Over the Rainbow

That year, Mrs. Weasley invited both Harry and Hermione to the Burrow for Christmas. It was the first year they'd actually had room for them all to stay at the Burrow, since Percy, Fred, and George had all moved out.

Despite having an empty room - Percy's old room had been converted into a study (which had basically involved removing the bed) in an attempt to distance the Weasleys from his memory - Harry still decided to share a room with Ron, saying that the twins undoubtedly had their old bedroom booby trapped (which was probably true) and Hermione opted to stay in Ginny's room for the same reason.

They ate dinner early on Christmas Eve and, eager to open their presents, the four children went straight to bed instead of staying up talking or playing wizard chess like they usually did.

Sometime during the night, it began to snow, fat, white flakes falling from the black sky to cover the earth with white, and in the morning, after opening their presents and eating a quick breakfast, the four children ran outside for a snowball fight.

Teaming up boys against girls, they spent hours charming wads of wet snow to fly through the air at each other, until Mrs. Weasley called them inside for a small lunch. As they ate lunch, Fred and George arrived with more gifts and Charlie showed up a few minutes later.

After they finished eating, the seven children when outside again for a game of Quidditch. They even let Ginny play, after she reminded them how she had helped Gryffindor clobber the Slytherin team earlier that year. Hermione declined to play, but after some badgering from Ron and Harry, she agreed to referee.

Ginny couldn't help grinning smugly when Charlie expressed his amazement at her skill, commenting that he'd never even seen her fly a broom before. Another time she might have been insulted by that and have scathingly pointed out that that was because he had never let her play with them before, but she was having far too much fun to feel insulted by anything.

Bill arrived with his girlfriend, Fleur, in time for a second game. Bill was happy to join them, though Fleur refused to play, instead watching from the ground and cheering them on.

Ginny did her best not to be distracted by the two beautiful girls watching their game, doing a somewhat better job than her brothers.

By the time they came inside, it was getting dark out and Mrs. Weasley had finished making dinner.

At the table, Ginny found herself sandwiched between Hermione and Fleur, and she couldn't decide if she was glad or not. Part of her was thrilled to be sitting between two attractive girls, but their proximity served as a constant reminder of what she was, and she was absolutely terrified that she would do something to give herself away.

She felt like she was sitting at a table of unsuspecting Muggles or something, trying desperately to hide that she was a witch, but not sure how. Only she wasn't trying to conceal that she was a witch, but something worse, much worse. That she was lesbian.

No, she shouldn't think about that. If she did, someone would notice how distracted she was for sure, and she really didn't want to deal with that.

"Hey, Ginny, you're taking divination this year, right?" Bill asked from across the table.

Ginny nodded.

Charlie made a face. "I hated divination. Trelawney was such a flake, always predicting everyone's deaths."

"Isn't Firenze teaching it now?" Fred asked. "Or did Dumbledore bring Trelawney back this year?"

"Trelawney's back," Ron said dully. "Batty old cow."

"Ron," Mrs. Weasley said sharply. "Don't speak that way about your teachers."

"It's not like anyone forced you to take divination," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh, she isn't that bad anymore," Ginny said.

"Are you kidding?" Harry asked, appalled. "She spent the entire first month predicting Umbridge's death."

"At least she wasn't predicting yours," Hermione said.

"And her imagery's been getting pretty creative lately," Ginny said. "What was it she told me the day before we left? We were reading tea leaves again, for fun, and she told me that mine meant that 'a toad-like woman in pink who has done Great Evil will never see another Christmas, for she will trip walking down the stairs Christmas morning. She will fall down the stairs, and break her legs and arms among other things. Then she will crash into a table at the foot of the stairs and split her head open and her brains would come tumbling out, if only she had them. But since she doesn't, their loss won't kill her. However, above her house, drops of fire will rain down from the sky, igniting her home and burning her alive. Each drop will burrow beneath her ugly, wart-covered flesh, consuming her until she is naught but a pile of sizzling, smoldering fat. And she will scream as she dies, and weep, and call upon God for forgiveness, but He shall not listen. And not even the devil himself will accept her, so she will be forced to wander the earth for the rest of eternity, suffering in eternal pain and loneliness, for none shall allow them to haunt their house. And her flesh shall forever burn her, and her mind will be filled with the memory of her death, over and over again for the rest of eternity.' Or something like that. I think she was going to continue, but class was over."

