Chapter One: The Lesbian of Slytherin

May 2021

Remembrance Day, this year, fell on a Sunday. This created a rather unfortunate situation for Dominique. Usually, the only silver-lining of her oversized extended family's arrival at Hogwarts was the standard reprieve from coursework. This year, she could not even count on that small benefit.

The unanimous consensus among the majority of the Weasley-Potter clan, at least those whom Dom had bothered to ask, was that the event seemed as if it had been meticulously designed to make them feel as uncomfortable as possible. Parents', aunts', uncles' and grandparents' tears (or noticeably shorter tempers) made the event particularly uncomfortable for Dom. She had no idea how to talk or behave around people who were clearly upset about something that, for the vast majority of the year, they refused to talk about. And it was not as if Remembrance Day made them more likely to talk about their feelings. Instead, they just seemed to ruminate aloud on what life had been like during the last few years of Voldemort's reign of terror.

Dom understood the concept simply enough that upset people might display anger. Yet, knowing this did not make her feel better when a family member who was normally kind and loving suddenly reprimanded her for asking a question when she tried to acknowledge that they were upset.

Adding to her dislike of Remembrance Day, it often seemed like her Professors used the in-person interaction with her parents during one of the private receptions to share highlights with her mum and dad of the infractions she had acquired during the spring semester. While she could appreciate this tradition for limiting the number of owls her parents received from the school, it was always unsettling to hear one's misdeeds listed all at once in front of one's entire family.

As all these thoughts swirled in her mind, Dom absentmindedly picked at her breakfast. She was supposed to be reading through the newest edition of The Hogwarts Prophet. Professor Longbottom, the reluctant faculty adviser, had passed the marked copy to her as he had made his way to the staff table for his own breakfast. She would like being the newspaper's editor significantly more if she did not have to debate Professor Longbottom each week about which subjects were too inappropriate for the younger students.

This morning proved particularly hard to focus on her editorial duties. She had wanted to debut her advice column Dear Daisy in this edition, but this section has received a specially harsh red-pen treatment. Longbottom had crossed out large portions and the margins were filled with his familiar notation: not appropriate for school.

Dom wondered if, after she graduated next year, all her professors would simply remember her as the one Weasley who was consistently not appropriate for school. It seemed as if every step she took this year, that was what the so-called adults around her fixated on, her lack of appropriateness.

She sighed. Being a newspaper editor had been much more fun when she and a few other girls had been making the publication underground. She liked offering romantic advice exactly the way she wanted to write it without using euphemisms that sometimes even left her confused as to what she was suggesting. She longed for the months before Longbottom had discovered she was responsible for the underground publication, before he caught her leaving a stack of freshly printed salacious stories in the Gryffindor common room. She had to give it to her Head of House though—he had agreed not to write home as long as she participated in a new, official school newspaper.

Even though she had been reluctant, she had to admit that she liked being a founding member of a school paper. She had thought her parents would be proud of her, excited that she had shown a passion for something other than new dress robes or the latest Witch Weekly. They might even be more proud given that they were completely ignorant to the fact that her leadership role in the organization came about after breaking school rules—although in her defense, and she had confirmed it with Roxie beforehand, there were not any explicit rules that banned her from writing an underground paper. So, Dom had held back telling her parents about The Hogwarts Prophet in her letters home. She had even gone so far as to ask Louis not to mention it. But when Christmas came around, her mum was so focused on the arrival of Molly's baby, and Vic, as always, seemed to soak up all the praise in the room. Dom did not even mention The Hogwarts Prophet. She sighed.

She ran her hands along the newspaper and flattened it down, pushing her goblet and plate out of the way. Professor Longbottom had crossed out an entire exchange with a big red mark. He had clearly gone over the mark a few times. She rubbed her forehead and chewed on her lower lip. The writer of the note had seemed so desperate for advice. Dom had not anticipated the anonymity of her advice column being so frustrating. How was she supposed to help students if Professor Longbottom censored her so severely?

She reached in her bag, digging for the original copy of the student's letter. She had refused to leave student's letters in the filing cabinet Professor Longbottom used to store everything having to do with The Hogwarts Propet. These letters were too private, and though she trusted Longbottom, she was not yet sure if she trusted the other students who had signed up for the newspaper. She also knew from Fred and James first hand that even if professors locked their desk drawers, if someone wanted something badly enough, it was just a matter of time before someone broke in and took something out of the desk.

The original letter in her bag had fallen victim to her spilled oil paints from the week before. She was running late to her Divination study group from Art Club and had thrown her paintset into her bag too hastily. She took her wand and quickly performed a cleaning charm so that the handwriting was legible, then she read the letter silently to herself.

Dear Daisy,

I kissed a girl right before Christmas break. When we got back for the next term,we started dating, but she refuses to be seen with me in public. She also doesn't want to introduce me to her family or friends.

My time at Hogwarts is wrapping up, and I want to share with my friends how happy this girl makes me. I want her to be with me when I do all my "lasts" at Hogwarts.

It's killing me that she feels ashamed of me, of who she is with me. What can I do?

