Assignment 4, Women's History, task 11: Write about someone rejecting/rebelling against gender roles and norms

Piñata: hard

Feline, British Shorthair: Write about a Hufflepuff

Disney, King Louis: Write about someone who wants the impossible

Word Count: Write about 1076

"I'm terrified."

Daphne hates admitting her fear. She wishes she could live in a world where everything is fine and she doesn't have to worry about what anyone will think. In the end, she is still a Greengrass. It doesn't matter that her parents are more progressive than most of the older, more traditional families. This is still something they will never understand, will never accept.

Her bright green eyes shift to the dark curls that now form a pile on the floor. Hands trembling, she pushes her slender fingers through the short, choppy hair that's left. It's a messy haircut, but she loves that it gives her that almost stylish, 'just got out of bed' look.

"You don't have to do this," Susan tells her.

A laugh spills from Daphne's lips. She shakes her head. "I… I think I do," she says.

Daphne is so tired of hiding it. She's spent her whole life following the rules and trying so hard to be a perfect daughter, but she can't do it anymore. It's time for her to live her truth, to embrace who she truly is, even if it means failing to live up to their expectations.

It's amazing how empowering a haircut can feel, but, as Daphne studies her reflection, she realizes that she has never felt so alive until this moment. Fear still chills her to the bone, but she decides she will not give in. She will finally be herself.

She takes a step back, studying her outfit—white button-up top, grey trousers with a grey jacket to match. Between it and her newly short hair, she could almost be mistaken for a boy, if not for her delicate nose and cheekbones. With a grin, she turns to her girlfriend, holding her arms out. "Well? How do I look?"

Susan returns the grin as she moves closer and presses a soft kiss to Daphne's lips. "Handsome," she answers.

Daphne still has trouble accepting that word in reference to herself. It doesn't matter that she has embraced who she is and learned to love herself; there's still a part of her mind that thinks that handsome is meant for boys.

"It's now or never," she says.

And she wishes it could be never. Maybe it's cowardly, but she is far from being a Gryffindor. All she wants is to keep her secret and run away with Susan.

"I wish you would let me come with you," Susan says. "I want to be there when you do this."

Daphne caresses Susan's freckled cheek and offers her a shaky quirk of her lips. It isn't quite a smile—she is still far too anxious to manage that—but it's the best she can do. "I'll be fine," she says, and she's amazed that she sounds stronger than she feels.

…

"What were you thinking?" her father demands, dark brows knitting together as he gestures wildly at Daphne. "You used to be such a pretty girl!"

"I didn't transform into a boy with one haircut," Daphne says with a shrug of her slender shoulders.

Her words seem to go unheard. Her parents look at one another because Daphne no longer seems to matter. She is little more than a disgrace in their eyes now, and she is hardly worth their time at all.

When her mother finally looks at her—wincing, as though the very sight of the eldest Greengrass girl causes her physical pain—there's some mix between pity and desperation in her emerald eyes. "There are spells that can fix your hair," she insists. "You can still find a husband before it's too late."

Daphne scowls. A husband. Even though her grandfather put an end to the arranged marriage tradition, there's still such a great emphasis on how important it is that she is married off. To her parents, her only goals should be to find a husband, be a good little housewife, and have a few kids. They don't care if she has dreams of her own.

"I don't want a husband."

"Don't be silly. You're a young woman; of course you want a husband," her father insists.

"I really don't," Daphne assures him, scrubbing her hand over the back of her neck. "I'm not sure that my girlfriend would be happy with me if I got married to someone other than her."

The silence that follows is almost painful. Daphne's heart beats so hard that she is afraid it might burst from her chest. Somehow, she manages to keep her head held high, refusing to back down. Inside, she trembles, but she will not let them see how terrified she truly is.

"Your—"

"Girlfriend," Daphne repeats with a nod. "Susan Bones. We've been pretty serious for about four years now, and I don't see it changing any time soon."

Another beat of silence. Her father tugs at the salt-and-pepper curls of his beard, his pale cheeks darkening to a deep pink. Her mother has grown sickly pale and looks like she might faint.

"It's just a phase," her father says, and his tone is half dismissive, half hopeful.

"It's not. We're also not planning on having kids in the near future. We'd both like to establish our careers first," Daphne continues. "See, she's working in Magical Law Enforcement like her aunt, and I've just accepted a job as a Curse Breaker."

"That's an inappropriate career for a girl."

Daphne straightens her posture, pushing her shoulders back. "I'm not a girl," she says, turning her back to them. "I'm a woman."

As she begins to walk away, she hears her mother cry while her father screams. She doesn't turn around. It hurts like hell, but she keeps walking and doesn't look back.

…

"How'd it go?" Susan asks, abandoning the flowers she's tending to and wiping the dirt from her hands onto her jeans as she walks forward.

Daphne swallows dryly. She doesn't have an answer. On one hand, she knows her family will never talk to her again. Astoria probably will, because she's always been Daphne's greatest supporter. Her relationship with her parents, however, has been broken beyond repair. On the other hand, she has finally found the courage to live her own life and stop letting expectations limit the things she does.

She shrugs before nodding towards the rope swing attached to the elm tree in their backyard. "Can I have a push on the swing?"

Susan stands on her tiptoes, kissing her gently. "Of course."