Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Alright, here we go, all done.”

Ron hovers the last dish down onto the table, takes off his apron, and sits down opposite Ginny, already pulling a steaming dish of vegetables towards him as he puts down his wand.

Only years of elbowing various brothers out the way to get a mouthful of food has Ginny automatically reaching for a dish too – she can’t quite believe her eyes.

The kitchen is warm and homely as the day begins to fade, the rosy light of sunset streaming through the window and reflecting off of the glasses and bottles of butterbeer that Ginny had brought over. More for the nostalgia than anything. None of them drink it much anymore.

And next to the butterbeer at the end of the table is a rich, double-layered chocolate cake, covered in icing, with other dishes peppering the table, hot and steaming and smelling amazing after her long journey.

She lets out a snort as Ron piles his plate higher and higher. “My brother the househusband. You have remembered to leave some food for Hermione, right? That is the whole idea.”

Ron frowns. “I’m not a househusband…I mean this is our house, and I am her husband now, but Hermione made this muggle chore wheel thing, and cooking is a lot nicer than cleaning out the drain, I’m telling you. Plus, now I can cook, we always have cake in the house. You should try it too, it won’t turn you into Mum or anything if that’s what’s stopping you.”

He shoves more sausage into his mouth and pulls his legs out of the way as she tries to kick him under the table. Fast reflexes. Must be all the auror training.

She flicks a pea at him instead, laughing as it bounces off his forehead. He doesn’t retaliate, just swallows and smiles at her. It’s these little things that remind her how much they’ve grown up; sometimes she’s away from home so long with the team that she forgets everyone else’s lives move on too. Which reminds her.

“Bill says hi, by the way. I had to wait around for a portkey in Egypt this time, we managed to fit a drink in.”

“Oh yeah? How’s he doing? Did he talk to you about uh…you know what?”

Ginny huffs, taking a mouthful of butterbeer. “He didn’t exactly say much. But come on. It’s Bill. It was more about what he wasn’t saying. Just kept going on and on about work and travelling but…not the fun stuff. It’s like Greyback all over again, the light in his eyes was just…gone. It was…” she shakes her head. “Well, you remember how he was at the beginning. I can’t believe she did this to him! What a bitch. I always told you, I told everyone she was bad news, right from the start!”

Ron looks across at her, frowning in concern. “He’s really that bad? Do you think I should go visit? I can take some time off, most of the Death Eater supporters have been rounded up now, I’m mostly sat on my arse doing paperwork as it is, I could do with some sunshine.”

Ginny smiles softly at him and reaches over to take his hand. “He’s doing alright, Ron. I think he just needs some time.” She lets out a chuckle. “And you definitely don’t need any sunshine. Remember the last time we went to Egypt? You were peeling for a week. I don’t think I’ve seen anything that red since. You were giving the common room a run for its galleons.”

He lets out a laugh. “Don’t remind me! I think I still have some scars on my back from trying to scratch at that. Merlin, it was like dragonpox.”

Ginny laughs back. “You never had dragonpox, moron, that was the twins. They drove mum mad, she had to lock us all in our rooms for days so they would stay in bed and not spread it around. Can you- can you remember when- Merlin! She tried to send Errol through the- the window with breakfast?”

They’re laughing hysterically now, Ron gasping for breath along with her. “There were eggs and feathers all over the room. Bloody hell, I forgot that. All I remember about sharing with you was that we almost killed each other half the time. I still expect a bat-bogey hex to hit me in the face every time I leave stuff on Hermione’s side of the room. You witches are scary!”

“Ronald Weasley, are you talking about me?” A voice calls from the other room. They must have been laughing so hard they didn’t hear the floo.

Ginny wipes some tears out of her eyes and stands up to meet Hermione as she comes through the doorway, leaning over the pile of scrolls in her arms to wrap an arm around her.

“Hey Hermione, what has you working so late? Those scrolls better be for tomorrow, there’s a butterbeer here with your name on it.”

“Ginny! When did you get in? I wasn’t sure what time the portkey was.”

Ginny shrugs and sits back down. “There was a mix up, as usual. Got to catch up with Bill though, so it wasn’t too bad. Phlegm has really done a number on him with this divorce.” She takes a gulp of butterbeer.

Hermione drops all the scrolls on the kitchen counter and starts rooting around in a cupboard with an exaggerated sigh.

“For Godric’s sake, Ginny, I thought we were past this. I’m going to need something a lot stronger than butterbeer to get through this evening if you’re still obsessed with the witch after eight years! Accio firewhisky!”

What?! Butterbeer spews across the table as Ginny coughs and splutters.

“Ew, Ginny, the food. Careful,” Ron whines.

She finally manages to stop coughing and turns to gape at Hermione, who has sat down at the head of the table, wand drawn and pouring herself a generous glass of firewhisky.

“Obsessed? I’m not obsessed with her, I never was! She’s just a stuck-up cow that got her claws into Bill for his good looks and turned her nose up at the rest of us.”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “Ginny, please. I went along with it for long enough when we were kids, you don’t have to hide your crush on her anymore. We’ve told you, we’re proud of you. You can like whoever you like, we won’t judge. She’s pretty, I get it.”

“What?!” Ginny finds herself on her feet, staring down at Hermione in complete bafflement.

Hermione looks back at her calmly, a knowing smirk on her face.

She turns to Ron instead. “Your wife’s gone barmy. I think a trip to St Mungo’s might be in order, she’s Lestrange levels of cuckoo if she thinks I ever had a crush on that witch...uh, sorry Hermione.”

She cringes. She didn’t mean to bring up Bellatrix. It’s still a bit of a sore subject. She brings her eyes back to Hermione guiltily, sinking into her chair.

“Oh Ginny it’s fine! I’ve told you, we can’t all go around censoring ourselves all the time, we’ve been through so much we’d hardly be able to say anything. There’d be too many elephants in the room.”

Elephants? She frowns at Hermione.

“Oh, she means hippogriffs. It’s a muggle thing,” Ron butts in, pulling out his wand and muttering a wingardium leviosa. A plate of food glides from the oven to sit in front of Hermione and he squeezes his wife’s hand. “Saved you some. We’re quite the pair with me eating everything and you forgetting to eat all the time. Thought I’d hide a plate away just in case.”

She smiles at him gratefully and Ginny studies Hermione more closely. There are dark circles under her eyes. So she has been working too hard.

She’s just about to open her mouth and scold her for it when Ron looks across at Ginny with a grin. “So. You and Fleur. Spill. Hermione is never wrong about this stuff, she’s way too smart. And to think you used to make fun of me for drooling all over her, it’s payback time, Gin.”

Ginny leans back in her seat, tipping her chair and folding her arms. “There is nothing to spill. I haven’t even seen her since the war except at family gatherings, same as you. I’m just angry at her for toying with Bill like that, aren’t you?”

Ron shrugs. “People break up, look at you and Harry, people change. You don’t think he was toying with you, do you?”

“Well no, that’s different! We were kids living through a war. And he was my first crush! We had no idea what we were doing. He’s one of my closest friends, you know that.”

Ron grins. “Exactly, you got together young during the war and it didn’t work out. Same as Bill and Fleur. She was what, twenty, when she got married? Younger than we are now. No, that’s not the reason you’re angry at her. Checkmate, Ginny.”

Checkmate? Is he barmy too? And she’d thought he was the strategist. She’d given in years ago and talked through some quidditch strategies with him. He isn’t one to be fooled by a feint, wronski or not. Maybe he just trusts Hermione too much for his own good.

“Is this just because she’s part Veela and I like witches? Because I thought you two were smart enough to understand that I don’t automatically fancy every witch I see, that’s not how it works.”

Hermione puts down her cutlery and leans over to stroke her arm, looking into her eyes sadly. “Oh, I’m sorry Ginny. Of course we don’t think that. I hadn’t realised you didn’t know! Honestly! I thought you were just embarrassed and acting out. Just…really think about that summer, back before their wedding. Can you really not see it?”

Ginny frowns into her softening almond eyes. See what?

Hermione sighs. “Take your time. We have a pensieve if it will help, I think you might need to go over a few things. Oh, we could draw a timeline! Maybe that will jog your memory. Although studies have shown that visual stimuli are the most powerful in memory reconstruction…other than smell, but that is more circumstantial, and largely unpredictable…”

She continues on and on as usual. Sometimes it’s best to let Hermione talk herself out rather than interrupt. Instead Ginny’s eyes slide to Ron. This is a joke, right?

Her brother continues eating, not paying her any attention at all. She shoves some potatoes in her mouth with a huff. Fine. They’re both idiots anyway.

Soon though, Hermione seems to have worked herself into a bit of a loop, and trails off somewhat embarrassedly. Now the only sound is cutlery against plates, and Ron finally lifts his head to look her over critically. “She arrived from France on a Friday, if that helps. We were out de-gnoming the garden like every week…”

Oh yeah…

Ginny wipes her brow and curses to herself under her breath for what feels like the millionth time today. Merlin’s balls it’s hot. In fact…she stands up straight, stretching out her arms and rolling her shoulders, squinting towards the house. Only Ron’s around. Mum must still be cleaning upstairs.

“Merlin’s balls and Morgana’s tits, it is bloody boiling out here,” she grumbles aloud, turning to grin at Ron as he looks up at her from amongst the courgette plants.

“I do not think this language is appropriate for a little girl, non? My Gabrielle would never say these things. You must stop this before you meet her next year.”

Wait wait wait. Next year?

Ginny frowns at Ron and Hermione across the kitchen table.

“That wasn’t the summer before the wedding. That was the one before, remember? She stayed for a whole year to improve her English and drove us all bonkers.

Hermione sighs. “See, this is why we need a timeline, it was all so long ago. It’s been nine years, then. Well, go on, let’s get your love story back on track. I love a good meet-cute,” Hermione smirks. Ron lets out a chuckle.

Ginny flicks her wand out of her sleeve, sending a jinx her way, which Hermione doesn’t quite block in time, her legs flailing and kicking at the table until she can mutter out the counter jinx.

“Dancing-Legs jinx? Really, Ginny? How old are you?”

Ginny sniggers at her. “Serves you right. You’ve been watching too many of those romantic flims.”

“Films! How many times…”

“And it wasn’t a meet-cute. We’d already met at Hogwarts anyway, for the tournament, so it wouldn’t count anyway.”

“Sure, Ginny, you keep telling yourself that.”

So. They’d been in the garden…

Ginny whirls around at the haughty voice, folding her arms and glaring at the witch in front of her. Who does she think she is, standing there in her tailored robes and looking at Ginny like she’s some little kid caught with a hand in the floo powder?

“I can say what I want in my own bloody house, your highness. Your darling sister can put cheese in her ears if my language is so offensive to her.”

The woman lets out an outraged gasp and turns around. “William! Come and talk to your sister, she is being very impolite to me!”

Bill!

Ginny pushes past the woman with a grin, throwing herself at her eldest brother, who catches her with ease, spinning her around just as he has since she can remember. “Bill, you’re home! It’s been ages! Why did you go away to France just when we got back for the summer?”

When he puts her down, she pulls him into a hug, breathing him in. He smells like childhood, and for a moment she lets herself fall into memories of a more peaceful time. There’s talk of war brewing, and she’s not going to run from the fight, but sometimes she can’t help wanting to shut her eyes and wish it all away.

“I missed you too, Gin. And it sounds like you’re being as mischievous as ever. I’d like it if you could be nice to Fleur though, she’ll be family soon enough.”

Ugh. There the witch goes, ruining everything. It’s bad enough that she’ll be staying for a whole year, now she can’t even have one second with her favourite brother.

She pulls back, ready to tell him just how perfect his precious Fleur is…and then she sees how happy he looks. Bill always looks happy, but his eyes hold such a twinkle when he looks over at Fleur that if she didn’t know better she’d think he was Dumbledore in disguise. Or polyjuiced.

Oh Merlin, she’d already forgotten the security drills dad taught her. “It is you, right?” she mumbles into his chest. “What did you get me for my birthday when I was seven?”

He chuckles. “A quaffle. I told mum it was so you could play catch by yourself in the garden…which was kind of true. But it was really so you could start your quidditch training early. I’d spotted you sneaking out to the broom shed a couple of times. Traded a spare one from a mate.

She pulls away with a grin, turning from him and shielding her eyes from the sun. Ron is waving them over.

“Hey Bill! Give us a hand with these gnomes, would ya? I don’t know how they keep getting back in, but they do, and it’s a pain in the arse catching them without magic.”

Bill jogs over, clapping Ron on the back and pulling out his wand. “Oh I remember. I’ll show you this new spell we’ve been working on and then we can go set up some wards. Then nothing will be getting in.”

Cool! Warding spells would definitely come in handy. Maybe she could put one on her room when no-one’s looking…

“Perhaps Ginny should show me the house if she is no help out here. Come, little girl, you can carry my bag.”

Ginny whirls to face Fleur. Carry her—

She fumes at the woman, who is holding out a bag for her to take. It’s probably dragonskin and costs more than their whole house from the way she’s looking down her nose at Ginny’s muddy hands. She’s no better than a Malfoy, what does her brother see in her? She might fool Ron with her Veela charms, but Bill?

An unlucky gnome chooses that moment to poke its head out from behind a bush, and Ginny swiftly kicks it right in the head. Hard. It sails through the air and over the hedge with a screech.

Everyone watches it silently.

Then Ginny turns back, yanking the bag out of Fleur’s hand. “Who says I’m no help without magic? But I am getting hot out here. I’ll show you to the kitchen. Mum can do what she wants with you from there.”

Bill clears his throat at her and she ducks her head guiltily. He’s never looked disappointed in her before. Ever. She sighs. “And I’m sure you’re hot and thirsty too after your journey,” she grits out.

She looks up at him and he smiles his approval. Now she’s gonna have to either avoid being around him when Fleur’s there or be all nicey-nice.

She kicks at the ground and scuffs her way across the garden towards the back door.

“Well. I hope you have more than just tea to drink. You English are so obsessed, you cannot escape it. It is impossible to find a good cup of coffee since I arrive.”

Ginny looks up with a scowl. “Has been impossible. Since you arrive-d. Past tense. And I don’t see why you’d want a coffee anyway in this heat. We have water, maybe some orange juice if you’re lucky and no-one’s finished it yet. You can’t be so picky with this many people around, you know. Get used to liking what you get, princess.”

