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One.
Louis knew he needed to tell his family the truth, and that he needed to do it soon. He was sick of the lies, the excuses, the boring dates. He finally decided to reveal the secret to his direct family during one of their Saturday dinners (his parents could deal with the extended family however they liked).
Except he ended up putting it off: first there was Christmas and he couldn't tell them at Christmas because it was a time for celebration, then there was New Year's and it was probably bad luck to reveal secrets at the end of the year (and he was a bit drunk by the time he remembered his decision, but sober enough to know he needed a clear head), then there was Dominique's birthday and he couldn't interfere with her big day, then there was an empty block of time waiting for him to ruin his parents' dreams. That was a horrible phrase, he thought, but it was probably true.
On the second Saturday following Dominique's birthday, Louis brought his mother a bouquet of assorted flowers to soften the blow. They looked beautiful in the middle of the dining room table and took the double duty of blocking Louis' view of his father. When they finished eating, he decided to take the high road and moved the flowers to a stool in the corner. He couldn't chicken out, not with this, not yet again.
Louis cleared his throat. Everyone—Maman, Papa, Victoire, Dominique—looked at him, and he tried not to feel like the world was crushing down on him. He refused to be dramatic about this.
"I have something to tell you..." he began, thinking that coming out of the closet was such a cliché.
Two.
Hogwarts, seventh year.
"And the he did that thing with his tongue, you know— Merlin, it was amazing. Mate, are you listening?" Jacob Hornby, Louis' best friend, asked. He was laying on Louis' bed while Louis was at his desk, working on an essay, and he poked Louis with his wand. "I'm talking about the greatest moment of my life here."
"Getting a blowjob from Nickelson was the best moment of your life?" Louis asked, snorting.
Hornby sat up. "Yes, it was. What about you and Candice?"
Louis shrugged. "It was pretty awkward."
"Sorry, mate. Did she use teeth?"
"No, it wasn't that." He waited, but Hornby didn't take the bait. Louis wasn't sure if he wanted him to. "Was it fun?"
"Course it was."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Yeah. What's brought this on?"
Louis picked at his feather quill. "I think I'm going to break up with her. I'm not— I'm not interested in girls."
Hornby patted his back. "Welcome to the dark side, my friend."
Except, that wasn't really it.
Three.
"It's hard for me to say this—" his hands were shaking under the table and Merlin if his voice shook he would just never go outside again "—but I'm not interested in women." He looked at his mother, who, bless her, didn't look very shocked. "It would be great if you could stop pushing me to date the daughters of your friends."
And awkward silence didn't form. Louis almost regretted it.
"Pay up," Victoire said with a grin, stretching her hand to Dominique. Dominique scowled, searched her robe pockets, and dropped a Sickle into Victoire's hand.
Dominique glared at Louis and looked longingly at her wine glass. Louis hoped she didn't mean to throw it at him. "Why couldn't you have been straight?" She sighed and threw a Sickle to him, too. "Probability says you would've likely been straight."
There was never a good time to discover one's sisters bet on one's sexuality. Louis palmed his forehead. "I'm just not, damn your probability." Then a thought came and he looked at Victoire, horrified. "When did you make this bet?"
"When you were ten." She was smug. Louis wondered if his parents would forgive him if he cursed her, but his mother gave a short shake of her head.
"Is this why you tried to make me play with dolls?"
Victoire just smirked.
"That wouldn't have made me gay, just made fun of by other boys. Right, fine, now that dinner's over, I'm just going to—"
"Sit down, Louis, please," his father said, and Louis complied, not looking at him. He waited for Bill to say something, but his mother spoke instead.
"I have been worried since you are very pretty that 'ou like ze boys, oui."
"It doesn't work like that either, Maman."
Fleur waved his retort away. "Eeet ez well, Louis. I could not find a good French homme for the girls…" She gave them each a glare. Dominique lifted up a brow, Victoire looked away. "But I will find you a nice French husband, Louis."
"What? No, Maman! I'm not gay!"
This time, an awkward silence did form.
"What are you trying to tell us?" Bill asked. His voice was gentle.
Four.
Being a teenager was a mess. Louis really couldn't recommend it to anyone.
It was frustrating enough trying to figure out what the hell he wanted to do with his life. He didn't need or want other problems, too.
Even if on the surface, not wanting to fuck anyone didn't seem like a problem. The Delacour-Weasleys were the only Weasley branch whose kids had never had a pregnancy scare, something his mother was terribly smug about when the topic was brought up. Louis especially didn't have the problem; at age seventeen he was still trying to figure out why the hell anyone even wanted to do the romance and sex thing at all.
The rest of the world seemed to be into it, though, so for a long time Louis just put up and shut up. He dated. He had sex with a guy twice to see if he was just gay. He wondered if maybe he just didn't want to be a guy—maybe it was his body messing things up for him. Teddy did like to say he preferred sex as a girl. A couple potions trials later, he decided he was definitely a guy. Just one who didn't like sex. Okay.
It wasn't that easy. It never was. But years down the line, he was a grown man. He knew himself. It was time to get his family on the same page.
Five.
"... I mean, I'm just not...interested. In anyone. Okay? And I'm not going to be. That's why I'd very much appreciate if you stopped setting me up with Victoire and Dominique's entire social circle."
Victoire blew a ring of smoke into Louis's face. "I always knew you were weird. But it's fine, whatever."
"I'm going to murder you later," he muttered.
Fleur swished her glass of wine. "Louis, you have ze sexual problem? Your grandmozzer—not Molly—might have a cure for zat."
"No, Maman, I'm not—I don't have a problem with the way I am. It's just me. I just need you to accept this."
"Are you all right, Louis?" Bill asked.
"Yeah, Dad. I'm fine."
"Then we'll just have to get used to it," Dominique chimed in.
Six.
Later, his father pulled Louis aside. "I still care for you. Very much. You're my son."
"As much as you care for the Harpies' chances this season? Because they're going to get slaughtered!" Louis joked.
"They're going to win the World Cup, you mean," Bill said, and they both laughed and headed back to the kitchen. Louis finally breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was fine.