Sincerely,

The Lesbian of Slytherin

"Whatcha got there?" Fred asked as he and James descended upon her at the Gryffindor table. Dom looked up and extended her arm over the newspaper to prevent any spills. James was dressed for Quidditch and had his broom over his shoulder.

"You forgot about practice again, didn't you?" James asked as he regarded her outfit. He raised his eyebrow and glared at her.

She looked down at her clothes. Dom had actually been fairly excited about this ensemble. It had yet to receive an infraction and was heavily inspired by some older muggle girls she had seen in Tinworth when her dad had taken her into town to run errands after she and her mum had had a particularly tense row. Normally, even her non-academic outfits were chastised for being too short or being too low cut. But these torn jeans and crew-neck crop top managed to lack both while also celebrating Dom's exhibitionistic tendencies.

"Whoops," Dom said with feigned sheepishness. Quidditch was fun, but it was not a priority for her like it was for James.

Fred reached for the letter that Dom still had in her hands.

"Hey," she scolded as she immediately stole it back from Fred.

He had clearly at least seen the letter's salutation. "Who're you helping now Daisy?" Fred teased. Dom had told Fred, James and Roxie about her advice column after it had been approved by Professor Longbottom. She had come back to Gryffindor tower and could barely contain her excitement. She had regretted disclosing her latest project ever since. The boys had found the advice column stupid although they considered that it could perhaps be useful for hearing the occasional piece of sordid gossip—or at the very least they could see if they could guess which older girls would be willing to put out based on the letters. Roxie's response had been less than encouraging as well.

"Shh!" Dom hissed at Fred. "An advice column doesn't work if people think I'm sharing their letters with a nosy git like you."

Fred looked nonplussed.

"You can't keep missing practice and expect me to keep you on the team," James said as he loaded bacon onto his plate and tried to turn the conversation back to Quidditch.

"I haven't missed it yet, have I?" Dom said back as she shoved the copy of the newspaper and her Dear Daisy letter back into her bag.

"I can cut you for being late all the time too," James retorted as he reached across Fred for the pumpkin juice.

Dom rolled her eyes at him. "I'll go change now," she huffed as she stood up.

"And maybe wash your cake face off so you're not too afraid to sweat like last time," James said offhandedly as he washed a mouthful of bacon down with pumpkin juice.

Dom felt her eyes narrow as she crossed her arms and turned towards her cousin, a retort hovered on her tongue.

"Too far, mate," Fred scolded his best friend.

"I'm just saying, my twelve-year-old sister is outflying her in practice every single week. Maybe if she cared a little less about how she looked while she's up there, she'd be able to fly better than a second year."

"Seriously, shut up," Fred said emphatically to James.

Dom bit her tongue. She did not feel like starting a row with one of her closest friends, not this weekend, even if he was being a prat. Also, she did not really want to risk damaging James's fragile ego by pointing out that Lily flew better than anyone else in the family, even James. She reached for her wand to shove into the waistband of her jeans and grabbed a pastry to take up with her to Gryffindor tower.

She missed Roxie entering the Great Hall and only noticed her cousin once she joined them at Gryffindor's table. The dark-skinned fifth year plunked down onto the bench next to her brother and reached to fill her own goblet with pumpkin juice. She had a book in hand and had apparently been reading while walking.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Dom asked her cousin, aghast.

Roxie looked up and blinked, clearly annoyed at having been distracted from her reading.

"More importantly, are you reading one of my textbooks?" Fred asked incredulously. At the mention of a textbook, James had taken a beaten up notebook from under his arm and was listing the drills he wanted to cover in practice, completely oblivious to the other three.

"Don't be daft," Roxie directed at her brother. "It's one of Lucy's, The Decline of Pagan Magic," she read as she turned the book over. "She's writing an essay on it for History of Magic and wanted my feedback."

"You're reading a textbook, that's not your own—for fun," Fred reiterated slowly, shaking his head.

Roxie shot her brother a maniacal grin.

"Seriously though, what are you wearing," Dom asked again, growing impatient at being ignored.

Roxie looked down at her outfit. Fred also studied his sister's outfit more closely. Roxie's jumper was extremely oversized and her jeans fit in a frumpy sort of way. Both items were covered in a sickly purple stain.

Fred frowned. "Those are clothes I tossed in the bin after my draught of living death went funny and exploded. Higgs said they weren't safe to wear!"

Roxie shrugged. "Nothing bad has happened to me yet. And I didn't have a chance to run down to the laundry between Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures yesterday."

"We've been over this before," Dom said, exasperated. "You cannot, under any circumstances, wear clothes from the bin."

"I don't see a problem with it."

"It's embarrassing!"

"For whom?"

"Me, people know we're best mates. No one will take any fashion advice that I offer in Dear Daisy seriously if they see you dressing like that?"

"You really think that people are taking you seriously when you're giving them fashion advice?" Roxie responded.

A little hurt but deciding to ignore it, Dom blinked slowly at her cousin and pivoted her argument. "We're the same size, you can just share my clothes. There's no need to constantly wear hand-me-downs from Fred."

