Chapter Thirty-Six: Madam Puddifoot's

The first day of Christmas break, one of the school owls swooped down towards my seat, a letter tied to her leg. I untied it, gave her a piece of melon, and broke the seal.

Miss Carmichael:

Due to an unavoidable commitment, I will be absent from school until the start of term. We will discuss your lesson plans when I get back. Until then, please feel free to use my lab and stores; I've left a few books for you to look at. The password is "Aconite", but that will only work for you—I'm sure I don't have to tell you not to invite anyone else in.

Sincerely,

Professor S. Snape

As I reread the letter, an unfamiliar owl dropped a thick envelope onto my bacon. I rescued it, tried to ignore the fact that that the parchment was now half-covered in syrup and grease, and tore it open.

Dear Lydia,

Like the new pet? My aunt Emily got her for me. I've named her Andrea, and she's supposed to be able to make trans-Atlantic flights faster than any other owl, ever. So I hope this gets to you fast.

Anyway, winter vacation starts soon and I can't wait. Mom says we're going to visit my aunt and uncle and cousins, and they're usually good about ignoring the whole "no magic where Muggles might see!" thing. Muggles never see, and even if they do, it's not like they can tell anyone. Besides, it's restricting wizarding rights! And one of the girls in my dorm says there's even international pressure to make us pass some stupid law restricting underage magic out of school. (It's already restricted, of course, but it's not like it's enforced. But apparently there's this trace thing that people use in other countries, where they can tell if someone under seventeen does magic off school grounds. They don't do that in England, do they? How do you survive? It can't be legal, can it? What about the right to privacy?!)

Anyway, what do you want for Christmas? Or Solstice? Or whatever it is you're celebrating? As long as it's not too too heavy I can get it to you over the ocean, I think. (If you were wondering, do you think you could get me some good English tea? I promise not to throw it in the ocean or anything.) Are you looking forward to vacation? I definitely can't wait—I'm so sick of working. Bleh.

So I think I'm going to get going now, because it's time for dinner and I don't want to miss it—I had to miss lunch to cram for a test in herbology and I'm starving. Write back soon, please! (Andrea will probably want to chill in your owlery for a while, so she can take your letter back if you hurry a little. And could you maybe give her a treat and tell her she's a good owl?)

Write back!

Meg

I looked up to see Andrea pecking at my bacon. "Oh, stop that," I muttered, glaring at her. "I don't even think bacon is good for you, owl. Aren't you supposed to be eating mice?"

Andrea nipped me affectionately on the wrist before flying off with the last of my bacon. I rolled my eyes. "Can you believe that?"

"Believe what?" Cameron asked, looking curiously up at me from his pancakes and spearing another sausage with his fork. "Who's the letter from?"

"My penfriend," I told him. "That was her owl you didn't notice stealing all of my bacon. Did you know that apparently there's no restriction on underage wizardry in the States?"

"Seriously?" Cameron asked. "And Evan's there now. Lucky bastard." He shook his head in envy, and then stopped. "Wait…where is everybody? Was it this empty last year?"

I shrugged. "It's the first morning of break, Cam, people are sleeping in. And anyway, everybody who can has gone home—there are what, five Slyths staying?"

"Four," Cameron corrected mournfully. "And Marissa left too."

"Really?"

"I would know, wouldn't I?" Cameron snapped.

"Er, yes, of course you would, it's just that that looks like her coming in with Pernella—" I started, nodding towards the entrance to the Great Hall. Two girls—one redheaded and one with light blond hair—were walking through the doors. "Isn't that them?"

Cameron looked, squinted, and then grinned. "Go figure. Marissa!" he called once she'd gotten close enough to hear. "I thought you were ditching me to go spend Christmas with your parents?"

"I was," she replied, sliding into the seat on Cameron's other side as Pernella sat down across from me. "Then Pernella wanted to stay here…and I thought it might be nice to spend some alone time with my boyfriend."

"Oooh," I cooed. "Alone time? Aw, that's so sweet. Isn't it sweet, Pernella?"

"Like candy," Pernella agreed. "You two are nauseating. Please, Lydia, tell me there are normal people staying this break?"

I looked around the sole table. Two seventh years were comparing notes and talking earnestly, and a couple of fifth-year boys were talking loudly about the Chudley Cannons. "Doesn't look promising," I told her.

"That's so depressing," she said, pushing her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose. "Why isn't anyone else in our year staying?"

"Axel is," Marissa answered, interrupting her passionate staring contest with Cameron.

"Seriously?" Pernella replied. "Why?"

I turned toward Marissa, wondering about his reasons as well. Everyone knew Axel—he was the son of a Swedish count and countess (apparently they lived in a castle), and also rumored to be involved in the raising and selling of certain illicit plants and potions. The headmistress had apparently called him into her office twice to talk with Ministry officials, but his father had paid for a top defense attorney and all Vector had been able to do was ban him from the greenhouses for a month.

