To Love Without Role
AN: This story came to me in a fit of anger against my stepmother. She quit her job and now lives off her husband's (my father) money, and is just a consort, just an adornment on his arm at parties, instead of a complete woman. I am sorry if this story offends anyone, I don't like to judge anyone or form preconceptions, and my only intent on writing this fic is to remind all girlies around here who might read this that having a husband and a family isn't the only way to be, not in the 21st century. Too many women before us have fought hard to get us the privileges of getting jobs, voting and etc, for us to concentrate only in our external appearances, men, dating and "planning on having three children when I grow up". I hope this raises some people's self-esteem, that's why this fic was born, to make us see how beautiful and free and happy we can be by ourselves! Girl power! Lol!
By the way, this fic is dedicated to my stepmother Linnet. I hope you get over your depression at having nothing to do all day except taking care of the children, and get that job you have your eye on.
Disclaimer: All characters are disclaimed to J.K. Rowling. I only came up with the plot.
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"To love without role, without powerplay, is revolution." Rita Mae Brown
Ginny Weasley walked out of the conference room…no, actually, she bounced out of the conference room, clutching her attaché case close to her chest. She had a wide grin plastered on her face and a faraway look in her eyes. She got out of the university and crossed the street, entering a quaint coffee shop. The bell hanging from the door made a tinkle, and the smell of coffe and chocolate entered Ginny's nostrils, which made her mouth water a bit.
"Hi, can I have a cappuccino and a chocolate croissant, please?" she said to the usual girl behind the counter. Ginny went there a lot, now she worked at the university. It was the intellectual hot spot, every philosophy student, and alike went there to discuss their academic matters and the Literature students recited poems. It was very cliché, and that's why she liked it so much.
"In a jiffy" said the waitress, cheerfully. "Hm, you've got a glint in your eyes. I wonder why you have got this glint in your eyes. May this glint in your eyes be caused by a special someone?"
The smile on Ginny's lips faded slightly. Probably the glint she had in her eyes, too.
"Yes, as a matter of fact. The Head. He and the rest of the Sociology department and guests enjoyed my homily very much. Standing ovation. Now I get to conduct a research about women in the third world, backed by the Uni."
The girl looked at Ginny with pity. "I'll be right back with your order", she said.
Ginny grabbed a seat by the counter and sighed. How could she complain about sexist men when it was mainly the women themselves who fed the stereotypes? Why did everytime a girl was happy people thought it was because of a man? Last night went well, huh, they'd say. Yes, Ginny would sigh merrily because of boys sometimes, as everyone, but that wasn't her only, or main, concern. Like a song said, she had more on her head than what's made by Paul Mitchell.
She didn't get this from home, though. Formidable as her own mother was, her only concern had been the household, her entire life. Ginny thought that was all right, Molly heard "the calling", but this just wasn't for her. Her mother made sure all of her children got a good upbringing, as good as she and her husband could offer, but she still had biased ideas, of how a girl should behave, of the kind of job her children ought to have, and everyone's position in the world. Nothing anyone would say could make her see that some people like to choose their jobs, their outfits and the sex of their companions by themselves. But nevermind. She was still a good mother, although Ginny was terrified of spending her whole life just cooking, changing diapers and doing the laundry. Every woman has a choice, she just didn't choose this one; she wasn't going to criticise her mother, as she expected her mother not to criticise her.
Her friend Luna was exactly the opposite of her mother. She graduated on Care of Magical Creatures, and now travels around researching new animals and writing about them. She is currently working with Professor Newt Scamander on a new revised edition of his book Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them, which will include the Crumple Horned Snorckack, the Blibbering Humdinger and the Heliopaths, now that she's found actual proofs of their existence. She dated Colin Creevey at school and Ginny's brother Charlie when she spent time at his dragons' reserve, doing work experience. She is now in a serious relationship with a Finnish girl called Kaisa, whom she met in one of her trips. Her father is very proud of her work, and is sure she will be a worthy successor to run the Quibbler. She has many friends of all kinds, from famous writers to hippy singers, and sees no distinction among them at all, that's why Ginny admires her so much.
Hermione is the best example of a woman who managed to conciliate a successful career with motherhood. She owes it big to her wonderful husband, who washes up when she cooks, does the laundry when she cleans the house and washes one baby when she washes the other. Amazingly, this guy is Ronald Weasley.