Roxie looked at cousin up and down who, at this point, had stood and reached for her bag. "No, I'm okay, thanks. I'd prefer not to have professors send owls home about what I wear."

"Well maybe someone should send an owl home about what you wear," Dom fired back as she narrowed her eyes. She stormed out of the Great Hall and made her way back towards the Gryffindor common room.

She decided to take the long way, and cool down a bit. She had already forgotten about Quidditch practice.

Having Roxie as a best friend was so difficult sometimes. Add to it as well that James and Fred could often be a huge pain in her arse. Sure, Dom had loads of other friends. Practically everyone she encountered at school she got on with well, as long as they did not find her stupid or shallow. But, Dom had thought she could always count Roxie among the people who did not see her that way. Lately though, it seemed as if the only thing Roxie had any interest in was her eleven courses which left Dom feeling like an underachiever with her measly three.

As she rounded a corner near the Charms classroom, Dom caught sight of Connor Finnigan's dishwater-colored curls. She pivoted and headed in another direction before he could see her. Perhaps she should institute a moratorium on dating fellow Gryffindors—it made avoiding people difficult.

She was not embarrassed about their early morning tryst in an abandoned classroom from nearly a fortnight ago. Rather, she had not really felt any sort of spark with Connor and she was not sure how to let him down gently when she told him that she no longer wanted to meet up with him alone. She also did not want to be reminded of the recent letter Professor Sinistra had sent home after she and Connor had been caught in the wee hours of the morning. They had lost thirty points from Gryffindor and earned separate detentions.

As she neared the Transfiguration lecture hall, Dom was distracted from her own thoughts when she heard angry whispers. She pressed herself behind the pillar so that the two arguing girls would not hear or see her.

"I don't understand what you're so afraid of," the first voice said.

"I'm not afraid of anything. I just don't want to add to the tension right now. You have no idea what it's been like for me at home with my dad. He's been getting angry about everything. He and mum argue all the time. I don't want to tell them anything else that can get them going," the second voice said in a strained whisper.

"Why do you think telling your parents you have a girlfriend is going to make them yell at each other. You've said your parents would be fine with you seeing a girl," the first girl spoke naturally, unafraid of being overheard.

"I said I think they'll be fine."

"Still, the point remains the same. If you think they'll be fine with it, then you don't want to tell them because you're ashamed. I just can't tell if you're ashamed of me or ashamed of what we're doing." Dom could hear the hurt in the first girl's tone.

"I just told you why I don't want to tell them. It has nothing to do with being ashamed, there's just a lot going on."

"I don't want to wait until you've determined that it's the right time before we tell people we're together. You've been promising me 'just another month' for weeks now. Clearly, you're not comfortable with the idea that people know about us, it's almost like you think what we're doing is wrong." The first girl sounded angry now.

"I don't think what we're doing is wrong. . ." the second girl trailed off sounding defeated.

"The way you're acting—well, you've fooled me then. You make us use disguises when we go out in public, we have to sneak around and hide from all the people that you're related to in this bloody castle. It's disgusting having to play these games."

"Sarah—"

"No, I'm done."

With a jolt of familiarity, Dom realized she recognized the second voice just as the first girl stormed past her, her long blonde ponytail swishing in her wake. Dom pressed herself harder back behind the pillar so the blonde would not see her. Once she no longer heard the blonde's retreating steps, she moved out from her hiding place.

Her dark-haired cousin was leaning against the wall, two fingers pressing against her forehead, her shoulders rising and falling with deep breaths.

"Lucy," Dom said gently as she moved closer to her. "Are you okay?"

Lucy jumped spastically and turned towards her cousin. "What the hell," she shouted, anger clouding her features.

Dom put her hands up defensively and took a step back.

"What is wrong with you?" Lucy demanded. Dom just shook her head, feeling confused.

"Nothing, I just—I heard you talking."

"Really," Lucy hissed, her eyes narrowing. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "Maybe, instead of eavesdropping on other people so you have fodder for your stupid rag, you should spend some time studying. God, I bet there are squibs who could pass more O.W.L.s than you did," Lucy laughed cruelly. She pushed away from the wall and slammed into her cousin's shoulder as she stormed past her, her blue prefect badge glinting in the sunlight.

Dom stood frozen where she was. She took a steadying breath and pressed her hand to her mouth as she tried to blink away the tears that had formed in her eyes. No one would ever dare say Lucy and Dom were friends. Despite being in the same year, the two girls had practically nothing in common. They were cordial to each other at family gatherings, but Dom felt closer to Molly, though only because Molly was best friends with Vic. Dom did not perceive Lucy as being particularly close to anyone in the family, excluding perhaps, their grandfather. Regardless though, Lucy's words had cut deeply, especially because Dom had not been expecting them.

Once she began to recover from the shock of being scolded so suddenly, Dom thought about what she had overheard. Sarah. . . the only Sarah she knew of who was not a first or second year was the seventh year Slytherin Quidditch captain, Sarah Centurn. . .

"Shit! Quidditch," Dom shouted aloud. She turned and sprinted towards Gryffindor tower. James was going to be livid.