The woman next to her frowns, mouthing something to herself, and then tuts, pulling her wand from her robes and waving it over Ginny, who shivers as a blast of cold air hits her and settles over her skin. “A cooling charm. Why nobody has thought of this, I cannot imagine. Back in France it is common to use everyday on the children before school, especially in the south of the France.”

She is not a child! If the witch calls her a child one more time Ginny might have to literally strip naked and point out the obvious. Luckily they’ve reached the kitchen though, and she can get as far away from her as possible.

She toes her muddy shoes off and walks in, throwing Fleur’s bag down none too gently, which she’s happy to hear earns her an almost growl.

“Mum! Bill and Fleur are here! I’m gonna go make sure their rooms are ready!”

She can see her mum coming out of the scullery, but she quickly races up the stairs before she can say anything. Maybe she can keep out of everyone’s way over the next few days, at least until Hermione or Harry gets here.

She makes it to her room and flops on the bed, kicking her legs and thumping her hands into the pillow to let her frustration out. And then she sags.

She does feel a bit guilty still for how she’s acting. Things are tough at the minute, for everyone. Dad always looks so tired and Mum…well. Ginny’s walked in on her crying more than a few times now. She pretends she’s not, says it’s the dust, but she can see how worried she is. It was bad enough when it was just about money, but now that You Know Who is back…

And then there’s Harry to worry about. And Ron. And Hermione. Who knows what they will be up to this year? Ginny isn’t stupid. Something always happens to those three, this year won’t be any different.

She rolls over to lie on her back and looks around at her bedroom, weirdly nostalgic. It doesn’t really feel like her room anymore, not properly. Everything just looks so…childish. Out of place. Like it belongs in another world.

Her eyes slide to her Gwenog Jones picture and Wyrd Sisters poster on the wall. They wink at her and she hurriedly looks away.

What makes her feel even more guilty, is that it’s not the upcoming war that’s been on her mind recently. Or her family, or her friends. Not even quidditch, even though she pretends that’s what she’s been daydreaming about whenever anyone asks.

She’d had a lot of fun dating Dean last year. She’d liked kissing him. And she still finds herself thinking about Harry sometimes too. Boys are cute. So why…

She picks up a pillow and pushes it to her face, letting out a frustrated groan.

Maybe it’s just rubbed off on her because she has so many brothers. That has to be it. She’s always trying to compete with her brothers, be like them. That’ll be why she…

She just misses having other witches around. She hasn’t even been able to see Luna yet this summer, not really wanting to ask with all the hushed whispers and paranoid looks darkening the house.

Maybe she’s just missing her Hogwarts roommates.

That doesn’t really explain some dreams she’s been having lately though. The person doesn’t have a face, but she just knows it’s not Dean, or Harry. Not any boy at all. The person touching her is definitely a witch. And it feels so…

“Ginny, get off the bed dear, you’re filthy. How many times do I have to tell you to wash your hands when you come in from the garden? Anyway. You need to change rooms. Apparently the twins’ room is too small and dark and smells strange.”

Ginny lifts up her head to share a look with her mum. So her highness is being a bitch to everyone. At least someone else sees it too.

She gets to her feet, grumbling. “But Mum, my room’s even smaller! And where am I going to sleep?”

Her mum folds her arms at her, leaning against the doorway. “Well you could take the twins’ room whilst they’re gone, but I was thinking of offering it to Harry once he gets here. Whenever that will be, Dumbledore is being as vague as ever. And Hermione is coming to stay too, so you girls will have to share. Maybe in- in Percy’s room.”

Oh, Mum. She really needs to forget about that prat.

She pulls her mum into a hug. “Sure, Mum, I’ll switch. No problem. Maybe we can just shrink my wardrobe and swap them round, then Phlegm will have some room for her stuff.”

Her mum pulls back, wagging a finger at her. “Don’t call her that dear, it’s not kind. She’s a guest. I’m sure she’s just…tired.”

She’s glaring at Ginny, but she doesn’t look too angry really. Or very convinced.

Ginny grins and skips out of the room. Time to have a look through Perfect Percy’s drawers. There might be some blackmail material.

Chapter Text

Ginny thumps on the bathroom door with a growl. This is the third time this week!

“Fleur! Get your French arse out of there, right now. I have to pee, you’re taking forever!”

Merlin, this witch is worse than all of her housemates combined. What is she even doing in there?

She bangs on the door again, and then falls forwards as it flies open and she almost stumbles right into Fleur, catching herself on the doorway at the last second.

The witch is only wearing a towel, and Ginny pulls back, uncomfortable at the close proximity to wet skin. Pull yourself together, Ginny. What is the matter with you? You’ve seen other girls in much less in the showers after a match.

Steam billows out around them. So, she used all the hot water too. Ginny feels her stomach clench in anger as the woman folds her arms, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Well? If you would, as you say, move your English arse, the bathroom is now free.”

Ginny’s eyes narrow in challenge as she breaks out of her rage filled stupor and takes a step forwards, deliberately brushing against the other witch as she makes her way into the bathroom. “Next time just stay out of my way,” she mutters, pushing the woman out and closing the door behind her.

Then she leans back against it, a hand raised to her forehead in a grimace. What did that even mean? She needs to get out of this house. The witch is driving her mad!

She’s just…always there! It’s a living nightmare. Thank Merlin Hermione is arriving tomorrow afternoon and she’ll have someone to vent to.

About how much she hates her. She hates her she hates her she hates her.

She sighs and goes to pee and clean her teeth before bed. Tomorrow she’s gonna get up early and spend all day in the garden. Maybe she won’t even see her.

A knock comes at the door.

“Just a minute!”

Once she’s sorted, she unlocks the door, to find Bill smiling at her sadly.

“Can we talk for a sec, Gin? Maybe in Percy’s room?”

Ginny nods reluctantly and follows him out and up the stairs. “Look, whatever she said, she started it! It’s my house too. I didn’t even do anything bad this time, I swear!”

Bill sits down on the bed and pats the spot next to him. She sits.

“Look, I know you two don’t get on, and that’s fine. You can’t like everybody. But this is her home too now for the next year. I love her, I want her to feel at home here…you get that, don’t you Gin? It’s like…okay, I know you don’t have a thing for Harry anymore, but remember when he first came to stay? And he had just us, no family or anything. You wrote to me all about it. About how sad it made you that he didn’t have a real family. Well, Fleur does have a family, but they’re very far away right now. And she worries. She worries about them, she worries about us. She doesn’t show it…but that’s why she talks about her home so much. Why she makes so many comparisons, has so many opinions. Everything is so new and different for her here. She needs to be reminded of home sometimes. That she has a home.”

Oh.

But that doesn’t make sense!

“If she misses her home so much, she can just leave! Go back to France and leave us all alone! She doesn’t have to be so rude about it, she doesn’t just compare, she makes fun of us. Turns her nose up at all our English stuff. I’m not putting up with that, she doesn’t get to ruin our home just because she misses hers!”

Bill slings an arm over her shoulder. “Ginny, please, just try to see it from her point of view. For me. You don’t have to be her sister or anything. You don’t even have to be nice. Just don’t be unkind…at least when she can hear you. Please.”

Be her sister? Her nose scrunches up at the thought. Ew, never!

Ginny rests her head against Bill’s shoulder. Okay. She can do that. For him.

“You’re lucky you’re my favourite brother,” she whispers. She feels him chuckle.

Yep. She’s definitely avoiding Fleur like a Blast-Ended Skrewt tomorrow.

And so she does get up early. The next morning she’s shrugging one of Charlie’s old Christmas jumpers on and tiptoeing down the stairs, watching out for creaking wood whilst the first rays of sunlight are only just peeking through the windows.

She loves these moments of peaceful stillness, so rare at the Burrow. It has been quieter lately, she has to admit, but that’s not the same as peace. The silences are filled with so many unspoken words. She learnt long ago that you have to catch the world before it wakes up if you want some real quiet; that’s why she likes clearing her head sat high on a broom. She used to do it a lot at Hogwarts. Wake up before her housemates and sneak down to the Quidditch pitch. Fly as high as she dared and look out over the lake at the distant hills.

But first she needs a cup of tea. She’s not that much of a morning person to go without it. She chances setting the kettle to boil – it shouldn’t wake anyone, they’re too many floors up to hear it as long as she catches it before it whistles.

Whilst she waits, she stares out into the garden. Oh.

So someone else is awake. The one person she’d been trying to avoid, sat out under an apple tree in the orchard.

She isn’t doing anything in particular that Ginny can see, twirling her wand and staring into the distance. She looks small, somehow, with her knees curled up like that. The witch has such a big presence, Ginny sometimes forgets…

She sighs to herself and pulls a second mug from the cupboard, grabbing the kettle off the stove before it starts screeching at her and then heading into the pantry.

Guess she should be nice. For Bill.

She searches around, wishing she could just accio what she’s looking for. Aha!

There’s an old pot of coffee, right at the back. Probably stale by now, and not fancy enough to meet French standards…but that’s even better! Ginny can look like she’s trying to be nice whilst making the woman drink the most awful swill! That was her plan all along...right? She’s messing with her. Like the twins would.

Mind made up, she pours some of the coffee into what looks like a cafetière. She didn’t know they even had one of those! She’s not quite sure how it works…some people at school drink coffee, but Ginny never really got a taste for it, so she didn’t pay attention. From what she can remember, it’s something to do with ground beans, and water, and…

She frowns. And then grabs the pot of coffee, the cafetière and some milk and puts it on a tray. Then she makes her cup of tea and puts it on the tray too. And the kettle.

She carries everything out to Fleur, feeling a bit ridiculous, but telling herself it’s all part of her plan. Because it is. It’s a trick.

Fleur looks up at her as she walks over, frowning from her spot on the floor and unfurling her legs to lay them flat, crossed primly at the ankles.

“Hey, you’re up early. I was gonna go for a fly but thought you might want a coffee. I remembered what you said about tea so…but uh…here. I don’t know how to make one.”

She kneels down in the grass and lays the tray on the ground between them, picking up her tea and taking a sip.

Fleur pushes herself up onto her knees and looks down at the tray, picking a few things up and inspecting them. Then she laughs.

“You don’t know how to make coffee? Mon Dieu, you English! You are so backwards with everything!”

Ginny bites the inside of her cheek, sitting down and facing away towards the pond so that she doesn’t even have to look at the woman next to her.

She’s doing it for Bill. He owes her. Big time.

She exhales slowly and then turns to look at the witch next to her. “Maybe you can show me then. If you know so much about it. Without magic though, as you’ve said, I’m too young to do that yet outside Hogwarts.”

“Oh yes! You must learn. Every witch should know how to make coffee. You will have a husband too one day, I am sure, and a good coffee will warm his heart.”

Ginny twists round properly to face her and scowls. “I’m not learning for some wizard! Not everyone cares so much about being the perfect little housewife, I’m going to actually do something with my life!”

Fleur folds her arms and glares at her. “And why is it the one or the other, hmm? I think you remember I am just as good as any man. Or do you forget the tournament? Those boys were lucky to compete with me, I knew much more than little Harry, or even Viktor Krum. But that does not mean I don’t want love. Passion. A family. Someone to come home to after I have done something with my life.”

Ginny is shocked to find herself speechless. That never happens. She has six brothers, she knows how to argue back.

Ginny swallows. “You don’t need a wizard for that.”

Oh. She didn’t mean to say that. Oh no. What did she just say?

“I mean…for coffee. You don’t— Just hurry up and show me how to work this thing. I want to have some time to fly this morning before Mum comes down and starts us cleaning or something.”

Fleur narrows her eyes at her…and then just flicks her hair behind her shoulders, reaching for the coffee pot.

“Here, this coffee, it is already…the grains are..no, this is not the word! Oh la! It is too early for this!”

Ginny sniggers at the grumbling witch. It’s nice to see Fleur just as frustrated with herself as other people are with her. She can get a taste of her own potion. “What are you trying to say?”

Fleur sighs. “Normally, when you find the coffee, from the plant, it is not like this…what is the word for what you use for the floo?”

The floo?

“Uh… floo powder?”

“Powder! Yes! See, this is a powder. But before, it was bigger...ah putain, that word!”

Ginny is full out laughing now, and Fleur huffs at her.

“Do you mean beans? Coffee beans?”

“Beans? That is the word? The same as green beans? But this is not the same thing at all!”

Ginny has never really thought about it. Guess not.

It must be hard learning English, she has to admit.

She shakes her head at Fleur. “Fleur, how about you show me what to do, and explain it in French. You’re right, it’s too early for that much thinking. I think your brain might explode if you need to talk about plungers and filters.”

Fleur ducks her head, a rare moment of embarrassment. “Filter is filtre. I think that I can manage that. But yes, I will show you. Regards!”

And Ginny watches, sipping at her tea as the witch begins making the coffee, murmuring away in French as she goes. It is quite a soothing language.

Ginny finds her eyes drifting shut as she breathes in the steam from her tea and feels the morning sunlight on her face.

“You are not watching! You ignore me now? You will not learn anything if you do not watch, little girl!”

And the peace is broken.

Ginny squints an eye open. Maybe that’s enough Fleur for today.

She reaches out and clamps a hand over Fleur’s mouth.

“Sssshh. Fleur, I don’t actually care about coffee. I don’t like it. I just found it for you because you care about it so much. I don’t see why. It tastes awful. My tea is much better.”

She pulls her hand away, expecting Fleur to hex her, or strop off to Bill or something, but instead the witch smiles at her. A soft, warm smile.

Ginny can feel her face heating up. She’s probably as red as her hair, is— Is this some kind of Veela power? She suddenly knows exactly what Ron has been talking about this whole time, she…she’s breathtaking.

Fleur reaches towards her and pulls her cup from her loose grasp, bringing it to her lips and taking a sip of her tea.

“Hmm, I still prefer coffee, I think. But your tea is very nice. Maybe I will like it, after a bit of time. But thank you, ma petite, for the coffee. It is not as good as in France but…go. You must fly. William has told me that you are a good flyer. I would like to watch you.”

Ginny shakes herself and stumbles to her feet. Merlin, what?

I would like to watch you

She turns away and jogs over to the broom shed.

I would like to watch you

She definitely needs to clear her head now.

I would like to watch you

Now she’s the one who’s brain has exploded. It’s too early for this.

Chapter Text

Ginny drags Hermione into Percy’s room and shuts the door.

“Thank Merlin you’re here!” she says, throwing her arms around the other witch. “You have to help me, I’m desperate.”

