Author's Notes:
Harry Potter doesn't belong to me, I'm just messing him up in the best way I know how.
Chapter Sixteen
After telling off the Minister of Magic himself, Heather found that she enjoyed the rest of her visit to the Burrow a good deal more than she might otherwise have. He and Percy had stormed from the house not long after she had come back inside, Percy's face covered in mashed parnsip, for which Ginny, Fred, George, and Bill were all claiming credit. Now that she and Ron were talking again, she was able to tell him all about the conversation between Malfoy and Snape. He, of course, completely agreed with her that Snape had to be genuine in his offer of assistance. He also was able to explain what an unbreakable vow was.
Heather had expected that Mrs. Weasley wasn't going to give up her efforts to get her to talk. The day after Boxing Day she came around with a large basket, asking for laundry. Thankfully, Heather was in Ron's room and was able to hide her girl's clothes, only handing over what would pass as something a boy would wear. From then on, she had a slight feeling of paranoia anytime that she heard Mrs. Weasley going up the stairs.
With the holidays come and gone, most of the party broke up. Fleur was travelling to France with Bill to visit her parents, Fred and George were returning to work, and Remus disappeared after a short goodbye one evening to return to his assignment with the werewolves. Feeling as though the remaining residents could spread out a little, Heather moved back into the Twins' vacated room. It being larger than Ron's they both spent a good deal of time relaxing in there when not downstairs. Ron was making a very concerted effort to get her name right, usually whispering it so as not to be overheard.
A few days before New Year's Eve, Heather was sitting on her bed reading the Half-Blood Prince's textbook. On a suggestion from Lupin, she had looked up the publication date of the book to find that it was almost fifty years old. Somewhat disappointed that this ruled out any chance that his father had been the Prince, Heather flicked through the pages. She was wearing her new sweater and a pair of jeans that only barely passed as males. Ginny and Ron had gone out to fly in the paddock on a nearby hill, but Heather hadn't felt like joining them. As fulfilling as walking away from Scrimgeour had been, that conversation had given even more information to ponder, something she already had plenty of.
The sound of footsteps approaching made her look up. Being alone in the house with only Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley had returned to work beginning on Boxing Day, there was no doubt who it was.
"Harry dear, can I talk to you about something?" Mrs. Weasley asked, knocking softly on the doorframe.
Heather sat up, noticing in that moment she had forgotten to close her trunk after pulling out the book, and one of her bras was visible in the jumble of clothes. "Uhh, sure Mrs. Weasley" she said.
Mrs. Weasley entered the room and sat down on the foot of the bed. "I found something today, and I wanted to ask you about it."
Ice flooded Heather's spine. "What is it?"
From the pocket of her apron, Mrs. Weasley pulled out a pair of blue knickers that Heather immediately recognized as hers. "These were in the leg of one of your pairs of pants. You must have forgotten to check before giving them to me to wash." Mrs. Weasley said, and there was no trace of emotion in her voice. "Now, I want to know Harry, why are you wearing Hermione's underwear?"
It took a second for that to register in Heather's mind. Ever since fourth year Hermione had put her name in Heather's girl clothes. This allowed Heather to put her dirty clothes, both male and female, into the laundry chute in her dormitory and they would be safely returned to Hermione who would smuggle them back to her. According to Hermione the laundry chutes all dumped into a single location for the entire house, so there would be no raised eyebrows at Heather's clothes mixed in with the rest. This had become so routine that Heather hadn't even given it any thought.
Quickly she tried to come up with a story, any excuse at all that could explain this away without having to tell the truth. Stories of dares, bets, or mistakes with the laundry flooded through her head in an instant while she sat rooted to the spot, each considered and then discarded in turn until her brain registered the only two options. Either she came clean to Mrs. Weasley about Heather, or lie and admit to being a panty theif. Neither option looked to be very enticing, but lying would only make everything worse.