George grinned. "I still think my idea of her getting food poisoning and exploding was more fun."

"Ew." Hermione made a face. "I'm eating here."

"So am I," George said.

"What was your other elective?" Charlie asked.

"Arithmancy," Ginny said.

"Isn't zat difficult?" Fleur asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Yeah, but it's fun." And Hermione helps me with it, so it's worth sitting through a few hours of utter confusion every week.

Fleur gave her an odd look, and Ginny felt her stomach clench. What if Fleur could read her thoughts? Could veela do that? She thought she remembered something about veela having some sort of telepathic abilities, or was that mermaids? Oh god, what if Fleur knew? What if she could read Ginny's thoughts? What if she told Bill? What if Fleur could tell just by looking at her? What if they all could? What if they all knew already?

Her own thoughts felt suddenly horrifyingly loud in her head, as though anyone who listened could hear them loud and clear and know everything she thought or felt.

No, they couldn't read her mind. Well, maybe Fleur could, but the rest couldn't. And it wasn't like she looked gay or anything. She wasn't entirely sure what a gay person was supposed to look like, but she didn't look any different from everyone else, did she? She didn't dress gay, or act gay. Well, except for playing Quidditch, but lots of girls played Quidditch. Like Katy Bell and Madam Hooch and Angelina Johnson. And they weren't gay, were they? No, Katy had dated Fred for a while, and while she didn't know about Madam Hooch, Ginny was pretty sure that Angelina had a boyfriend too.

But what about all the times Mum talked to me about boys? Could she tell that I wasn't interested? Oh my god, what if she knows? What if that's why she keeps bringing it up? What if--

No, she doesn't know. Oh, please don't let her know....

After dessert, they opened her brothers' presents, and then Ginny excused herself and went up to bed. She didn't really want to be around anyone just then. Their talk seemed to have shifted to who was dating who and who the hottest celebrities were, which was making her decidedly uncomfortable. And when Charlie had asked her if she was still dating Michael Corner....

She had told him as nonchalantly as she could that no, she had dumped him and no, she didn't have another boyfriend yet, and the discussion had moved on, but she had been left feeling very much like an outsider.

Now she lay on her bed, facing the wall, not quite crying, and wondering what was wrong with her. Why she couldn't just be normal, like everyone else?

She was so absorbed in her depression that she didn't even notice when the door opened. She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder and rolled over to see Fleur sitting delicately on the edge of her bed.

Ginny blinked at the girl in confusion, trying her best to ignore her pale ivory skin, ice blue eyes, the silken waterfall of platinum blond hair spilling gracefully over her perfect, delicate shoulders. Tried to focus her gaze on that beautiful face and not her plunging neckline and those full, soft breasts. Tried not to lose herself in those enchanting, hypnotic blue eyes or the soft, shiny pinkness of her small lips.

Her nose. If Ginny could just focus on her beautiful, small, proud nose...

"What--?"

"Are you okay?" Fleur asked softly. "You looked--troubled--when you left."

"I'm fine," Ginny whispered.

Fleur reached out, gently brushing a tear from Ginny's cheek. Ginny hadn't realized she'd actually been crying. "You're crying, Ginny. What eez wrong?"

Ginny shook her head. "Nothing. I'm fine."

Fleur sighed, studying Ginny with concern. "'Ermione is a nice girl, eezn't she?"

Ginny's mouth went dry. "I guess," she said. Did Fleur know? Oh god, had she noticed Ginny watching Hermione? Had Hermione noticed?

"You know, zere eez no'zing wrong wiz liking girls."

Ginny tensed, looking down. "I don't ... like girls."

She felt Fleur's cool, soft fingers touch her chin, tilting her head upwards.

"Zere is no'zing wrong with it," Fleur repeated.

Like hell there isn't, Ginny thought bitterly. "I'm not...."

"Ginny? Look at me."