Hermione hugs her back and then pulls back to look into her eyes, worry etched on her face. “What is it? Is someone hurt? What’s happened?”

Ginny pulls her to sit on the bed. “It’s this house. I think it’s coming to life, like Hogwarts.”

“What?!”

Ginny nods seriously at her. “It’s the only explanation. It’s like it’s forcing me to spend time with her.”

Hermione frowns. “Her? Her who? Ginny What are you talking about it’s—”

And then she thumps Ginny on the arm. “You mean Fleur?! For Merlin’s sake, Ginny! You scared me half to death! It really isn’t all that bad. From your letters I was expecting Umbridge or something.”

“Not that— she’s awful, Hermione! Everywhere I go, every day, going on and on. This isn’t how we do it in France. This food is so strange. My wedding this, my wedding that. These sheets are too heavy. You English! What are you doing? I would like to watch you. Isn’t Bill amazing, he is nothing like his brothers. You and Gabrielle will be sisters. Are you listening, little girl? She talks to me like I’m three! You have to save me, Hermione. Or send a silencio her way. You’re nearly seventeen now, right? They wouldn’t care that much. Just one silencio maximo, I’m begging you!”

Hermione smiles and shakes her head. “She is a little tedious, I must admit. She made some comments about my hair that I definitely want an apology for.”

Ginny grins. “Yes, yes exactly! Did she try to brush it? She’s always doing that to me! Says I don’t take care of it properly.”

“Well, I’ve only been here five minutes, so no, but I can see why that would be a bit annoying.”

Oh it’s such a relief to have someone to talk to that understands. Mum hates her too, Ginny can tell, but she never says anything. Just grits her teeth at Fleur’s comments.

She pulls Hermione into another hug. “I’m never letting you go. You’re not leaving my sight, I mean it. Every time I’m alone, she just pops up, you can’t leave me alone ever again, even—

“Oh, pardon, do I interrupt something? I found your ugly cat in my room, Hermione. He gets the hairs everywhere.”

Ginny pulls back from Hermione with a strange whining sound. No escape. “Hair. Singular. Not plural,” she mumbles in despair, giving Hermione an ‘I told you so’ look.

Fleur lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. He gets hair everywhere. Now will you take him? He will not let go with his little…hands.”

Hermione moves over to coax Crookshanks from Fleur’s shoulder. He does seem to be digging his claws in. Ginny holds back a laugh as Hermione pulls at him. He’s hanging on tight.

“Crookshanks! Bad cat, leave Fleur alone!”

“Be careful of my robes! He will damage them with his…comment dit-on?”

Hermione gives up, stepping back and frowning, so Ginny sighs and walks forwards.

“Claws. His claws.” She steps closer to Fleur to have a look. Crookshanks purrs.

Hermione gasps with happiness. “He likes you! He must want you to stroke him, Ginny.”

Okay?

She’s standing very close to Fleur now, who is eyeing her curiously. Ginny swallows and keeps her eyes on Crookshanks, reaching out and stroking him.

“Oh putain, the claws! Get him off me!”

Ginny grins. “Who’s a good boy?” she whispers, stroking him again.

Fleur growls. “Stop caressing him! It is making him hold harder!”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Yes! You will stop, and I will take off my robes while you hold him.”

“No!”

Silence fills the room.

Ginny cringes. “Um…I mean…you don’t have to. I’ll just try to pick him up.”

She avoids everyone’s gaze and focuses on Crookshanks.

“Come on, boy. Come to Ginny. I’ll get you a nice fish…or you can chase the gnomes in the garden, would you like that?”

She lifts him with one hand, prying his claws from Fleur’s robes with the other.

His claws come free and he wriggles in her arms, dropping to the floor and wandering out of the room.

Fleur sighs. “Ah, quel soulagement! But look at my robes, it is a disaster, see? Has he marked my shoulder?”

She pulls her robes sideways from her shoulder, leaving it bare.

“Uh, no,” Ginny squeaks, “looks fine, all good.”

“You are sure? I do not want an infection. I know you are used to marks on the skin from all of your…” she trails off, and then grabs Ginny’s hand, pointing at her freckles. “…These spots. I do not have these things. I am glad. They would not suit me, I don’t think.”

Oh, so now she thinks Ginny’s skin is ugly?

“No. Your skin is clear as ever. No freckles, don’t you worry. Now can you leave us alone?” she huffs at her, pulling her hand back.

Fleur’s eyes dart between Hermione and Ginny and then she smirks. “Of course. I will leave you two alone, do not worry, ma petite.”

And then she leans in to whisper in Ginny’s ear. “Is this why you do not want the wizards? You have a witch?”

Ginny shivers, and her whole face starts radiating heat as her heart stops. No no no no.

She jerks back, bumping into the bed next to a confused Hermione.

“No! That’s not— why do you think— I didn’t say— no!”

Fleur chuckles. “Do not be embarrassed, chérie. It is quite common. You English are so…what is the word? Uptight, about these things. This is normal, in France. You are young. Have some fun.”

Ginny lets out a squawk and then clears her throat. “I do have fun! Just not…not like that. I— I’m not uptight. At all. Trust me. I’ve had boyfriends. In fact, I would have had loads more boyfriends if my brothers didn’t stop me all the time. They’re the prudes, not me!”

Fleur just carries on smirking, backing out of the room. “Okay, you are right, I am sure. But I will close the door for you, in case you change your mind.”

The door clicks shut, and Ginny collapses back onto the bed with a groan.

“Uh…Ginny? What in Salazar’s name just happened?”

“So that’s what she was talking about!” Hermione says, leaning across the table to refill Ginny’s glass, with firewhisky this time. “I thought it was just because she whispered in your ear that you went so red. You were almost purple! That makes so much more sense now!”

Ginny just grumbles as she takes a slice of cake from Ron. “Yeah, ha ha, laugh at the useless baby bisexual. Took you two long enough to figure out you liked each other too.”

Ron snorts. “Yeah, that’s fair. At least we know Fleur likes witches now though. That’s a point in your favour.”

What? They don’t know that! “She didn’t say that! What are you talking about? That isn’t what I said at all!”

Ron glances at Hermione and then back. “Well, no, but she implied it, didn’t she? She was obviously keeping your secret in front of Hermione, so she couldn’t just out you both. She said it’s normal in France. She’s French. She said you should have fun whilst you’re young. That means she thinks it sounds fun. And she was young once too, so…”

…Is that what she’d meant?

“I think you’re reading into things, Ron. Right Hermione?”

She turns to look at the other witch, who is nursing her firewhisky with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Hmm, we need more evidence. On with the story, Ginevra.”

Ginny rests her head on the table with a sigh. “You were both there though! And Harry arrived the next day, he’s never said anything about Fleur either.”

Ron scoffs, some cake crumbs flying across the table. “Yeah, but he’s not the most observant person, is he? He kind of had too much to think about to notice you ogling Fleur.”

“I didn’t ogle her! That was you! You did way more ogling than me! You couldn’t even talk to her!”

“Aha! So you’re saying that you did ogle Fleur, just less than Ron, and you spent more time talking with her than we did. That’s quite the Freudian slip, Ginny Weasley.” Hermione jumps in, triumphantly.

“Fraulian trip? What?”

“Freudian. That’s muggle psylology.”

“Psychology, Ron, it means the study of the psyche, the mind.”

What? “Muggles can read minds? Like legilimency?”

Hermione laughs. “No! Of course not. They just pay attention to people’s behaviour, patterns, habits. What they do, what they say, things that have happened to them and how they responded. What effects these events have produced.”

Hmm. “Like that book you gave us all on ptsd after the war?”

“Yes! Precisely! And didn’t it help?”

Ginny nods absentmindedly. It had been interesting.

Wait a minute.

“Is that what you two are doing? Psychologying me?”

Hermione just shrugs. “Kind of. I’m mostly just enjoying the story. I want to see how far it goes. You must be in serious denial, there are already so many signs.”

Ginny sucks some chocolate icing off her fork. She’s starting to think they might have a point.

“Okay, fine. But not much else happened that summer. I just avoided her as much as possible and spent time with you guys.”

Ron cuts himself another slice of cake and then pauses. “Cake. It was your birthday not long after that, wasn’t it? She got you a present. Something weird none of us understood.”

Hermione gasps. “A cafetière! She got her parents to send her a cafetière and some coffee from France. Now that is adorable. She told you coffee is the way to warm someone’s heart and then got it for you for your birthday! You know, maybe your crush wasn’t so one sided…”

Ginny scoffs. “She got it to prove that her fancy coffee was better than my English tea, that’s all. And because she knew I hated coffee, so she could use it all herself. She kept asking me to join her for coffee and smirking at me.”

“Because she wanted to warm your heart!”

“Because I was a silly little English girl who didn’t know how to make coffee! It was my fifteenth birthday, Hermione. Don’t be gross. She was nineteen! She didn’t think of me like that.”

“Oh, right, sorry. So…still sounds like she was being nice to you though. She wanted to teach you how to make coffee, something that reminded her of home.”

Maybe. It is possible…especially since Fleur is a lot nicer now than she was that first summer - when she isn’t breaking her brother’s heart. She’s less spoilt and arrogant. A nice person must have been hidden in there somewhere.

“Who knows why she did it? And then she started working full-time again with Bill at Gringotts, and we were off to Hogwarts again, ready for another terrifying year of attempted murder…actual murder, in the end.”

The room falls silent in memory.

“Wow, way to dampen the mood, Gin. More cake anyone?” Ron jokes in the sombre atmosphere.

Ginny and Hermione shake their heads at him, and the silence drags on.

“Actually, it was manslaughter…or perhaps euthanasia,” Hermione says cautiously. “I don’t know what they sentenced Snape with, in the end…it was all cancelled out by his posthumous Order of Merlin anyway.”

“Good old Snape, now there’s a romantic if ever I saw one,” Ron sighs.

Hermione gives him a skeptical look. “Romantic? Bit too obsessed for that. Bordering on creepy.”

“Bordering? You do realise how much I look like Harry’s mum? As soon as he told me about them it was all I could think about. If he saw Harry as James, I don’t want to to know what he was thinking about me.”

“Eww, Ginny! No! Why did you put that thought in my head? Now I’m wondering what was wrong with Harry if he fancied someone who looks like his mum!” Ron whines.

“It is all rather Oedipal.”

“Edible? Hermione, just stop talking.”

“Alright, alright, let’s get back to Fleur then, and how much your sister fancied her. You know, her sister-in-law? Her favourite brother’s wife.” Hermione wiggles her eyebrows.

“Okay, that’s enough psychology for one night. As I said, I didn’t see her much after that as I was back at school. Nothing more to analyse there.” Ginny says hurriedly, stacking some plates.

“Well, what about Christmas then? Didn’t you share a room with her?” Hermione teases.

Oh no…

“Oh yeah, that’s right! And Fred and George got you trapped under the enchanted mistletoe with her!”

“What?!” Hermione screeches. “How has nobody told me this? How did I miss that?”

Ginny sighs. “You were with your parents for Christmas, so there was no escape from Phlegm…literally. It was Christmas Eve, right before bed. Ron went outside with Bill and walked in at the last minute and saw us, that’s how he knows. Harry was off talking about the Half-Blood Prince with Remus, so I was still playing exploding snap with the twins. Or I was at first…”

Chapter Text

Ginny bursts out laughing as the latest round of exploding snap combusts right into George’s face. Oh, that was wicked! He even has soot in his eyebrows.

“Now everyone will be able to tell you two apart! George is the one with no eyebrows!”

He reaches up to check that they’re still there and she just laughs harder. Oh. Oh they’re gonna get her back for that but she just doesn’t care! This is the best Christmas Eve ever.

They’re all sat in the living room, which Mum had left her alone to decorate earlier. Every surface is strewn with tinsel, it’s even covering the ceiling. Fleur hates it. It’s amazing.

And that’s the other good thing. With everyone here, she hasn’t had to speak to Fleur all evening. She can’t even hear her that well as Mum keeps turning up the Celestina Warbeck to drown her out. Plus the exploding snap. Genius.

Eventually though the latest song does come to an end with an ear shattering high note. Everyone except Mum is politely grimacing, it’s hilarious.

“Oh, is it over? Thank goodness, what an horrible–”

“Right!” Dad interrupts Fleur with a shout, “Shall we have a nightcap then? Who wants egg-nog?”

Ginny gets up off the floor, stretching. She’s definitely having some egg-nog. Mum and Dad haven’t even let her have any butterbeer yet, leaving it for the ‘grown-ups’. They always coddle her so much. Dad was probably giving Bill sips of butterbeer to try when he was ten! It’s just because she’s a girl, she’s sure of it.

Ah well. At least her brothers didn’t beat her up as much once she hit puberty and they got all awkward. And she gets her own room. Well, normally.

She looks over at Bill and Fleur, still talking in the corner. Ron looks like he’s listening in too.

“Uh Bill? The fire’s looking a bit low. Wanna come get some wood from the garden with me?” Ron asks overly casually.

Ginny scoffs. He just wants to ask Bill for some tips with women. Her brother is so obvious. Him and Hermione need to get it together already…although who knows what Hermione sees in him, the numpty.

Bill and Ron make their way outside. Oh balls! Fleur is looking her way.

She whirls back around to start another game with the twins, but they’re standing over by the stairs now, sniggering to themselves. Well that’s not good.

Mum! Where’s Mum? Or Harry he…she looks over to the sofa where Harry is sat with Remus.

“…the Half-Blood what?” Remus asks, frowning.

“Prince! The Half-Blood Prince, he…”

That bloody prince! It’s all Harry will talk about. How can he be so in love with some bloke writing in a potions book? After everything Ginny went through with Tom…

She’d thought he might understand. She’d had Voldemort in her head. Confided in him. For a whole year, whilst she was lost and alone…

And nobody noticed.

Until Harry saved her.

How can he not understand that—

“What is this egg-nog? We do not have to put eggs on our heads, I hope.”

Ginny blinks and turns to Fleur.

“What? No! It’s a drink. A Christmas drink.”

“With the eggs? That sounds disgusting.”

Ginny can’t deal with her right now. Her thoughts are still…

Fleur steps forwards and puts a hand to her cheek.

“Why, what is wrong, ma petite? Don’t be sad that I do not like your egg drink. I will try it if I must.”

Ginny pulls away, ducking her head.

“Uh, I’m fine it’s…I’m gonna go use the bathroom.”

She hugs her arms around her waist and turns to make her way upstairs. She’ll come down for egg-nog, but she just needs a moment alone.