"Those aren't Hermione's, Mrs. Weasley. They're mine." She said quietly into the silence. She was sure how long it had been since Mrs. Weasley had spoken.
"Then why do they have her name in them?" Mrs. Weasley asked, an edge forming in her voice. Obviously, she thought Heather was lying and Heather quailed at the thought of being on the receiving end of her famous motherly temper.
"So that the house elves will return them to Hermione after I'm done wearing them, and then she can return them to me."
Mrs. Weasley considered her for a moment. "Young man, I'm going to give you one more chance to tell me the truth."
"I am telling the truth." Heather said, her voice rising with emotion.
"Ok, then. Why are you wearing knickers, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
Heather let out a slow sigh and started talking. Deciding it was better to get everything out, or at least most of it, she told Mrs. Weasley about being Heather. Whatever Mrs. Weasley had been expecting, it clearly wasn't that. Several times Heather looked up at her face expecting to see disgust or anger filling the kind woman's face. When she was done talking, her shoulders sagged and she waited for the blow to fall. Mrs. Weasley didn't say anything, but sat there contemplating the knickers still bundled in her hand and what she had just been told. Heather didn't notice it but during the silence Mrs. Weasley's eyes traveled over to the open trunk and saw the bra lying in it.
Several long moments passed before she spoke. "Harry dear, I've been watching you for a while now, and I think you know that. Everything I've seen told me that you were different from most boys your age. I remember two years ago when Hermione and Ginny dragged you off to go dress shopping."
Heather blushed at that memory; Mrs. Weasley continued. "Listening to what you're saying, it agrees with everything I'm seeing in you. Your face has already started to show effects of the potions you're taking, and I'm guessing soon more people than just me will notice. I can see that you becoming who you feel you are is the right thing for you, even though it's a lot for me to fully understand right now."
"I understand, Mrs. Weasley. Trust me, it's a lot for me to deal with too." Heather muttered.
"Look at me, young ma-young one, no matter who you are you're still mine. If that means that I have a second daughter instead of a seventh son than so be it. It's just going to be an adjustment." She said gently, pulling Heather into a hug.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."
"Of course, H-heather." Mrs. Weasley said into her ear. At the sound of her name, Heather's emotional dam broke. Mrs. Weasley was the closest thing to a mother he had ever known, and tears flooded from her eyes. Ever since Sirius' death she had wanted another parent to know and accept her.
"Now now, no need for tears, young m-one" consoled Mrs. Weasley, patting Heather's back. "Now, as you mentioned only a few people knowing about this I assume you would prefer we keep this under wraps for now?"
"Yes please. I know the time of being able to hide this is running out, but until I'm ready I want it to stay a secret." Heather replied.
"Of course, dear. I suppose at this point, the only person in the house who doesn't know is Arthur."
"Is that a problem?" asked Heather concernedly.
"Of course not. It's not the first time one of his children has hidden something from him, of course." Mrs. Weasley chuckled, releasing Heather.
Her crying now done; Mrs. Weasley left her alone again after taking all her laundry for washing. When Ginny and Ron returned from flying, Heather told them what had happened. With this in mind, Ginny suggested that if everyone who was currently home knew about Heather, there was no reason to keep her hidden until Mr. Weasley came home tonight. Coming down for supper as Heather felt amazingly right. She had released her long hair from its usual ponytail and braided it back, and had put one the necklace that Hermione had given her for her fifteenth birthday. It felt almost natural being surrounded by people who knew and loved her for who she was.
That night she and Ron stayed up later than they should have. Ron had decided to put their new agreement into practice and was talking about Lavender. He acknowledged again how wrong it was for her to have dosed him with love potion, but argued that he had liked her anyway. "The potion", he said "just helped things along." It was clear to Heather however that Ron was really with Lavender because she was there and wanted him. She was sure that he liked Hermione, just as she liked him. The problem was that they were both too stubborn to admit it. Ron hid the necklace he had gotten from Lavender deep in his trunk, swearing forcefully that he would die before he wore it.