Ginny reluctantly met Fleur's eyes.

"Do you like 'Ermione?"

"As a friend."

"As more zan a friend? Look at me, and tell me ze truth."

Ginny met Fleur's eyes again. I'm not gay. But somehow, looking into Fleur's eyes, Ginny couldn't bring herself to lie.

"Do you love her?"

Ginny nodded, the slight movement seeming to be the biggest, most dangerous thing she'd ever done. She was half afraid at any moment, her entire family would come rushing into her bedroom to see her admit her shame. And Fleur....

Why the hell did I just do that? Now she knows. She must think I'm so gross now. I am such an idiot.

Ginny stared intently at her hands, not daring to look up for fear of the disgust and hatred she would see in Fleur's eyes.

"Ginny," Fleur said again, sounding more annoyed and amused than anything else. "Will you please look at me?"

Ginny looked up, dreading what she would see in Fleur's face. But Fleur wasn't disgusted, nor had she made any attempt to move away from Ginny. In fact, she was smiling kindly, her eyes filled not with hatred but with compassion. "I told you, zere eez no'zing wrong wiz being gay, or wiz you. Zee only zing zat 'is a problem eez a world where you are ashamed of your love."

Ginny managed to smile slightly, feeling as though the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Are you all right now?" Fleur asked.

Ginny nodded. "Not that you believed me last time." But she did feel better now, better than she'd felt in ages. For the first time in years, there was a small voice at the back of her head telling her that maybe, just maybe, there really was nothing wrong with her.

Fleur smiled. "I'm going back downstairs. Do you want to come?"

Ginny shook her head. She might be feeling better, but there was no way she could face her family.

"Okay. Well, good night."

"Good night. Oh, and Fleur?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you please not tell anyone?" Ginny asked.

Fleur nodded, smiling. "Of course not."

"Thanks." Ginny watched Fleur leave, then lay back on her bed. For a long time she lay awake, her mind too busy thinking about admitting the truth to her family to let her sleep.

****

When Ginny woke, it was morning. Hermione must already be up, because Ginny was alone. Downstairs, she could hear people laughing and talking, and the scent of eggs wafted up from the kitchen. Ginny's mouth watered at the thought of breakfast, and she quickly climbed out of bed.

Then she remembered her conversation with Fleur last night and froze. What if Fleur had told everyone? Yes, she had said that she wouldn't, but what if she'd been lying? And what if they knew anyways? What if Fred and George had been hiding outside her room, eager to go tell everyone the truth? What if they had told Fleur to come talk to her, so they could get Ginny to confess her feelings and then tell everyone about it? What if they'd all been spying on her?

Okay, now you're just being paranoid, she told herself firmly. But that didn't do anything to dissipate her fears. She slowly pulled on her clothes, gathering her courage. Normally, she would have simply gone down in her nightgown, but right now she felt naked enough without actually being in her nightgown.

The walk downstairs to the kitchen was the longest she'd ever taken, except perhaps the walk to Potions last year when she'd forgotten to write her final essay. The sounds of her family fooling around in the kitchen were a death march to her ears, the scent of breakfast cooking far more frightening than the moldy scent of the dungeons.

Every step took her closer to facing her family and their horror as they realized what their daughter truly was. By the time she reached the bottom of the steps, she was convinced that all they would have to do was look at her and they would know.

She walked into the kitchen, fully expecting everyone to stop and stare at her in horror, as though the word 'dyke' was written in bold letters across her forehead. She suppressed the sudden impulse to run into the bathroom to check and make sure it really wasn't; that was just the kind of thing Fred and George would do.

Everyone was in the kitchen, Ginny realized in horror. Even Ron and Harry, who usually didn't get up until noon if they had a choice. Oh hell.

"Hey look, Ginny's finally up," Charlie said, laughing.

"Good, she can set the table," Mrs. Weasley said, shooting an annoyed glance at Fred, who was standing by the cupboard with a stack of plates hovering over his head.

"Come on, Mum," Fred protested. "I'm not going to break them, I promise. I just want to try something."

"Not with my china," their mother said firmly. "Ginny, will you please go liberate the dishes from your brother?"