“Wait! What is the matter? You are not good at the lies, chérie.”

Go away! She jogs over to the bottom of the stairs. And then her feet are stuck to the floor.

Woah! Her arms flail, and she catches herself on the banister.

Wait. They’re not stuck. She just can’t go upstairs. It’s like there’s a ward or—

She looks up to the top step. To the twins, laughing at her.

“Fred! George! Let me go! What is this? What—”

They point at something above her head. Mistletoe? Great. Now she’s gonna have to snog the next poor bugger who tries to go upstairs.

Hang on.

Why is she already stuck if—

She slowly turns around in horror.

Fleur is right behind her, folding her arms and glaring up the stairs at the twins.

“You must be kind to your little sister! Trapping her under the gui, mon Dieu, I would never do such a thing to my Gabrielle. A kiss is an important thing when you are this young.”

Young?!  Ginny growls at Fleur. “I’m not some little kid! I know kissing isn’t a big deal!”

Fleur’s eyes fall to meet hers. Ginny gulps.

Fleur reaches out and brushes some hair out of Ginny’s face, humming thoughtfully. “You are sure? You are not scared?”

Ginny’s heart is thumping quite fast now. But…

This is so stupid. Just because she hasn’t kissed a girl before doesn’t mean she’s some scared little—

She’s kissed boys loads of times. She’s good at it. And she’s going to prove it.

She smirks at Fleur, stepping closer and cupping her cheek, ignoring the squirming in her stomach and leaning up to press their lips together.

Her lips are soft and—

Oh. They begin to part slightly beneath hers, kissing her back with the lightest touch.

A sigh escapes her, and she pushes closer. So this is what kissing a girl is like. A woman.

Damn. Okay, she definitely likes this. Her lips are tingling, Merlin, this…

This is Fleur! Her brother’s fiancée!

She jerks back, a lot less coolly than she would have liked, and trips backwards up the stairs. Looks like the charm has been broken at least.

She scrambles to her feet, hoping not too many people saw that embarrassing display. Her eyes dart past Fleur. Oh no.

Bill and Ron are stood in the doorway, wood dropped to the floor and gaping at them.

She turns around and thunders up the stairs after the twins. “I’m going to kill you! Fred! George! Get back down here so I can hex you into next Christmas! Where is my wand?”

A knock comes at the door. She sighs. Unless it’s Harry, she knows who that is. No-one in her family knocks before coming in her room.

“Come in!”

Fleur comes in, shutting the door behind her, and turning to smile at her. And then frowning.

“You are on my bed.”

Ginny shakes her hair behind her head and crosses her arms. “It’s my turn to have the bed, and you know it. That camp-bed is awful. And I know that, because I was on it last night.”

Fleur starts taking off her clothes and Ginny looks away out the window, like she does every night and now. Normally she walks over and sits at her desk to brush her hair, but she’s not leaving the bed to be taken from her.

“It is Christmas!” Fleur whines. “I don’t want to be on that horrible thing.”

Ginny huffs and starts brushing her hair. “Then transfigure it. Aren’t you some amazing witch or something? The best in her year?”

“The best in the whole of Beauxbatons,” Fleur corrects.

Ginny chuckles. “Well then. Transfigure it into some queen-sized, four-poster monstrosity if you want.”

Her hairbrush is pulled from her hands, and she turns to glare at the other witch, who has come to sit behind her on the bed, wearing a nightgown now.

“You are doing it wrong. From the bottom, not the top.”

“I know how to brush my own hair!”

“No, you do not. Arrêtes! I will do it.”

The hairbrush begins to move through her hair and Ginny gives up.

“Your hair is magnificent, like fire!”

…A compliment? Is this really Fleur or someone else in polyjuice?

Ginny slowly turns her head. “You’re still trying to get the bed, aren’t you?”

Fleur huffs and drops the hairbrush.

“S’il te plaît! The transfiguration will not last all night. I will wake up on the floor if I do this! Oh! I know, we can share your bed. We are both small, it will be fine.”

No no no

“Okay, fine! I’ll sleep on the camp-bed. You can have this one, you win!”

Ginny hastily stands up and moves over to the rickety little bed on the floor.

She lies down under the covers and hears Fleur murmur a nox as the lights go out.

She tries to just relax, but she’s not tired at all. She can never sleep on Christmas Eve, and it’s worse with someone else in the room.

She hears sheets moving in the bed next to her, and scrunches her eyes closed tighter.

“Are you still awake, chérie?”

Ginny holds her breath. Hearing Fleur whisper to her in the dark is…

It’s different.

She feels vulnerable, lying so close.

She’d asked Bill what chérie means. It means dear, or darling.

She doesn’t know what to think of that.

“I think you are awake, little girl.”

Ginny rolls around to face her, frowning.

“Aha! She is awake. And angry with me again. Because I call you a girl? You do not want to grow up so fast, chérie, enjoy being young.”

“I grew up ages ago. I had to. We are going to war, you know.”

Silence greets her.

Ginny rolls back around and hugs her pillow.

“Is that why you were sad tonight? Because of the war? It makes me sad too. Scared. I have such fear for the future. That is why I want you to be young and free. To fly.”

Oh.

Oh no, why does Fleur have to be nice to her now? When she’s already upset…

She feels tears spill down her cheeks. No! Now she is being a little girl. A baby!

She wipes her eyes on her pillow and clears her throat.

“I think we all need to be free, Fleur. No matter how old we are. That’s why we have to fight. We’ll never be free with him. I’m going to fight for our freedom like everybody else. And nobody’s going to stop me for being young, or just a girl.”

Tom isn’t going to control her life ever again. He’s not going to hurt any other little girls. Not if she can help it.

The camp-bed creaks and tilts down behind her knees, making her jump.

She looks up to find Fleur sat on the edge behind her legs, holding out a hand to her.

“Okay. You are not a little girl. You are a champion, chérie. Come, share the bed, you will protect us both from the shadows,” she whispers.

Ginny knows she’s just humouring her. Being nice. Fleur doesn’t need protecting; Ginny doesn’t even have a wand.

…But…she does get up. Lets Fleur lead her by the hand into the bed and draw the covers up over them. Lets Fleur lie behind her and stroke her hair.

More tears leak from Ginny’s eyes. “I won’t let him hurt them, Fleur. He’s a monster he—he took my childhood. He took it and it was gone. It was just gone.”

Arms come around her and soft words fill her ears, murmured French drifting into the night air. The tears slowly stop, and she lets the foreign sounds carry her to sleep.

Chapter Text

An uncomfortable silence fills the kitchen. Ginny stands up, flicking her wand to set the dishes washing themselves in the sink – now that’s a household spell she didn’t mind learning from her mum. It does mean there’s nothing left to do with her hands though. She starts boiling the kettle and getting cups and tea by hand, her back turned to the others.

A large hand comes to rest on her shoulder. “I’m sorry you couldn’t talk to me about that stuff, Gin. I was a prat. I should have made sure you were okay.”

Ginny sighs and turns to face her brother. She smiles up at his guilty eyes. “You were just a kid too, Ron. And Fleur was right. We were so young, we deserved to be free. It wasn’t your burden to bear.”

He presses a kiss to her head, and then flicks his wand at the plates to start them drying and sends the cups and saucers to sit on the table.

“Still. I’m glad we talk about stuff now. And that she was there to talk to you.”

Ginny fills the teapot and carries it over to the table.

“Yeah. Me too. That was nice of her. Maybe…maybe I was too young to understand her at first…either that or we both grew up over that year.”

Hermione squeezes her hand and takes over pouring everyone’s tea – they need to hold off on the firewhisky for a bit if they’re going to make it through the evening. “I think we all grew up a lot that year, and especially the next. We were all still so young though. When I think back now about the things we did…we were children. I think more talking would have done us all a lot of good.”

Ginny clears her throat. “So, no-one’s gonna mention the mistletoe?” she jokes, changing the subject.

It works, and the mood lightens as they all chuckle.

“Oh you poor thing, Ginny. Morgana and Merlin and all the founders must have it in for you to trap you with a Veela for your first kiss with a woman,” Hermione says with a smile.

“And then sent you off to share a room with her, don’t forget that,” Ron adds.

“To share a bed with her! If Mum only knew what she was doing, sending me to sleep with her. Bill and Fleur can’t share a bed before their wedding, Merlin forbid, but let’s stick the poor questioning youngest daughter into the tiny bedroom with the beautiful Veela.”

“Oh Ginny, it’s hilarious, really! And to think none of us noticed!”

An awkward silence falls.

They sip their tea.

Hermione sighs. “I always say the wrong thing, don’t I? I guess we weren’t the best friends when it came to noticing what was going on in your life. I did notice your crush eventually at least…but only after you told me you liked witches. Sorry.”

Ginny grins at her. “It’s okay. And your big mouth has actually reminded me of something. I think someone did notice.”

Hermione raises her eyebrows and the leans to rest on her elbows, intrigued. “Really? Who?”

Ginny grins wider. “Two people, in fact, probably laughing down at me from above right now. A certain couple who, like me, beat for both teams—”

“Tonks!”

“Remus!”

Ginny gives them both a mocking round of applause. “Both correct. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

It’s not long now until they go back to Hogwarts, and the atmosphere is really weird. The Christmas excitement has worn off, and there isn’t much to distract them from whatever is brewing underneath the surface. More and more attacks are being reported each day. Ginny can barely stand reading the Prophet anymore.

There are more people popping by though, which is nice. Mostly to talk to Dad, passing on messages in hushed whispers. But with Harry and Ron off whispering too, and Bill and Fleur hanging off each other, it does give Ginny someone to talk to other than Mum.

Although Tonks isn’t very talkative these days. Mum is obviously trying to set her up with Bill, but he hasn’t seemed to have gotten the message, off walking around the garden with Fleur as soon as Tonks arrived. Ginny can see them through the window, laughing about something and looking in the pond.

She pours Tonks another cup of tea and sighs. “What are they even laughing at? No one ever laughs with Fleur! She just laughs at our stupid English things and doesn’t understand any of our jokes.”

Tonks just stares up at her from where she’s sat slumped forwards in her chair, head resting in her hand.

Ginny huffs and slumps down too. “And do you know she rearranged my room? She moved all my stuff everywhere, including all my presents. Said it made the room seem bigger or something. How would she like it if I started looking through her drawers…” she grumbles, mostly to herself at this point.

A light seems to go on in Tonks’ eyes, and she slowly sits up.

Ginny frowns. “What? What did I say?”

The faintest trace of a smile appears on Tonks’ face.

“So. Fleur. You hate her, huh?”

Ginny grins. “Yes! Oh, she’s driving me crazy! I’ve had to share a room with her all Christmas. It’s worse than Ron. She’s always asking me question after question, and she is not good at taking turns with the bed. On Christmas Eve, she insisted I was brushing my hair wrong, brushed it for me, and then told me to get into bed with her! I mean, the nerve!”

Some colour has come back into Tonks’ face now, to Ginny’s relief. She’s been looking half dead for months for some reason. So she just wanted a bit of a gossip. Who knew?

They’re interrupted by the back door opening, and then the whole room seems to hold its breath.

It’s Lupin.

He spots them both and freezes.

An awful silence fills the room. Ginny doesn’t understand it, but there’s no way she’s interrupting this.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Looking for Arthur, I’ll— Look at the time. Must be—”

He starts backing out the door.

“Remus, wait!” Tonks shouts.

He turns back, head ducked. He looks tired. Even more haggard than usual. Maybe it’s the full moon soon.

“Tonks, I don’t think—”

“Ginny was just telling me about Fleur!”

Lupin frowns over at them. Ginny can’t blame him, bit of a weird conversation starter.

Tonks raises her eyebrows at Lupin and darts her eyes back and forth between him and Ginny. “She has to share a room with her. She hates her. Can’t stop talking about her. Because she hates her so much.”

Lupin slowly slides his eyes to Ginny.

So? Ginny shrugs. “Uh, yeah. I was just telling Tonks how annoying she is.”

“How you shared a bed with her,” Tonks adds, still looking at Lupin.

Ginny feels herself flush. Tonks! Don’t tell Professor Lupin that!

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea, okay? I was trying to go to sleep. She’s the one who kept whispering to me. Calling me a little girl and then pulling me into her bed. I was quite happy sleeping by myself! I’ve had enough of her and all her stupid advice and opinions. Telling me I do everything wrong, treating me like a kid. I’m not a kid!”

Lupin slowly walks in and sits down next to Tonks, sharing a look with her.

“Miss Weasley, if you didn’t want to go to bed with her, you didn’t have to.”

What?

Her eyes snap to Lupin. He’s looking at her softly.

“Oh. Well, she didn’t force me. She was being nice actually…unusually for her,” she tries to joke. She doesn’t want to tell them she was crying.

Thankfully Lupin huffs out a laugh. He even smiles at Tonks.

“Ah. I see.”

Tonks snorts. “So, how long have you hated her, Gin?”

Ginny takes a sip of tea and shrugs. “Since she got here, I guess. You…you don’t think I should be nice to her, for Bill?”

Lupin gives her a warm look and pours himself a cup of tea. “I think it’s always a good idea to try being nice to people. And she will be family soon, you should try to get on.”

Ginny scoffs and folds her arms. “That’s what Bill said! And I’m trying, okay? I got her the stupid coffee that she likes, and I help her with her English. I probably spend more time with her than anyone else in this house, maybe more than Bill and he’s going to marry her!”

“And uh, what do you think about that, Gin? The wedding and that?”

Ginny takes a cautious look out of the window. Bill and Fleur are on their way back, but they’re at the end of the garden so…

Ginny turns back, voice lowered just in case. “It’s stupid! They barely know each other. I probably know both of them better than they know each other. She’s only nineteen! I know people get married young during wartime, but come on, she was at school with us! I’ve sat at the Ravenclaw table at the same time as her. He hasn’t. Why can’t he find—”

She stops herself, looking down into her tea guiltily.

“Why can’t he find what, Miss Weasley?” comes Lupin’s soothing voice.

She swallows. “Why can’t he find someone else. Fall in love with someone else. Anyone but her,” she mumbles at the table.

More silence. She should have kept her mouth shut.

She looks up at them both. They’re smiling sadly at her.

And then the door bangs open.

“It is bloody freezing out there!”

“William! Language! Your little sister is here!”

Ginny looks up with a groan. “He can bloody well say anything he bloody well wants in front of me…uh, sorry Professor.”