"Well," Marissa started, drawing the word out. "What I heard was that he'd gotten into serious trouble with the Ministry—I mean really serious, they caught him trying to smuggle stuff out of the country—and his father's angry like you wouldn't believe. So Axel's elected to stay…mostly, I think, because the DCIMPP won't let him go."

"DCIMPP?" I repeated. "What's that?"

"Department for the Control of Illicit Magical Plants and Potions," Pernella explained. "I think they've got a different one for charms."

"That's insane," Cameron said. "Do you think he's still selling?"

"I would assume not," Marissa told him pointedly. "Since the Ministry is suspicious. And they'll be suspicious of anyone who looks like they're buying, too—and you don't have a father in the aristocracy to get you a lawyer."

"Have you bought stuff from him before?" I asked, partly because it felt awkward to talk about Cameron's lack of parents with Marissa, who wasn't an orphan, but mostly because I was curious. The idea of Cameron doing drugs wasn't surprising, exactly, but I was surprised anyway. I didn't know that people in my year—people I knew—were using illegal drugs.

"Once or twice," he said with a shrug. "But you need more money than I've got for the really good stuff, and there are charms that work just as well for what I can pay."

"What if you get caught?" I asked.

"Or killed?" Marissa asked cheerfully.

"Or arrested?" Pernella suggested.

"Then I'd be caught, killed, and arrested," Cameron agreed. "Although probably not in that order."

"Are you sure?" Pernella asked. "Can they arrest a ghost?"

"Maybe," Marissa said thoughtfully. "I mean, they might have a hard time holding it, but…I guess you could arrest it?"

"You're such Ravenclowns," he said, rolling his eyes. "Who cares if you can arrest ghosts?"

"Oh, shut it," Pernella snapped. "If you weren't dating my best friend I'd smack you."

Cameron merely grinned. "We should go to Hogsmeade this afternoon," he suggested. I had assumed he was talking to Marissa, but Pernella answered instead.

"Excellent idea. I know I still have shopping to do."

OOOOOOO

That was how I ended up in Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, desperately making small talk with Pernella while Marissa and Cameron held hands and fed each other pieces of cake.

"This is revolting," I said finally. "Pernella, do you want to go somewhere else?"

"Yes, definitely," she said, jumping up. "Otherwise I'm going to throw up."

I wasn't even sure, as we walked out, that Marissa and Cameron had noticed. "This is getting ridiculous," I grumbled.

"Seriously. And she thinks that everyone needs a boyfriend," Pernella added, crossing her arms. "I don't need a bloody boyfriend, and I wish she'd get that through her head."

I nodded fervently. "It's like the whole world's like that suddenly. Alicia won't stop raving about John, and even Maddison has started talking about boys…not that she thinks anyone's good enough for her, of course, but still. And now Marissa and Cameron…it's irritating when they've broken up, but it's like it's even worse when they're together, because then they think we should all be." I hesitated a moment. "And kissing boys? The whole idea…"

"I know," Pernella said calmly. "It's gross. They're so…I don't know. Uncouth."

"Uncouth?" I repeated. "Merlin, you really are a Ravenclaw."

"I'm serious," she protested. "I mean, don't you ever think about kissing—I mean, you know, not kissing boys?"

I turned to stare at her. We'd reached the end of the alley, and Pernella shrugged as we turned. "Never mind."

"No—I mean, yes, I do, sometimes," I stuttered, wondering if she meant what I thought she meant.

"Me too," Pernella said quietly after a moment. "Maybe…we could try it?" The question took me by surprise; I wasn't sure I liked Pernella—well, I liked her, I just didn't know if I like liked her—and I was vaguely sure some sort of declaration of interest was supposed to come before snogging, but maybe it was different with lesbians.

I looked around. The alleyway was deserted, and there were no windows where anyone could see us. Pernella was watching me anxiously, but she didn't look scared. My own heart was pounding about a hundred times faster than normal as I nodded. Pernella leaned slowly in towards me, and suddenly our lips were touching.

It felt a little awkward – I wasn't really sure what to do with my nose – and it didn't last very long, but when she finally pulled away, I realized that I'd liked it. This must be what Marissa had been talking about! "Did you like it?" I asked her softly. Pernella nodded.

After that we didn't talk for a while.

OOOOOOOO

"We can't tell anyone," Pernella said suddenly, just before we walked back into Madam Puddifoot's. "Not anyone."

"Why not?" I asked. I'd been holding her hand, but I pulled mine out of her grasp and stopped walking. "Why can't we tell people? Everyone else gets to."

"Everyone else is straight," Pernella pointed out, avoiding my gaze. She took her glasses off and started to polish them on her robes. "They're not going to get the same kind of—of pressure we will. And…Lydia, my cousin's here, and I know your parents have already—that they can't do anything to you, but mine still can, and I don't want them to find out; they'll disown me."