"Yesterday, I arrived at 3am, and all I wanted was to put my feet up and have a cuppa, before going to bed", Hermione told her the other day. "Two seconds after I had sat on the couch, someone started crying. Before I so much as moaned, Ron was out of bed and soothing whoever it was that was crying. He says he hasn't forgotten the month I spent alone with the two, while he was after Greyback and his gang in Ireland." When his dunderhead friends take the piss calling him a pouf, he just says that he's lucky to have such a smart and politically engaged wife, and he is proud to have an active part in his children's upbringing. Ginny must admit that she had never thought her brat of a brother would become such a charming man. Maybe all of the times she kicked his ass for being a prat helped, she laughs to herself while she stirs her cappuccino.
Sadly, most people don't understand people like Luna, who sees no difference between men and women, rich and poor, and Ron, who sees no difference between husband's chores and wife's chores. Even when they say they're open minded, they still let out comments like "Look at the way she dresses, look at the job she has, it doesn't even look like she's a woman!" or "He didn't even open the car door for me, and we split the bill 50/50." OK, nice gestures and chivalry are pleasant, but did you open the car door to him? Why is it his duty to open it for you? People laugh when questioned like this, but they have no arguments to support their views, and don't like it when they come off as conventional; if their minds were really open, Ginny mused, they wouldn't dismiss my questions so easily, they just never thought of the matter this way. Some things are so rooted in our society's customs that people rarely pay any attention to them, let alone question them.
Harry's soon-to-be-ex girlfriend Parvati was one of these people. She got upset every time Harry didn't pull her chair for her when she was about to sit, or forgot their first-kiss anniversary, and threw a tantrum when he announced he was going over to Seamus' to watch the game. That was (thank God, in Ginny's opinion) the last straw. Harry was meeting her tonight to say that he wanted to have a balanced, healthy relationship, not something where he felt imprisoned, and if their interests were clashing, they should stop seeing each other. That was Harry-speak for I-want-a-girlfriend-not-a-dictator, but he was way too sweet to put it that way. Parvati would probably want him to propose soon, and Harry had confided in Ginny that the last thing he wanted was a girl wearing an enormous diamond on her finger, and showing off to her friends how she was now Mrs. Potter. Harry had a problem (and Ginny agreed) with women who shed their last names to become Mrs. Whatever; in their opinion, it was a symbol of how she was letting go of her old self to become a wife. Not a woman, a wife.
Ron and Hermione were hinting very hopefully that, now that Harry and her were both single, they could give it another try. But they both laughed it off; they liked each other too much as friends, and were proud that they could maintain a woman-man friendship, without other intentions. And anyway, Ginny had just got out of a relationship and wasn't looking. She and David had parted in good terms, no resentments, and she was happy it had gone that way.
"Excuse me," a voice said next to her, bringing her out of her reverie. She looked at the source of the voice and saw a guy a few years younger than her eyeing her hopefully. A few feet away, the waitress shot her dirty looks while wiping a glass dry. She had obviously been trying to chat the guy up. He wore colourful woolly scarves and a French-looking bonnet. He appeared to be one of those poets who sat for hours at the café, searching for inspiration.
Ginny wondered if he was going to hit on her.
"You're Ginevra Weasley" he said, sounding startled. "I heard that you came here often, but I'd never had the luck to bump into you. I study your work, I really like it. I specifically liked the essay you wrote about Simone de Beauvoir, and your projections for the future of the British Wizarding community. I must say I agree with you on all accounts. And I can't believe you met Wangari Maathai! It's such an honor!" Ginny waited for him to finish with a small smile on her face. So, he not only wasn't going to chat her up, but he was a connoisseur of her work.
"Oh, but I'm sorry. I'm Nicholas Shambrook, I don't think I'd introduced myself" Ginny laughed at his blushing. He looked at a table nearby, where several people his age were staring at them expectantly. Pride and hope for the future rose inside her chest like a giant bubble, and she gently steere Nicholas towards his friends' table, excusing herself before sitting down with them.
"I can't begin to say how elated I am that a young man like you appreciates my work"
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AN:I hope someone liked this humble piece, and that it wasn't too boring, lackluster or useless. By the way, I thought that there are Sociologists, Philosophers and Poets in the Wizarding world too. I don't know if there really are, but it seemed possible to me. Oh, and the quotation "I've got more on my head than what's made by Paul Mitchell" is from a song by Kendall Payne. Simone de Bauvoir was a French feminist philosopher, and Wangari Maathai is a Nobel Prize laureate who fights for women's rights and environment preservation.
If you have praise or criticism or anything, send it to me, please. If you are against my views, we can civilly discuss it! ) Just don't be rude, please. Thanks!