Lupin laughs and stands. “Not your professor anymore, Miss Weasley. Don’t you worry. I won’t be taking any house points.”

“Remus! Didn’t see you there. Oh, and Tonks, uh, that’s…So. Tea, anyone?”

They all shake their heads, gesturing to their full cups.

“Bill. Nice to see you again. Thank you again for having me for Christmas. And Fleur. As beautiful as ever. I hope you are enjoying your English Christmas?”

Fleur kisses Lupin’s cheeks. “Merry Christmas again. I am enjoying myself, thank you. The Weasleys are very…it has been…busy.”

Ginny frowns. “Busy? All you can say is busy?”

“Ginny…” Bill warns.

Fleur just huffs, sitting down next to Ginny and stealing her tea, taking a sip.

Hey!

“That is not what I meant, ma petite, and you know it,” she smiles.

“You know, instead of stealing my tea you could just go and get the coffee you got me from my room. Oh wait, you moved everything and now I don’t know where it is!”

“Aha! So you do remember my present! Why is it in your room? It should be in the kitchen, silly…feu.”

Feu?

“I don’t like coffee! I told you!”

“And I didn’t like tea, but I am enjoying this one, non?”

Ginny growls and yanks the cup from her hands, tea spilling through the air.

Fleur freezes it with a wave of her wand, directing it into an empty cup.

Ginny turns away from her and then freezes.

Everyone is staring at them.

Tonks bursts out laughing. Well now everyone is staring at her instead. It’s been ages since Tonks laughed!

Lupin joins in. They’re crackers, the both of them. Moping around and then laughing for no reason.

“Um…what coffee, Fleur? I must have missed this story. I can buy you some if you’d like?” Bill says hesitantly.

Fleur tuts. “Ah, it is fine, chérie. It is just a joke with your sister. She is very funny, don’t you think?”

This has Bill even more confused. “Well, yeah, I’ve always thought Ginny was hilarious but…so you’re both getting along now?”

Tonks barks out another laugh and Lupin shushes her through his own sniggers.

Fleur smiles at Bill. “Why of course! I love your sister!”

Ginny chokes on a mouthful of tea. Tonks reaches over and thumps her on the back. She can’t really reach across the table, so it just hurts her shoulders as she smacks them.

And then Fleur reaches to rub her back instead. “Merlin, are you alright? Calmes-toi, sshhhtt.”

Ginny continues coughing, pushing Fleur’s hands away. “I am calm,” she gasps. “I’m fine, get off me, calmes-toi!”

She gets her spluttering under control and then looks back at Fleur. Who is smiling widely at her.

“What?”

Fleur lunges forwards and wraps her arms around her, kissing her cheeks. Ginny can feel her face heating up and some weird squawks leave her mouth.

She’s getting the Harry treatment for some reason. No wonder it makes him so flustered.

Fleur pulls back, still smiling. “Oh, ma petite, mon petit feu, why you have been listening to me! I knew it! French! You English, you are terrible with the French language. No one speaks French to me since I arrive!”

“Since—”

“Oh la! Since I arrive-d. Past tense, I know. I am just too…comment dit-on agitée?”

Ginny frowns. “Uh, excited?”

Guess she has picked up some French.

“Yes! You excite me too much.”

Wha—

Ginny stumbles to her feet, looking down at everyone.

“I um…I’m gonna go for a fly. Get some fresh air.”

Bill gives her a strange look. “You didn’t finish your tea, you have to go now? I feel like I’ve hardly seen you, Gin.”

Oh no Bill that’s— She does want to see him. But she needs to leave. She’s not sure why but…

She looks at Tonks and Lupin, pleading for an escape.

Tonks sees her call for help. “Let her go, Bill. She’s been cooped up in here all morning. She needs to work off some tension, go ride a broom for a bit.”

Great. Thanks Tonks. Because that doesn’t sound like code for—

“I’ll walk you out, Miss Weasley. Arthur said I could help myself to some vegetables, I’d appreciate the help digging up a few potatoes.”

Ginny breathes a sigh of relief. “Sure Prof— uh, Lupin. No problem. I’ll just…”

She walks over and flings on her cloak and scarf, shoving a hat on her head and stepping into a pair of wellies as she walks out the door.

She walks over to the vegetable patch uncertainly, not really sure if he was telling the truth about the potatoes or just helping her out.

Lupin stands next to her and they both look down at the carrots.

“So…potatoes? Or…”

Lupin waves his wand, and a couple burst from the ground, floating into his coat pockets.

“Right. I’ll just…”

“People can’t help who they love, Miss Weasley. They can choose to act on it of course, but the heart wants what it wants. There is no shame in that…despite what we might tell ourselves…and how desperately we push the feelings away.”

She turns to look at him. Who is he talking about? Bill and Fleur? Himself?

“I’m…not sure I follow you, Professor.” She’s sticking with Professor. It makes the conversation less…weird. Personal.

“Has anyone ever told you that I was in a relationship with Sirius before he went to Azkaban?”

Her eyes jolt to meet his.

What?! No— but…why is he telling her this?

Lupin chuckles. “I see not. Perhaps it slipped people’s minds…or they did not realise…or they don’t want to talk about it. Some people can be funny about these things…don’t you find?”

Ginny’s heart hammers in her chest. How does— does he know?

She slowly nods.

Lupin sighs, and then smiles sadly at her. “Well. I don’t mind talking about it. And neither does Tonks. Maybe she’ll be of more use to you.”

Tonks?

Her head whips round to search out Tonks’ head through the kitchen window. She’s not looking their way.

She slowly turns her gaze back to Lupin.

“I— I don’t know—, it’s so hard, Professor. It feels so…wrong. Like…I know it’s not bad, but it means there’s a part of me my family will never understand. That strangers will…nobody will see the real me, unless I show them. And I don’t know if I want to…bring everyone’s attention to me. In that way, you know?” Then she lets out a laugh. “Sorry. You must know, I mean, you’re a werewolf as well as…this. So.”

He laughs. “Yes, I do know exactly what you mean. For two reasons, as you pointed out.”

Then he sighs. “There’s no pressure to tell anyone, unless you want to. But feel free to write to me at any time. And I’m sure Tonks holds much the same sentiment. Times are hard as it is, talking is often the only respite. And…put some faith in your friends. They may surprise you. Miss Granger is rather level-headed. Perhaps start with her.”

She. It’s. This is.

She throws her arms around the man. He’s thin and bony, and she feels like he could break if she hugs him too hard, but she can’t stop herself.

He understands.

She pulls back. “Oh, Professor, I’m sorry I— I didn’t mean—”

He squeezes her shoulder. “I know. I know.”

She wipes at her eyes. “I think I’m gonna go for that fly now. Thank you, Professor Lupin.”

He squeezes her shoulder once more and then takes a couple of steps back, turning and vanishing on the spot.

Chapter Text

“Oh, I miss Lupin. And Tonks. Does it ever just hit you how much you miss them?”

Ron squeezes Hermione’s hand. “All the time. Same as Fred. I never forget, but sometimes it just hits you. And never in the same way, like, sometimes it gets you right in the lungs. Takes the air out of the room. And other times it’s like it fills them. Like a memory swoops into my chest and helps me breathe.”

Hermione lets out a sob and Ginny wipes at her eyes. “Merlin, Ron! You’re killing us, since when did you get so emotionally intelligent?”

He shrugs. “Must be Hermione. And Harry. He’s had to work through a lot of stuff, and it helps him to talk. At first I just listened…and then I figured I should think things over and say some stuff back.”

“Well, it’s working. That was almost like having Lupin back with his calm words of wisdom.”

Ron pulls his jumper down over his hands and cups his mug of tea, adopting a weary expression on his face. “Sometimes words are the best thing, Miss Weasley, especially from those that care for us. Now. Tell me about how you want to get into Miss Delacour’s knickers.”

Ginny bursts out laughing, and Hermione reaches back to grab a scroll, throwing it at his head.

“Ron, you prat! Morgana’s tits, you’re such an arse!” Ginny gasps.

He rolls up his sleeves and laughs. “Well you did! Lupin and Tonks could clearly see it. You pinged all the gaydars in the room!”

Ginny groans. “I know, I know. I had a crush on her, alright? Happy? I didn’t know though, did I!”

Hermione grins. “You-oo loved her!” she sing-songs.

“I didn’t love her!”

“Oh, Ginny, please! Please tell me there’s more, this is better than any romcom I’ve seen lately.”

“Well the next time I saw her was when Bill lost his face to Greyback, and then the time after that was the summer before their wedding, so there’s not much comedy coming your way,” Ginny grumbles. “And I loved Harry then, not her. I think seeing her run to Bill like that, promise to still marry him even after what Greyback did…I just knew. Deep down, I knew she loved him, and I’d never have a chance. I moved on.”

“Oh.” Hermione sits back, defeated.

Ginny reaches for the firewhisky. “Yeah.”

Once she’s poured some, Hermione reaches for it too, and then Ron.

She takes a burning sip.

Who knew she’d had her heart broken and not even realised? Not even admitted it to herself.

And then there he was. Harry. Saying he liked her. The little boy with no family who grew up too fast and smiled at her. Saw her. He was kind and brave and true. Her first crush. Her first love…maybe.

“I wanna talk to Harry.”

She gets up and stumbles towards the floo.

“Ginny, it’s late. It’s…Oh. It’s only half past nine. How much did we drink? How much did we eat already?”

Ginny ignores Hermione and throws the floo powder in the living room grate, sticking her head in. “Harry’s living room!” she says, as clearly as she can.

And then she can see two sets of legs on a sofa. Just sat watching tv, thank Merlin. She’s popped in on worse before.

“Ginny! What are you doing up so early?”

“No time difference, I’m back home today, remember? I’m over with Ron and Hermione having dinner.”

Harry’s face comes into view, kneeling in front of her. And then someone kneels down next to him.

“Weaslette, bit rude flooing in without any warning, don’t you think?”

“Hey ferret face, good to see ya too.”

Draco grins at her. They both look happy.

“Here, I’m getting a bit of a back-ache doing this, do you two fancy popping over for a drink? Tea, butterbeer, firewhisky, you name it. And there might be some cake left if Ron hasn’t finished it all.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise into his hair. “Sounds like quite the party. What’s the occasion?”

“And why weren’t we invited?”

“Ginny’s in love with Fleur!” comes Hermione’s slightly tipsy voice from the kitchen.

Ginny turns around to send another dancing-legs jinx her way. “I’m not in love with her! It was just a crush, you lightweight!”

She sticks her head back in the floo. To Harry and Draco’s smug faces.

“Oh, we’re definitely coming now, Weasley. This is too good to miss.”

She pulls her head out, getting to her feet and stomping off to the kitchen, pulling her firewhisky towards her. She hears the floo go again and then Harry and Draco walk in, still grinning at her.

“Yes, yes. Alright. Sit down, the both of you.”

“Someone’s grumpy,” Harry smirks. He’s been spending too much time with Draco.

“Oh Harry! You missed it. It’s the most beautiful love story,” Hermione says, hugging him.

He pulls away with a laugh and sits down next to Ginny, Draco sitting opposite next to Ron.

“How much has Hermione had? Two butterbeers?”

Hermione smacks him over the head and Ron chuckles. “And firewhisky. But she’s not wrong. Ginny here’s been holding out on us. Only just realised she’s had a crush on Delacour for nine years.”

“Nine— that’s almost as long as us!” Draco gapes at her.

Ginny sighs. “Yep. Guess I’m joining your ‘I thought I hated someone but turns out I had a massive crush on them the whole time’ club.”

Harry laughs, reaching for the firewhisky and a glass. “Oh man, Gin! Look at us! How did— when did—? Nine years. So…when I was with you?”

She leans sideways against him, head on his shoulder. “Not really. She didn’t like me back, Harry. I gave up on her, shoved the feelings aside, and then I was with you. You picked me up when I didn’t even know I was down.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Gin.”

“That’s not quite true.”

Ginny looks up and frowns at Ron. “What?”

“She never said she didn’t like you. You never told her…did you?”

Ginny sits up, staring at him in confusion. “She married Bill. I didn’t need to tell her, I watched her choose someone else. We all did. Except you, Draco…uh…you didn’t miss much. Just Harry polyjuiced as a ginger called Barny.”

Draco’s face twists in disgust. “I don’t think I want to picture that. Harry. A Weasley.” He shudders dramatically and takes a sip of firewhisky.

Ron is still frowning in thought. “She talked about you, you know.”

What? “When? What do you mean?”

Ron swallows and looks between Harry and Hermione guiltily. And then reaches for his firewhisky with a sigh. “Remember when I…I left? When we were on the run I…I was stupid, and I left?”

Harry smiles. “Yeah Ron, we remember. You were a right prat. Get to the good bit, mate.”

The guilty look leaves and Ron grins at them all. “Well. I went to stay with Bill and Fleur, didn’t I? And when I wasn’t sulking and moping about feeling sorry for myself, I might have spoken to Fleur a bit.”

Ginny leans forwards curiously.

Ron curses to himself, pulling his hand back and then sucking on his cut thumb. Great. Now there’s blood on the potatoes. Can you cast episkey on a cut? Or is it salvio something? He can’t remember.

Instead he keeps his thumb in his mouth and stomps out the back door to kick at some rocks.

“Ah! What are you doing? Be careful! You are getting the sand everywhere!”

He turns to Fleur guiltily. He hadn’t seen her there, and the wind has blown the sand her way. Moron. Why did he do that? Why does he always let his temper get the better of him?

“Sorry, sorry. Are you alright? It didn’t get in your eyes, did it?”

Fleur huffs at him. “No, silly boy. Just my hairs. Hair! Singular, not plural.”

What? “Plural? What’s a plural?”

She tuts. “You English! How you learn to speak at all, I do not know. I do not think you will learn French like your sister.”

Ron frowns. “Ginny? She doesn’t speak French…I don’t think.”

Fleur studies him carefully, and then her eyes fall to his hand.

She sits down and pats the sand next to her. “Sit. Let me look at this.”

Ron looks around. It’s weird being alone with Fleur. Not as bad as before…but still weird.

“Sit!” Fleur growls.

He sits.

She takes his hand, and he tries desperately to stop his face from going red. He’s struggling just to think though as her Veela charms reach out to him. He doesn’t even hear what spell she uses to heal him.

“She can speak some French, your sister. She is clever. She learnt without trying, I think.”