Ginny smiled weakly, relief and disappointment washing over her.

"Fine, be that way," Fred muttered, letting the plates clatter onto the counter with a crash made everyone wince. But amazingly enough, nothing was broken.

Ginny set the table in silence, half expecting someone to ask her about Hermione at any moment. But even Fleur was acting as though nothing had changed.

As they ate breakfast, Ginny absently watched Hermione, noticing, not for the first time, how methodically she ate. First she ate her eggs, then her sausage, then her toast, then her bacon, and finally she drank her milk. Ginny tended to just eat whatever happened to be closest to her fork.

After breakfast, Ginny's brothers left. Before going, Fleur walked over to Ginny. She was holding a small package.

"I realized zat I didn't get you a Christmas present," Fleur said, ignoring the fact that she and Bill had given everyone a gift the previous night. "So I bought you one zis morning."

"Oh, you really didn't need to," Ginny protested.

Fleur pressed the package into Ginny's hands. "'Appy Christmas," she said firmly.

Ginny sighed, accepting the gift. "Thanks."

Fleur smiled. "Oh, and you might want to open it when you are alone."

Ginny nodded, wondering what on earth it could be.

They all said their good-byes and a moment later, Fleur vanished with a loud pop along with Bill.

When her brothers were gone, Ginny hurried upstairs to open her gift.

It was a book.

The cover was almost exactly like that of the romance novels her mother bought her that she hated so much, with one difference. Instead of having a boy and girl, the cover depicted two young girls dressed in school robes and smiling lovingly at each other.

Ginny looked up to make sure the door was closed, then opened the book and started reading.

Hours later, Ginny jumped at the sound of the door opening. She hurriedly shoved the book under her pillow and looked over to see Hermione come in.

"Hey Ginny," Hermione said.

Ginny smiled, suppressing her annoyance at having been interrupted in her reading, which surprised her. She was usually glad of an interruption when she was reading.

"Hi. Did you want something?"

"Ron and Harry are playing wizard chess," Hermione said by way of explanation.

Ginny nodded. "Hey, you want to go flying or something while they're playing?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "All right."

Outside the air was cool. The two girls flew high over the trees and the Burrow, reveling in the feeling of the wind blowing through their hair.

Harry and Ron had been discussing something involving life-sized chess pieces shaped like veela when Ginny had passed them, which explained Hermione's lack of interest in their game.

Actually, said a small voice at the back of Ginny's head, it's not such a bad idea. Ginny firmly told the voice to shut the hell up.

Trying not to think about chess games and naked veela, Ginny found herself instead thinking about Fleur and the book. Which, she realized, was still thinking about veela. Turning her thoughts from veela entirely, she found herself watching Hermione. Which, she decided wasn't quite the same as thinking about veela. Hermione was far more attractive than any veela.

Hermione's flying skills had improved with practice, though she would never be a champion Quidditch player or anything.

Still, it made Ginny proud to know that it had been her, and only her, who could persuade Hermione to try flying and selfishly pleased to know that Hermione still refused to go flying with anyone other than Ginny.

After a while, Harry and Ron finished their chess game and came outside with their brooms to join them in the sky.

****

On the last night before they returned to Hogwarts, Ginny lay awake for a long time. She didn't want to go back to school, didn't want to give up the time she had with Hermione. Didn't want to give up falling asleep in the bed next to her every night.

When she thought Hermione was sleeping, she sat up on her elbow and studied Hermione's face. She was beautiful, so much more beautiful than Ginny with her freckles and ugly, red hair and too-long limbs and tiny breasts.

Watching her, Ginny didn't want to lie to Hermione any more. She wanted to tell her that she loved her. More than anything else in the world, she wanted to tell Hermione that she loved her and just then, she didn't care what Hermione thought or how much she hated Ginny because of it. She just wanted to get it off her chest.

But Hermione was sleeping, and anyway, Ginny wasn't even sure how she would tell her. What would she say? How could she put the thoughts and feelings that had been consuming her for so long into words that the other witch might understand? She had no idea.

Ginny watched Hermione for a long time before rolling over and falling into an uneasy sleep.

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