"Oh," I said. It took me a moment to digest the fact that there were other parents out there who would disown their children for the stupidest reasons. I didn't want that to happen to Pernella. "Well…okay, then. We can keep it a secret, if that's what you want."

"Thanks, Lydia," Pernella said, flashing me a grin and putting her glasses back on. "It'll work better this way, I promise."

I had my doubts about that, but then I started to think about what Alicia would say if I told her I was gay, or what people might say in class if they knew Pernella and I were together. What would Teddy say? Would he owl Harry? What about Zach—he didn't seem to mind lesbians, exactly, but then he thought they (we?) were hot. I didn't want to be part of one of his fantasies. It wasn't that I thought hiding was the right thing to do, but maybe it would be easier…and Pernella seemed to think it would be safer.

It scared me to think that there were things about me that would put me in danger.

Pernella had said not to tell anyone, but I didn't think that anyone extended to Meg. My penfriend was half a world away, and she'd been the only person I'd been able to talk to about everything—my parents, my sexuality, Sarah….There was no reason not to write to her now, and I needed to tell someone what was going on.

Dear Meg, I started. I was sitting curled up in a chair in the Slytherin common room, with a jumper on over my pajamas and a robe on over that. It was mind-boggling that Hogwarts couldn't manage to make the dungeons any warmer; the roaring fire barely managed to keep me from shivering.

How are you doing? Are you enjoying your vacation so far? I've sent you some tea—I wasn't sure what kinds you like, so I just sent an assortment. I like the peppermint best, myself.

I'm writing mostly because I'm confused. I kissed a girl in my year today, and I really liked it. The first one was kind of awkward, I guess, and confusing, because no one ever tells you where to put your nose or what to do with her glasses or anything. But then she took her glasses off and I figured out how to tilt my head so our noses didn't bang and it was much nicer. I know I said earlier that I thought my friends were being idiots for being so obsessed with kissing and snogging and dating, but now I guess I understand why. It doesn't seem so silly now.

I'm confused, though, Meg. She (I hope it's okay if I don't say her name, but I feel like I shouldn't without her permission) doesn't want me to say anything to anyone, but I don't like the idea of being so secretive. If I'm dating a girl, then I want to be able to at least tell people! When my friends date, they walk together to classes and kiss in the hallways and sit together in class and call each other by stupid nicknames, and I'm not saying that's what I want, exactly, but it would be nice to have the option. And she—my girlfriend (that feels really weird to write)—thinks that if we tell anyone then people are going to start, I don't know, coming after us with pitchforks or something, like a Muggle witch-hunt. I don't know why anyone would do that (isn't it just our business?), but regardless I don't want it to happen, so I guess it's all right that we keep things quiet. It just feels wrong…and I want to brag! I want to tell people!

Besides, what do I do now that I've got a girlfriend? Am I supposed to walk her places? Do I pay for her? Are we supposed to go on dates? How can we do that if we can't tell anyone we're dating? (I'm sorry for asking you all these questions. It isn't that I think you'll know the answers, but I can't ask anyone here because that would mean breaking my promise, and you're my only other option.)

Anyway, I hope you're having fun at home with your parents and your sister, and I hope that you like the tea. Your owl, by the way, is a git. She stole all of my bacon and bit me. I don't think that's right at all.

Please write back!

Lydia

PS—The Trace is used here in Britain, like in normal countries. It's irritating, but I don't think it's a violation of civil rights or anything…it's just that they can tell if you've done magic, and that's important to keep us out secret from the Muggles. If they can't tell, how do your Ministry people make sure you aren't doing magic all over the place?

PPS—And I don't care what you get me for Christmas, I like anything. Especially if it contains chocolate.

OOOOOOO

A/N: So, as usual, I don't own Harry Potter or Hogwarts or anything that JKR does. Pernella's use of "uncouth" is taken straight from "Dancing Backwards," Marion Dane Bauer's contribution to the anthology she edited, Am I Blue? It's also Pernella's subtle way of trying to sound out whether Lydia is gay or not (too subtle, as Lydia doesn't know what's going on), and it's a fantastic book of YA queer short stories, so if you haven't read it then you ought to do so immediately.

T. Mad Hatter edited this for me, which makes her fantastic and wonderful.

This was actually a wicked difficult chapter for me, which is one of the reasons it took so long; but I hope (very much) that it worked out, because I had a lot of fun writing it too (and sent a lot of emails to friends going, "What was your first kiss like?! Quick, divulge all!"). As usual, anything you notice that's off or that you didn't like, please tell me—constructive crit is how I get better.

And, uh, re: my attempts at canon-compliancy, the new Weasley family tree (where Percy is married with two girls) isn't going to come into this fic at all. Lyra is very much Percy's daughter, very much a Weasley, and also very much an only child and a Wood (and also I'm lazy).