He nods to himself. Yeah, everyone in the family is cleverer than him. Even his little sister.

“Ronald…Is she okay? Ginny?”

He looks up at Fleur, confused. Don’t Fleur and Ginny hate each other?

“Uh…dunno. Haven’t spoken to her. She’s at Hogwarts though so…probably not. With Snape and everything. Neville’s there though. He’s a good mate. He’ll look after her.”

Fleur scowls. “I do not think your sister needs this Neville to protect her. She will do that herself!” And then her voice softens. “But…he is her friend too? Neville? He will talk to her?”

Ron swallows. “Yeah, yeah he’s a really good friend. A really nice bloke. They went to the Yule Ball together, I’d never seen him that happy. Or Ginny. And she has other friends there. She’ll be alright…I hope.”

Fleur sighs. “I hope so too, Ronald. Maybe…if there is a way, should I send her a message? From you, I mean. So that she knows you are okay?”

Hmm. That’s a bit risky…but it’s hard not being able to talk to his family. The Death Eaters can’t find out he’s not really at home with spattergroit…

He doesn’t want Ginny to be cut off from everyone though. He hates how that feels. Being away from home had been horrible, but being away from Harry and Hermione, his best friends, is even worse.

“I want to contact her. I do. But we’d have to send her a really secret message. Something completely useless, nothing to do with the war. Just something to cheer her up. Know we’re thinking of her.”

Fleur rests her head in her hands. And then her head jolts up. “She likes to fly.”

Fly? Ginny can’t fly at Hogwarts though, not now. It would be too suspicious.

He gives Fleur an ‘are you mad?’ look.

Fleur shakes her head. “She wants freedom. She wants everyone to be free. This is why she fights. So…we fly! We make a quidditch team, and we take a picture. And we put it in a paper, this Quibbler.”

“Are you bloody mental?” Ron squeaks. “We’re at war! We can’t just play quidditch! It’s a waste of time.”

“It is a rebellion! It shows people hope, freedom. It tells the Death Eaters that we still live!”

Ron scoffs. “Or it shows them where we are and how we die!”

Fleur stands up and folds her arms, glaring down at him. “Your family is fighting. Your sister is fighting. We all could die. You like chess, little boy? You like the strategy? Find. A. Way.”

Ginny’s mouth hangs open. “That was her idea? That was you guys? In the Quibbler?”

Harry lets out a slow whistle. “Maybe this is a love story. Damn, Fleur.”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “Of course it’s the quidditch that convinces you all. Why am I not surprised?”

Ginny gets up and walks over to the fireplace, ignoring all the shouts from behind her.

“Ginny’s flat!”

She steps into the floo, and steps back out into her kitchen, walking straight through to her bedroom.

“Accio Memory Box!”

The shoebox flies towards her from under her bed, and she sits down, searching through it. There. Front page, fifth of December Nineteen Ninety-Seven.

She watches the blurry figures fly around, cheering as someone scores in a makeshift hoop.

It was Fleur. She did this. She—

Oh that long buried crush is making its way back to the surface with full force.

She stumbles back through the kitchen and into the floo before the others can come looking for her.

“Ginevra! We thought you’d run off to Delacour for a minute.”

She ignores Draco and sits down, unfolding the yellowing paper to look at it. The room falls silent.

“Oh Ginny. You kept it? All these years?”

She looks up at Hermione, teary eyed. “I looked at it every night. Every time I wanted to escape, to run away, to get on a broom and fly far away and never come back…I looked at this instead. The Freedom Flyers. Playing quidditch as if they don’t have a care in the world.”

Harry pulls her into a sideways hug. “She really got you, didn’t she? Knew exactly what to get you to cheer you up.”

Ginny chuckles. “Apparently. This is so strange! A few hours ago she was just stuck up Phlegm. What do I do now?” She looks up at them all.

Draco grins at her across the table. “Oh, I think that’s obvious, Weasley. You ask her on a date.”

She turns to Harry in horror. No no no she can’t do that…can she?

Hermione gasps. “Yes! Oh, ask her out to coffee, I’m begging you!”

Ginny’s still shaking her head at Harry, who looks at Hermione in confusion at her enthusiasm. And then at Ron.

She turns to Ron, eyes wide. He just shrugs. “Coffee is their thing. I think it’ll work.”

“I’ve already had coffee with her,” she mumbles into Harry’s shoulder.

“What was that, Weasley?”

Ginny sighs, turning her head to face Draco. “I’ve already had coffee with her. Three times, actually.”

Chapter Text

Ginny’s head lolls sideways against her mother’s shoulder as she stares down at the table, her plate still full, the chattering in the Great Hall a far-off buzzing.

She can’t bring herself to eat. To lift her hands. Even to think. She just stares.

“Ginny dear, come on. It’s over. Have a bite to eat. Keep your strength up.”

She wraps her arms around her mum instead. It’s over. The war’s over.

But…Fred. Fred Fred Fred Fred

And Tonks. Lupin and Tonks. She never got to even talk to them properly before…

“Molly. Molly, I think I’ll need some help with George, he—”

Her Dad breaks off. She’s never seen her Dad look so old.

Mum pats her cheek and then gets to her feet. “Eat dear. Maybe go and find Luna. She always makes you smile, doesn’t she? I saw her over by Harry a minute…oh. They’ve gone. Well. Have a look outside. Get some fresh air.”

She pulls Ginny to her feet, giving her one last crushing hug and then walking off between the tables.

Ginny’s feet walk along after her, up through the entrance hall and outside. She finds herself on her way to the quidditch pitch…or what’s left of it. Everything is…

The stands are mostly rubble. A couple of steps have survived. Not seats. Just the bottom of a staircase where the commentator and teachers box used to be.

Even quidditch isn’t the same anymore…

She sits on the steps and stares down at the grass, twirling her wand in her hands.

Someone puts a tray down next to her on the step.

“Hello. I think now is not a good time to fly…you might fall down. So I brought you a drink instead.”

Ginny looks up at Fleur, shielding her eyes against the sun, haloed behind the other witch. She blinks down at the tray again, frowning at the two cups.

“Is this coffee?”

Fleur sits down carefully on the broken steps. “Yes. Because I know you hate it, and I want you to drink this awful thing on an awful day. Then, when you are happy again, you can drink your tea and forget all about it.”

What?

Ginny looks up and meets her smiling eyes. “Really?”

Fleur chuckles and passes her the cup. “Non. I took it by accident. But I hope you thought I was being clever.”

Ginny breathes out a laugh, and takes a sip of coffee, holding back a grimace. “Thanks. It’s not that bad. I like it.”

Fleur flicks her wand, vanishing the tray and moving to sit next to her. “You are still not good with the lies, chérie.”

Ginny sighs, looking out across the pitch. “I got pretty good at lying this year.”

Fleur looks out too. “Well, not to me, then. I can see you, Ginny Weasley. Your fire has gone out, mon feu. I am sorry.”

Feu. Fire.

It’s comforting, being back with Fleur. Like the years wash away and she’s back at the Burrow, with only an annoying roommate to worry about.

She takes another sip of coffee. “Okay, you’re right. I do prefer tea. But maybe I just need time to get used to it.” She takes another sip. It’s bitter. “In fact, it’s already growing on me a bit.”

Fleur tuts. “Lies.”

Ginny vanishes the coffee and fills the cup with water with an aguamenti. “Correct. Ten points to…Ravenclaw. I’m a menteuse.” A liar.

She’d learnt a bit more French, stuck in the room of requirement. She’s not sure why.

“And why do you lie to me?”

“To be polite. I’m polite, you know.”

“Menteuse.”

Ginny smiles to herself. And then her smile wobbles and falls.

Fred. For a moment, she forgot.

“Oh, I am sorry. You are very kind, mon feu. I am not cross.”

She turns to look at Fleur, tears in her eyes. “It’s not you,” she whispers. “It’s Fred. And- and everything. Everything is…it’s never going to be the same anymore. Am I— I’m not allowed to be happy today. Not when…”

Fleur cups Ginny’s cheek, wiping away a tear.

And then she puts down her cup and pulls her into a hug. She smells nice, somehow, even after the battle. Like lavender.

“Your brother was brave. He fought for freedom. And happiness. You wanted them to be free…he wanted them to be happy. He wants you to smile, chérie. It is okay, you are allowed. The monster is gone! You can smile today.”

Ginny doesn’t smile. Not yet. She just cries. Cries all over Fleur until she can’t cry anymore.

Fleur doesn’t say anything else. Just holds her.

Everyone at the table is teary-eyed now, lost in memories of war. The aching loss of it.

Hermione takes Ron’s hand, and Harry reaches across the table to hold on to Draco’s arm.

Ginny wipes at her eyes, suddenly invisible to everybody. She hates all her friends being couples!

She accios more cake from the tin on the side and sends the kettle over to boil.

This seems to wake the others from their gazing.

“You know Gin, I used to think you never cried. When we were sixteen or something, no matter what happened, or what I told you, I never saw you cry. You seemed so strong. It’s why I liked you back then – you were always there, laughing and joking. Strong and steady when my world was crumbling more every day. Turns out you were crying on someone else the whole time,” Harry says with a soft smile.

Ginny smiles back. “Bit of a clue. We should’ve known we weren’t meant to be, huh? Everybody cries, Harry. But I was trying to be strong for you, you’re right. I liked being the strong one.”

Hermione lets out a sob from the end of the table, and Draco wipes furiously at his eyes. “Get to a happy bit now, Weasley, for Salazar’s sake.”

Ginny tilts her head sideways in thought. “Hmm, well there might be some comedy involved…there is alcohol. And dancing. A tango. In Argentina.”

Draco’s face lights up with glee and Hermione squeals as everyone leans in to listen.

Ginny casts another cooling charm on herself and groans at the barman. “No. Not cafe. Tea. Té. I am English, I like tea. Soy inglesa!”

The man babbles back at her in cheerful Spanish, pushing the coffee towards her. She hands him some knuts and takes the coffee in exasperation.

“Gracias,” she mutters out, looking around for a spare table, hopefully far enough away from the dance floor that the music won’t be deafening, and she won’t get kicked in the head. Some of the dancers are a bit too enthusiastic.

She wanders through the tables, looking for a big one so she can save a seat for Viktor, Hermione, Ron, and Harry later once they show up. More trouble with the international portkeys, as usual, and Viktor is still busy with press reports before the final against Egypt on Saturday. This is exactly why she came a day early.

She’s about to head towards a table, when she stops, eyes drawn across the room. Fleur? It can’t be…

She heads closer to the dance floor. She’d recognise that silvery-blonde head anywhere.

And sure enough, sat at a little table next to the dance floor, surrounded by empty glasses and goblets, is Fleur.

Ginny stands across the table from her. “Fleur? What the hell are you doing here?” Shouldn’t she be at home with Bill and her kid?

“Mon feu!” Fleur gets to her feet, swaying. And not in time to the music. She stumbles around to Ginny’s side of the table, a lot less gracefully than she normally would, and kisses her cheeks. Three times, rather than the usual two. As if she lost count.

Ginny puts her hands on her shoulders to steady her as she pulls away. “Fleur, are you drunk? It’s barely lunchtime…what’s going on?”

Fleur sighs and wraps her arms around Ginny’s neck, hugging her. Woah. She hastily pulls her cup of coffee out of the way. Good job Ginny’s got good balance, she’s gonna topple them over in a minute if she doesn’t stop clinging like that.

“Oh, chérie, je suis complètement perdue. L’abîme me regarde. Il est horrible.”

Uh…what? Her French isn’t that good.

“Who’s horrible? Do you mean Bill? What did he do?”

Fleur pulls back to squint at her suspiciously. Ginny sighs.

“Okay, Fleur, why don’t you sit down and have some coffee? I’ll get you some water too, and you can explain what’s going on. In English, remember?”

Ginny looks around and catches a waiter’s eye. “Agua, por favor.” She knows that much.

The waiter gives her a nod, and she sits down opposite Fleur.

She does look a bit of a mess. What’s going on?

She pushes her coffee cup over to Fleur’s side of the table, stacking the glasses and hovering them over to the bar.

“Well? What’s wrong, Fleur? Why are you here?”

Fleur looks down at the coffee in confusion, taking it in her hands cautiously.

“I am here to watch Viktor fly, of course. He invited me. It is the World Cup final. Egypt verses Bulgaria.”

Ginny sighs. “I know. That’s why I’m here too. He didn’t say you were coming.”

Fleur takes a mouthful of coffee, spilling it slightly down her chin. What is wrong with the witch? Ginny casts a silent tergeo to clean her up a bit.

“I wasn’t! Victoire is so little, I don’t want to leave her. But it is Bulgaria verses Egypt. The final.”

Ginny groans. “I know. You already said that just…why are you sad, Fleur?”

Fleur’s head jolts up and the waiter arrives, putting down a large jug of water and two goblets.

“I am not sad! I am…I miss my child. That is all. I am a mother, this is normal.”

Ginny squints at her, analysing her face. “Menteuse. Don’t lie to me, Fleur.”

Fleur huffs, flicking her hair behind her head and hitting some people in the face. “Fine! It is…William decided to come. His friends from Egypt persuaded him and…he said I will stay at home with the baby! Like a little housewife! I wanted to come. Viktor asked me months ago. I wanted to watch Viktor fly, but no, I am a mother, I put my family first. Then he is asked, and he decides to go! He doesn’t ask me, just sends an owl to say he is gone. So. I decide he can aller se faire foutre. I leave Victoire with your mother, and come here. I find him drunk with his friends. He does not see me. I go here, alone, and drink too. I can drink too. He does not get to be the only one who is free. Putain!”

She slams a hand down on the table and the goblets, cup and saucer rattle. Some people turn to look.

Ginny hurriedly pours Fleur a goblet of water and hands it to her. You can’t be angry whilst you’re drinking water.

But she kind of gets why. It sounds like a bit of a misunderstanding but…she’d rather watch the World Cup than be at home with a three-year-old too.

Fleur is still angrily drinking the water.

What to say? She’s probably too drunk to see things clearly, no matter what Ginny says.

“Uh…that sucks, Fleur. But you’re here now so…do you want to just have some lunch with me? I haven’t tried any Argentinian food yet. I’ve heard tapas is a big deal around here. Maybe some beans.”

Fleur smiles at her. “Green beans? Or coffee beans? Or…jumping beans! Baked beans!” She bursts into giggles. “Berty Botts’ every flavoured beans!”

Well, at least she’s laughing. And distracted.

