend sounds like Hagrid," Ron muttered.
"She says that there is no such thing as an evil or good thing. There is good in everything – you just have to look a little harder to find it in some things than in others."
"I don't suppose she's part Giant, is she?" Ron asked.
Gabrielle blinked in surprise. "No."
"Just checking."
After they finished lunch, Hermione managed to persuade everyone to finish their homework – if 'Do it or I'll hex you' counts as persuading – and Molly started working in her garden, trying not to think about the way Ginny had looked at Gabrielle.
A/N: Outlaw of the West: Hehee... glad people liked the game. :P Keep going... right... I think I can manage that. Silver-nex: Thanks. Is this a quick enough update for you? Kashiaga: Thanks :D
And Orange: Thanks for helping me brainstorm the dialogue and, of course, editing it.