A few days after New Year's it was time to return to Hogwarts. A special floo connection had been set up by the Ministry to quickly and safely return students to school. Heather stepped into the large fireplace in the Weasley's kitchen, shouted "Hogwarts!" and was whisked away. Stumbling out into Professor McGonagall's office, the deputy headmistress looked up and nodded. Once Ron and Ginny had arrived, they set off for Gryffindor Tower, dragging their trunks. When they arrived at the Fat Lady, they learned the password had changed. Hurried footsteps behind them heralded the arrival of Hermione, whose face was flush with cold.
"The password's abstinence" she exclaimed. She looked extremely pleased to see all of them, apparently also including Ron. As the led them through the portrait hole, there was a loud squeal of "Won-Won!" and Lavender came flying at her boyfriend. Ginny took this opportunity to break off to meet Dean, and also fake being sick at the sight of her brother having a violent battle of tongues. Heather noticed that her voice had dropped slightly at the mention of meeting Dean, as though she didn't really want to go.
Following Hermione, they settled in a pair of armchairs in the still mostly empty common room. In hurried sentences Heather filled her in on the many events of the past few weeks. Hermione's eyes rolled when Heather told her about her conversations with Ron and their newly repaired friendship. "Listen, Hermione. Isn't it time you made up with him yourself?" she asked.
"No. I can't and won't."
Dropping the subject for another time, Heather filled her in on the overheard conversation between Snape and Malfoy. Hermione repeated what Lupin had said, that Snape was probably only pretending to offer help. She also agreed that Malfoy was obviously planning something now, but wasn't quite as willing to concur that he was working for Voldemort. Hermione brightened at the news that Heather had come clean to Mrs. Weasley, and even had a good-natured laugh at her friends expense.
"How did you forget to check your pants?" she asked, giggling.
"Ugh, I know, I know." Answered Heather, laughing herself.
The next morning, they returned to the classes they had not missed for the past two weeks. Dreading seeing Justin again, and wondering is his feelings had changed since their last date, Heather approached the queue outside the dungeon with mounting trepidation. Justin was already waiting with Ernie, and at the sound of approaching footsteps he turned to look at her. She tried her best to read his expression, and was grateful at least that it wasn't apparent anger. She chose not to sit with him again, opting for the same empty table she had used previously with Hermione. Justin didn't look at her all lesson, and both girls decided this must mean that he had decided to end things with her.
That evening, Heather made her way along the seventh-floor corridor to Dumbledore's office. Hermione had remembered just as they were heading to bed that she had a message from the headmaster, requesting that Heather meet him tonight.
"I'm given to understand that you met the Minister over your holidays, Harry." Dumbledore said once Heather had sat down across the desk from him.
"Yes, he came. He's not very happy with me." Heather answered.
"No, nor with me at this very moment." Dumbledore said with a wink.
"He wants a mascot." Heather answered nonplussed.
"I had figured as much. Well, I must assume by your tone that you told him no?"
"In so many words, sir." Heather replied.
Leaving the subject of the Minister behind, Dumbledore dived into their subject for the evening, quite literally. Before he could start however, Heather interjected with what her story of Snape and Malfoy. Dumbledore listened impassively, but did not seem to take it seriously to Heather. Her few attempts to bring him around to her way of thinking were met with gentle but solid resistance. Heather grew angry at what she felt was ignoring her, but gave it up in order to learn whatever he had to teach her.
Once more they descended into the pensive, into a pair of memories. Heather watched as a young Voldemort killed his parents and framed his uncle, shivers running down her spine. After a brief discussion of what they had just seen, Dumbledore extracted from his robes another vial. This memory was short, and very strange. It was of Professor Slughorn and Voldemort, and according to Dumbledore was tampered with. White fog filled the memory, and Heather found it very disconcerting. For the first time this year Dumbledore gave her homework, to extract the true memory from Slughorn so they could learn once and for all what it had been.