Ginny smiles. “I think black beans are the thing around here. Do you know how to order in Spanish or…maybe I should do the talking.”

Fleur lets out an offended scoff and raises her hand at a passing waiter. “Señor! Un plato de arroz con porotos y la pesca del día para dos personas,” she shouts, and then turns back to Ginny smugly. “There, chérie, lunch. For you. I am not too drunk to give you what you want.”

Ginny feels her face heat up. She didn’t mean…she just said it wrong. Her English still isn’t perfect.

Fleur reaches across the table and takes her hand. “I am sorry about you and Harry. But you are happy now, mon feu, non? You are free to fly?”

Uhh…she’s just being friendly…right? And she’s talking about flying, like actual flying. Quidditch.

“We broke up two years ago, Fleur. It was hard at first, of course it was. But yeah, I’m happy now. Flying with the Harpies is fun, and me and Harry are friends again. Good friends. He’s coming here with Ron and Hermione later once the next portkey is sorted out.”

Fleur grins slyly at her, stroking her wrist. “Ah, so you are free. Have you found another wizard to have some fun with? Or a witch?”

Ginny casts another cooling spell on herself. And then on Fleur too, just in case. “Nothing serious but…I’ve had some fun. Nobody you know, just…the occasional wizard…or witch. Nobody on the team, that gets weird fast, trust me. If you only knew about some of the love triangles going on with the Harpies…more like love hexagons. That team is a spider’s web of past relationships. I steered clear of that.”

Fleur laughs. “Oh, ma petite, of course I understand. I was at Beauxbatons, tu vois? All witches. You think I too did not have to avoid the spider webs?”

Fleur’s smile is still sly, her eyes gleaming. Ginny pours them both more water…

Chapter Text

“So she does like witches!” Hermione cries.

“She didn’t say that.”

“She bloody well did!” Ron laughs. “Gin, you are as blind as Trelawney if you didn’t read into that. How have you ever dated anyone? She was flirting with you! Even I can see that.”

Ginny turns to Harry and Draco for support. It wasn’t that clear, was it?

Harry runs a hand through his hair with a chuckle. “Blimey, Gin. You’re worse than me. Yes, yes she was flirting with you.”

She looks at Draco.

He hums thoughtfully. “No no, she’s right. She might have just been being friendly—”

Ha! She grins triumphantly.

“—unless, after your lunch date, she asked you to dance. That didn’t happen, right Weasley? Because that would have been much too obvious for you to ignore.”

He’s smirking again now.

Ginny ducks her head, cheeks heating up once more…

They’ve finished their lunch, which actually tasted really good, not that Ginny’s quite sure what it was. Some kind of bean and rice dish, and then another fish thing. Nothing like her mum’s cooking, but that didn’t mean it was bad. She quite wants to know the recipe to try it at home sometime.

Plus all the food seems to have soaked up some of the alcohol. Fleur is a lot steadier now, and more put together since she excused herself to the bathroom a few minutes ago, coming back with a fresh face of makeup and smelling of perfume.

Fleur takes a sip of water and then grimaces. “I am sorry if I embarrassed you, Ginny. It has been…hard, these last few months. I am tired. Having a child is difficult. I miss having some space for myself…but then I feel guilty and want to never let her go.”

Ginny smiles at her. “I know. I mean…I don’t. But I get it. I have six brothers…had. Five now…well. Still. Mum had her hands full. I remember the chaos.”

The memory of Fred hits her. Out of nowhere, like it always does. Her smile fades for a moment.

Fleur smiles sadly at her and squeezes her hand. “You have six brothers, chérie. One just left earlier than us. He got the best seat to watch us all and laugh at our ridiculous lives.”

Ginny smiles gratefully.

“And I will not have seven children, mon Dieu!” Fleur continues. “I think one is enough for me. She is an angel, but she is also a cauchemar! She is too pretty for her own good. People give her everything she wants. She is spoilt.”

Ginny chuckles. “Hmm, I wonder who that reminds me of?”

Fleur flicks her wand at her. Ow! A stinging jinx? Really? Only mild, but still…

“I know she is like me! That is why I worry. It is not easy, you know. Do you notice all the men staring at me now? Just because I did not control the Veela whilst I was drinking?”

Ginny looks around. Huh. Yep, a lot of sleazy blokes creeping their way.

She turns back sheepishly. “Sorry, you’re right. I never realised…how much do you control it? If you don’t mind— you don’t have to talk about it if…if you don’t want to.”

Fleur tilts her head from side to side, considering. Then she nods.

“It is like…a hula hoop.”

Ginny bursts out laughing. “What?!”

Fleur grins at her. “Don’t laugh! It is true. Imagine that when you are a little girl, your mother tells you that your whole life, you have to spin a hula hoop. And if you let it fall, then the men will look at you. Want you. Be excited by you, but also terrified of you. They will think you are dangerous.”

Ginny’s smile falls.

“And so you are scared, and you do not understand, but you learn. It is normal. All of the women in your family must do it. So, from when you are a child, you practice with the hoop. Even when you are alone. At first, it falls a lot. And it is hard to concentrate on other things at the same time. Eating and hula hooping is not easy, tu vois?”

Ginny nods, fiddling with her goblet.

“Exactement. But…you carry on. You must. And soon, it is so natural it is like breathing. You do not think about it. It is always there, spinning. It keeps the men away.”

Fleur glances around at the men staring at them, and sighs. “Mais bon, you cannot concentrate all the time. Sometimes, the hoop, it falls. When you are angry…or tired…or drink too much.”

She shakes her head, smiles at Ginny, and stands. “But do not worry, ma petite. I am used to it. I am a big girl, I have fought in a war, these men do not frighten me. Come. Dance with me, before I am asked by one of them.”

Ginny pauses and looks at everyone sat around the table. “Uh…please don’t tell her…or anyone else…all this personal stuff I’m saying. It feels wrong that I’m blurting out all her secrets for everyone to gossip about.”

Everyone nods uncomfortably into their drinks.

“Sure Ginny. Crikey. I mean, we’ve talked about the Veela stuff before and that, joked about it, but the way she talks about it…that’s tough, no wonder she kept her distance from us Hogwarts blokes. Going from Beauxbatons to a mixed school must have been…” Ron just drifts off.

Harry glances at him and then back to Ginny. “Yeah, Ron’s right. Don’t worry, Gin, we won’t tell anyone. About any of it. It’s your secrets too…this all stays at the table.”

Hermione and Draco nod their agreement.

Ginny swallows. “Okay then.”

Ginny looks up at Fleur, who is still smiling and offering her hand. Dancing? The only time Ginny has ever danced properly was at the Yule Ball, and even then, it was mostly just shuffling and making sure Neville didn’t step on her toes.

But Fleur looks so hopeful, and some wizards are coming over…

She smiles back and takes her hand, getting to her feet. “Okay, but I don’t know how. We didn’t have dance lessons at Hogwarts, you’ll have to show me.”

Fleur’s smile widens and she pulls Ginny towards the dance floor. “But of course. Don’t worry. The tango is not so difficult for the woman. She just follows the man…or in this case, me.”

Ginny frowns. “Sounds like a sexist dance.”

Fleur tuts. “Not at all. I was just…it is not really like this. The Argentine tango is…fluid. Like a river. See how the people move slowly around the edge? They are like water. And like water it is surprising, never the same. It is a conversation. Come, I will show you. Stand in front of me.”

Ginny watches the dancers for a few more seconds, just to get an idea, and then walks over to Fleur, standing in front of her.

“Now what?” she says, somewhat embarrassedly.

Fleur smiles. “Breathe, chérie, this will be fun. Good. So, to hold me, it is like the waltz, but keep your elbows up, the same height as the shoulders. Yes, like that. And you don’t have to hold my shoulder, you can touch my arm, or at the bottom of my neck. It is fluid, the touch.”

Ginny moves her hand back and around to the base of Fleur’s neck. Okay, simple so far.

“Now, walking is the most important. You have to balance, but not straight. Bend your knees, but also your back, so you lean forwards— non non, just a little. Yes.”

Ginny feels ridiculous. Isn’t this dance supposed to be sexy? She feels like a duck.

“Hmm. Un moment. This will not work without the shoes.”

What?

Fleur mutters a spell, transfiguring first her own shoes and then Ginny’s. Ginny wobbles slightly in the heels before she finds her balance. Wait. Why doesn’t Fleur have to wear heels too? Not fair! She’s wearing men’s shoes now; why does only Ginny have to put up with girly shoes? They’d suit Fleur a lot better. Ginny never really got used to heels, they’re a pain.

“Bon. And now we will walk. You will walk backwards, I am sorry. Just stay on your toes and feel the rhythm. I will guide you.”

Fleur slowly moves forwards, and Ginny finds herself stepping back. Too fast at first, and clunky, but she looks around at other people’s feet and soon the rhythm makes a bit more sense.

“Ah, so you have found your rhythm,” Fleur murmurs.

Her hands slide up and down Ginny’s back as they move slowly around the dance floor.

“Turn your head, chérie, like you are whispering to me, like you are leaning against me.”

This…is it getting hotter in here?

Fleur sighs against her cheek. “Magnifique. You learn fast. Now, if I turn…you mirror. Where I step…you step. Watch me. Feel me. Follow me.” Oh, Ginny can definitely feel her. Her hands are everywhere.

Fleur reaches down to her lower back and pulls her around, directing her one way, and then another. She begins stepping to the side occasionally, or even backwards. Ginny just follows as best she can, getting a bit breathless, dizzy, as she watches their feet. She looks up instead, meets the other witch’s eye.

Fleur stops them for a moment, and slowly rubs her leg against Ginny’s, before it snaps away in a quick flick.

“Copy me. If I move my leg, move yours after. And you are the woman, so you will touch more. You can move your leg higher. Curl it around mine. You can wrap your arms around me. Listen to the music. Feel it.”

“How do I know what to do?” Ginny whispers back, looking down at their feet and following the movement. “Don’t I need to learn some steps?”

Fleur chuckles lowly in her ear. “Yes, that would be better. But we want to dance now, there is no time for lessons…So. It is like this… I am a quidditch player, and you are the broom. I tell you where to go with my body, touching you gently, just softly, and you know which way to go. But this is not fair, non? A woman should not be a broom. An object. So, when I tell you what to do, you say something back. You say yes, or no. You reply. If I am cheeky, turn you suddenly, like this—”

Ginny is grabbed by the waist and turned roughly to the right and she gasps.

“—or if I drop you—”

Ginny is flung to the left, Fleur’s hand low on her back and tilting her so she loses her balance and falls back.

Fleur grins down at her. “—then you do not have to be polite. You can surprise me back. With an unexpected touch.”

Ginny just stares at her, wide eyed and mouth open in shock, gripping Fleur’s hand for dear life.

Fleur sets her back on her feet with a cheerful smile. “So, you understand?”

Ginny nods weakly.

“Good. Let’s continue.”

“Okay, show me!”

Ginny frowns at Hermione. “What?”

Hermione gets to her feet and walks around to the space at the end of the kitchen near the door to the living room. “If you think she was just being friendly then come dance with me, the way she did with you. We’re friends, right? So it won’t be weird…unless you want to admit that Fleur was totally flirting with you.”

Ginny tosses her hair behind her head with a huff. “It’s a Latin dance. It’s supposed to be sensual. It’s like…acting.”

“Still. I want to see. Get over here.”

“Careful, Ronald, your wife might be replacing you for another Weasley,” Draco grins.

“Careful, Malfoy, or I’ll tell Harry what really happened to some of his favourite jumpers.”

Draco’s eyes widen and Harry’s head snaps up.

“Weasel! The point of blackmail is to not give the secret away!”

“Oops.” Ron doesn’t sound too sorry.

“I loved those jumpers! Mrs Weasley made them for me.”

“I know. Every year. We were drowning in them. They caused an avalanche every time I opened the wardrobe.”

“Then shrink them! Don’t—”

Hermione clears her throat and Ginny swallows, squeezing her hand. Great. Now everyone is watching.

Ron flicks his wand at the radio on the side, and music fills the room. He flicks through until they reach a Latin station.

Hermione smiles at her smugly.

Fine. She wants a dance? Ginny will show her a dance.

She closes her eyes and listens to the music, imagining she is back in Argentina with Fleur. What did Fleur do? How did she lead?

She steps forwards, opening her eyes but still lost in the memory, and begins guiding Hermione slowly around the room. Hermione must know a bit about dance, as she follows along easily enough.

Once they reach a corner, Ginny stops, adjusting Hermione’s head and arms, and sliding her leg against the other witch’s, stroking her lower back. Fleur was right. This is fun.

Hermione’s eyes turn wide and unsure. Ginny grins wickedly at her, before hooking her leg out from under her and dropping her almost to the ground, catching her at the last second.

Hermione squeaks and grabs at her tightly.

Ginny adopts her best Fleur impression. “See, chérie. This is how we dance. It is fun, non?”

She pulls the still startled Hermione up with a smile, and then steps away from her to give the boys a mock bow.

They whistle and cheer, and Ginny turns off the music, climbing back into her seat. Hermione slowly makes her way back to her own.

She sits down and swallows. “Yes. Well. As I suspected. Flirting. Definitely flirting.”

Ginny grins at her. Oh fine! It was flirting!

And then her smile drops.

“But…that’s not a good thing, is it? She was with Bill. They have a kid, my niece! How could she do that to them? How can she do it to them now! They’re a family. Even if they’re divorced now, it’s…it’s too weird. Bill will kill me! Or hate me…I can’t do that to him. It’s just a…a crush. An attraction. It’ll go away…right?”

Strangely it’s Draco that reaches out and takes her hand.

“Look, Weasley. I probably know both of you the least out of anyone at this table. But if I do know anything, it’s that once a crush makes the nine-year mark? It’s more than a crush. And no matter how hard it may be, no matter how many rules you might be breaking, or people you might be upsetting, if there’s a chance she loves you…you have to tell her.”

His eyes slide to Harry, and Ginny squeezes his hand gratefully, letting out a low chuckle.

“Damn it, Ferret, you’re right. Merlin Draco Malfoy is giving me love advice. Thirteen-year-old me would laugh her arse off about this.”

“Good job none of us are seers. We would have driven ourselves mad.”

“Yeah right!” Ron chuckles. “Thank Merlin Trelawney was a nutter. Can you imagine if she looked into your tea leaves and saw you holding hands with Malfoy? Or tangoing with Hermione?”

Ginny barks out a laugh. “Well it would have been pretty useful if she showed me going on a date with Fleur, or Bill being happy for us and talking to me again after all this. That would solve a lot of my worries.”

It gets a bit awkward again. Harry wraps an arm around her. “Don’t think about Bill. They’re divorced, just…ask her. And see what happens. She can decide if it’s too strange or not. At least you’ll know.”

Ginny sighs. “Okay. Okay you’ve all convinced me, I will. Tomorrow, I’ll send her an owl asking to meet up…maybe for coffee, I don’t know.”

She looks up at Harry and he grins at her, getting to his feet with a stretch. “Mission accomplished. Guess it’s time to head on home, Draco, before we drink everything in the place.”

Draco stays sitting down, tapping his lip in thought.

“Uh…Draco?”

He folds his arms at Ginny. “You said you had coffee with her three times. One, Battle of Hogwarts. Two, Argentina. Three…?”

Harry slowly sits back down.

“You sneaky Slytherin, Ginny Weasley. What are you hiding?” Hermione grins.

Oh no…

Chapter Text

Ginny thumps on the door to Shell Cottage.

“Fleur! Fleur, get your arse out here, Fleur!”

She gets no reply. Woah. The sand is rocking. She holds onto the porch.

“Fleur I know you can hear me! Putain, reponds-moi!”

Ginny tries to pull her wand from her sleeve, but it’s stuck on something. Gah, stupid thing. Oh shit!

She loses her balance and falls back onto the sand. The world is spinning.

And then Fleur is glaring down at her, wand pointed at her face.

“Be quiet, you drunk witch! Before I cast a silencio at you. You will wake Victoire. You are lucky I have put a muffiliato charm on her room. If you wake up my child with your shouting, I will hex you into the ocean!”

Ginny lunges upwards and grabs Fleur’s hand, pulling her into the sand and rolling on top of her as she catches the witch by surprise.

“Argh! Ginny, get off. Merde, the sand is everywhere!”

Ginny puts a hand over her mouth. “Shut up! Just shut up, Fleur. I am sick of your stupid mouth, and your words, and your face, and your— that’s all it is, isn’t it? Words. You said you loved him. You promised to be with him forever. You left him. You’ve destroyed him. You’ve broken my brother’s heart you horrible, horrible…”

Tears leak from Fleur’s eyes.

Ginny pulls her hand away. Oh, don’t cry. Shit. Balls. Bollocks, she always gets so angry it’s—

No! She should be angry! Her tears don’t mean anything, she—

Fleur wraps her arms around Ginny.

Oh, stop it! She’s not allowed to do this.

“Oh, ma petite, I know. I am sorry, I have ruined everything, I know,” Fleur sighs shakily into her ear.

“Well. Yeah. You should be sorry,” Ginny grumbles.

“I am. I wish I could change what I feel but…the heart cannot choose, you know? And I have ignored it for too long now, chérie.”

Ginny sits up, looking down at her. “Did you ever love him? Or have you been lying this whole time?”

Fleur tuts and struggles to her feet, trying to brush the sand off and then giving up, pulling Ginny up too and casting a tergeo at them both. Ginny feels her skin squeak clean.

“Of course I loved him, mon feu. You know when I am lying. Come, let’s go inside and have a drink. Only coffee though, m’entends? You have drunk enough alcohol tonight it seems.”

Ginny clings onto her arm as they walk inside. Maybe she has had a bit too much.

“End of match drinks. Just got back from Germany. Someone told me about you and Bill and…maybe I should have gone home.” She looks at Fleur guiltily. She’s wearing a nightgown. She must have been asleep, how late is it?

Fleur pushes her gently into a chair at the kitchen table. “Yes. You should have gone home, to bed, I think.”

She sets the kettle to boil and sits down opposite her, and then a thought seems to cross her mind and she accio’s a vial from the cabinet. A pepper up potion.

She presses it into Ginny’s hand. “For the alcohol,” she grins.

Ginny slugs it back, grimacing, her body beginning to buzz and the room becoming clearer, sharper.

Fleur nods her approval. “But I am glad to see you, mon feu. It has been too long…three months now? In Germany?”

Ginny smiles at her. And then remembers how angry she’s supposed to be. She glares and crosses her arms. “Yep. I’m gone three months, training my arse off, looking forward to coming home to my family, and now Bill’s off in Egypt again. Risking his neck in some cursed pyramid.”

Fleur huffs. “And that is his choice! I do not control him!”

“You pushed him away! Hurt him. He’s run off to get himself killed.”

“He is a man, not a child. He has wanted to be free and off with his adventures for a long time. I think he is happy to go.”

“To leave his child? His wife?”

“I am no longer his wife. And he can see his child whenever he wants. I am here. He knows.”

“So now you’ll just, what? Look after her alone? I thought you wanted to be more than just a mother, Fleur. To do something with your life. You’ll have no time now. No freedom.”

“I had no freedom. That is why I tell him to leave. I felt— I feel— it is— gah je suis enchaînée! Attrapée comme l’oiseau. Dans une cage. Je veux voler!”

The kettle whistles as Fleur’s mouth snaps shut, controlling her breathing.

Ginny swallows. “How is he trapping you, Fleur? Why is it a cage? Why aren’t you free?”

The kettle pours itself into the cafetière, and Fleur hovers it over with a sigh.

“I loved him because he saw me, chérie. Not the outside. The inside. We learnt magic together, saw the world, made discoveries. He was exciting. An adventurer who was never afraid, who turned over every rock, looked in every dark room.”

She shakes her head sadly. “He was not afraid of anything. Not even me. Never. He was comfortable with me. It was like…”

She chuckles. “Like I was normal. He listened, learnt from me too. We challenged each other. But…he loves the adventure too much. He is wild, sauvage. Once he had learnt everything about me, once I was not exciting…his attention was drawn to other things. New adventures. He forgot about all his responsibilities…and they were left to me. All the boring, repetitive, everyday things. I lost who I was. Who we were. I was trapped by all of the things, every day. But what was worse…was the hope that maybe he would realise. See me again. And change. He never did. So I got tired of waiting.”

Ginny stares at Fleur. How could she ever be boring? Fleur makes everything exciting. Even drinking coffee…or eating lunch…or brushing her hair, having a shower.

Bill probably just wants to see the world more, right? Maybe he wants Fleur to go with him, like before. They just had a kid too soon. Probably Mum’s bad influence. The nagging about grandchildren.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, both lost in thought.

Then Fleur sighs and pushes down the plunger in the cafetière, pouring them both a cup distractedly.

Ginny looks down at the cup of coffee in front of her. “I’m home for three months now, before the next season. I can look after Victoire sometimes, if you want. I’ve looked after Teddy before. I can teach her Quidditch…not too high! I promise. Merlin, when I think about how I used to sneak out to the broom shed at her age…”

She looks back up. “Then you’ll have some time to yourself, right? To do something. Anything you want. To find your next dream. I don’t want you to be trapped, Fleur. You deserve some freedom too.”

Fleur studies her, her eyes drifting over Ginny from head to toe and making her fidget. Then she slowly gets to her feet and holds her hand out for Ginny to take, leading her over towards the fireplace.

She adjusts Ginny’s cloak, brushes the hair out of her face, and throws some floo powder into the grate.

“Thank you, mon feu. That is very kind. I would like that.”

She presses a warm kiss to Ginny’s cheek, and then pulls back slightly, searching her eyes. Ginny can’t help but stare back. She’s so close. She can see each eyelash, each shade of blue in her eyes, feel her breath.

And then Fleur sighs and leans in even closer, brushing her lips to Ginny’s softly. Ginny’s breath catches, frozen in place.

Fleur pulls away with a smile. “Oh, ma petite. I think you must go home to bed now. It is too late to think properly.”

She pushes Ginny into the fireplace.

Ginny turns to face her, licking her lips in baffled confusion as Fleur steps back into the living room and out of reach, shaking her head.

Ginny clears her throat. “Ginny’s flat.”

And fire whirls around her, spinning her away.

Hermione walks around the table and starts smacking her over the head with a scroll.

“You. Useless. Bisexual. Witch. Ginevra. Molly. Weasley.”

“Ow! Hermione! Gerroff!”

Hermione huffs and slumps down in her chair. “You could have told us hours ago that she bloody well kissed you six bloody months ago!”

Ron pulls the glasses out of Hermione’s reach, chuckling. Once Hermione starts swearing, there’s usually throwing involved too.

Draco sniggers at her. “I think you’ve broken Granger with your ineptitude. And I thought Harry was unobservant.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at him.

“Can’t believe she kissed you six months ago and you haven’t made a move. What happened to the sister snogging boys in the corridors? Maybe you’re not such a Gryffindor after all.”

Ginny sends a bat-bogey jinx at Ron’s face, which he calmly deflects. Damn. He must have held off on the firewhisky.

Harry gets to his feet. “Alright, alright. Everyone lay off her. Come ‘ere, Gin.”

He opens his arms and she stands up, hugging him. He smells like comfort. Good, kind, safe, Harry.

He pulls back. “Let’s all get some sleep. To quote Fleur, it’s too late to think properly. But I’m expecting an owl tomorrow as soon as she says yes to a date.”

“She might not—”

“—she’ll say yes, Gin. Trust me.”

He hugs Hermione and Ron goodbye too, and Draco raises a hand at her as they walk back to the floo.

“I should probably go too. Get back to the flat and unpack a bit,” Ginny murmurs as she hears the floo go. “Thanks for dinner and…everything. Listening.”

Hermione pulls her into a tight hug. “Thank you for telling us. It was beautiful. She’s lucky to have you, Ginny. And she sounds wonderful. I’m sure she likes you, just ask.”

Ginny pulls back and Ron nods at her, squeezing her shoulder. “Yeah, Gin. Don’t worry about Bill. Or anyone. Go for it.”

She smiles at them both, turning towards the living room. “Thanks. I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow. Let you know what…yeah.”

She takes a shaky breath, stepping into the fire. Tomorrow is gonna be one hell of a day.

It’s ten o’clock in the morning, and Ginny has already been awake for five hours, unable to sleep. She’d taken a pepper up potion as soon as she woke up, so at least the hangover has disappeared. She’d thrown on a jumper and grabbed her broom as soon as the sun came up, soaring into the air and then just sitting there. Watching the sunrise. Just to clear her head. Decide what to do.

So now she’s back on the ground, on her third cup of tea, and surrounded by crumpled parchment as she tries again and again to write a stupid letter. The owl is getting impatient. It keeps staring at her. Judging her.

Ginny throws the latest letter across the room and sets it on fire with an incendio. The owl flaps its wings.

“I know! Alright? I know. It’s not that easy asking your brother’s ex-wife out, you know!”

She sighs. This is hopeless. She’s not good at writing out her thoughts. Normally words just fly out of her mouth, but not onto paper.

Instead she walks over to the mirror, inspecting herself. She looks tired. And even more pale than usual. Great.

She picks up her hairbrush. At least she can do something about her hair. Fleur likes her hair. Maybe. She said it looked magnificent. Like fire.

Okay. That will do. She’s seen you in worse states.

Ginny takes a deep breath, and turns on the spot, apparating away. She’s a Gryffindor. Time for action, not words.

She appears on the beach, wrapping her cloak around her against the wind and casting a warming charm on herself. Please say Fleur is home…

She’s heading towards the front door, when she sees a silvery-blonde head amongst the garden plants. What is the witch up to? She wanders over to see, treading softly.

“Putain! If you do not behave and stop strangling the lavendre je te décapiterai avec des ciseaux émoussés, je jure à Morgane!”

Ginny holds back a laugh as the witch curses at the venomous tentacula sapling. Oh, this is perfect.

“I don’t think that kind of language is appropriate, Miss Delacour. You must stop that before your child hears.”

Fleur freezes and slowly stands up, turning to face her. She’s strangely timid.

“She…Victoire is not here. She is at Andromeda’s. With Teddy.”

The venomous tentacula uses Fleur’s inattentiveness as an opportunity to lunge at her ankle. Ginny petrifies it with a flick of her wand and moves closer.

Fleur swallows. “I did not know…you are home. From Japan. How was the—”

Ginny takes another step forward, closing the distance and pulling Fleur against her by her robes. Then she stops. Waiting.

Fleur lets out a shaky breath. “Do you…do you want to come in for coffee?”

Ginny chuckles lowly. “I don’t like coffee, Fleur.”

A breath sweeps across her face as Fleur laughs quietly. “Maybe you will…if you try. Although I think I prefer tea now. You English. You have grown on me.”

Ginny can’t take it any longer. She’s waited long enough. Her heart is pounding, but she needs to know.

“Fleur…I…you said you shouldn’t ignore your heart, and I don’t want to either. I’ve been blind for so long. I can’t believe…you mean so much to me, Fleur. And I think, I think you like me too, don’t you? I’m scared that…that we’re caught in the spiderwebs. Is this too complicated? He’s my brother, it…” She groans and rests her head against Fleur’s. She sounds so stupid, this stuff is so hard, she can’t get her words out. Can’t even talk let alone say what she means.

Fleur wraps her arms around her with a sigh. “This is very complicated, you are right. But…”

Fleur tilts her head back up, their noses brushing. “But you are also right about…oh about everything. I cannot imagine my life without you, mon feu. When you are here, you light up the room, the sky, the air.”

Ginny feels her breath catch and her heart batter against her ribcage as Fleur continues whispering against her lips.

“You make everything bright, in a world that is sometimes so dark. We have seen real darkness. We are fighters, chérie, champions. So…what can stop us now? I want to fly with you, mon feu. Nothing will stop me. So kiss me. Before I kiss you again, and again, like I have wanted since…oh for so long I cannot remember.”

Oh.

Ginny closes her eyes, and leans in those final few millimetres, pressing her lips to Fleur’s. Oh. Oh this is-

She pulls the witch close to her, a hand threading into her hair and the other around her waist.

Oh this is just as good as she remembers. Better even.

Her lips are just as soft, and this time instead of parting beneath her own they push forwards as Fleur kisses her harder, tugs her closer and sighs into her mouth, kissing her greedily.

Shivers race up and down Ginny’s body and her heart pounds. She loses herself to it. Let’s Fleur kiss her as the world around her disappears.

This is…Merlin, this is almost better than flying.

She’s soaring. High above the clouds.

She pulls back to smile at Fleur. They’re both grinning like idiots. Fleur’s smile is blinding.

Like flying into the sun.