A New Pearce
Walking down the busy Los Angeles street, Ginny's eyes darted around in a mix of nervousness and awe. Giant billboards proclaimed products she'd never heard of. She stared at one with an image of a scantily clad woman, her mouth dropping open in shock. They didn't have that in Ottery St. Catchpole.
"Coca-cola," she read shrugging. Must be an underwear brand.
As she rounded a corner a blue flyer was thrust into her hands. She looked at the man in shock.
"Have you accepted Christ as your personal saviour yet?" he asked.
"You know I meant to and then I just got really busy!" she replied, picking up her pace and hurrying away from the main street.
An hour later Ginny was still wandering around but was beginning to think that leaving the congested street had not been the smartest thing she'd done this year. The sun was low in the sky, casting an odd half-light over the street. Slight panic began to rise in her chest. A door swung open in front of her, knocking her backwards. She looked up from the ground. A shocked and worried, middle aged woman meet her gaze.
"Fuck!" she swore loudly.
Ginny blinked stupidly. Did she just say fuck?
"Oh dear, are you alright?' she asked, hauling Ginny to her feet. "Don't sue!"
"Umm sure," Ginny said uncertainly as she was ushered though the door and into a high leather seat. A bottle of orange liquid unceremoniously coming into her possession. She looked down dumbly to the bottle in her hand. "Fanta," she read. What the hell is Fanta?
She glanced around the room ascertaining that she was in some kind of hair salon. The walls were covered with posters of different styles and colour satchels sat on display in one corner. There were four mirrors with a shelf below them on either side of the room. Each one with a chair similar to the one she was currently perched in front of it.
"So what's your name, love?" the woman asked as she busied herself neatening a cart laden with scissors, rollers and many things Ginny didn't recognise.
"Ginny," she said her eyes settling on a poster advertising a special on ear piercing. "Ginny Pierce."
"Ginny. Hmmm what that be short for then?"
"Ginevra."
"Oh," the woman gushed. "What a lovely name! For a second there I was afraid you were going to say Virginia!" Her nose crinkled as she spat out the name as if it hurt her to say it. "Disgusting name!"
Ginny smiled at her uncertainly not sure of how to reply.
"Here," the woman said placing a bowl of coloured balls on the shelf by her side. "Get theses into you. You looked a small shuffle away from being anorexic!"
Ginny eyed the bowl with caution. She had no idea what these little coloured things were and if she was not mistaken they all had a white 'm' on them. The woman was looking at her with narrowed eyes. Feeling much like she did when her mother fixed her with a glare, she reached over taking a few of the coloured balls.
"Don't know what's wrong with young girls these days! Too thin!" the woman muttered turning away from Ginny again.
It dawned on Ginny as she caught the woman's mutterings that these 'm's' were some kind of food. Still a little cautious, she slowly brought the 'm' to her mouth. As her teeth broke the shell the sweet taste of milk chocolate hit her tastebuds. "Chocolate!" her mind screamed with elation. She quickly reached over to the bowl taking a small handful, placing the bottle of Fanta on the shelf as she did so. The woman looked at her approvingly as she spied the small pile of 'm's' in Ginny's' hand. Ginny couldn't help but feel a small swell of pride when she caught the look.
"Excuse me," Ginny said feeling less self-conscious than she did when she first entered the brightly coloured salon. "But what's your name?"
"Christ!" the woman exclaimed, moving closer to Ginny. "What rock did my manners crawl under? My names Charlotte," she said, grabbing Ginny's chocolate free hand and shaking it vigorously. "Pleased to meet you."
Ginny smiled broadly, "Nice to meet you too."
"Now," Charlotte said, suddenly turning serious. "Just what are we going to do about that hair of yours?
"My hair?" Ginny asked a wave of self-consciousness flowing over her.
"Yes, love," Charlotte said matter-of-factly. "Doesn't suit you at all. Too thick, too long, no shape to speak of," she shook her head, looking over Ginny critically. "It's only saving grace is the colour."
"Oh," Ginny said inadequately. She looked at her reflection, watching Charlotte scrutinise her appearance. Ginny couldn't help but agree with Charlotte. She'd never really enjoyed wrestling with her long mop everyday but couldn't remember why she had bothered after she moved out of home. Her mother thought her hair should remain long and it wasn't worth saying no to her while she was forced to live under the same roof. So why had she kept it long? It never did what she wanted. She wasted a good forty-five minutes every morning trying charm after charm, in an attempt to tame her fiery locks. She'd cursed it (not literally of course... well just the once), more times than she could count. So why did she- Harry. It suddenly hit her. Harry had liked her hair long. He never wanted her to cut it.
"Short," Ginny said a little more forcefully than she had intended. "I want it short," she said more calmly, releasing the grip she had unconsciously applied to the chairs arm.
Charlotte smiled broadly; apparently oblivious to the tone Ginny had just taken. "Wonderful! I was hoping you'd say that."
Having her hair cut by a muggle was an …interesting experience for Ginny. Her hair was washed, attacked by scissors and dried with some black contraption that blew hot air at her, attacked with scissors again and then pressed straight by some hot metal plates encased in plastic. Ginny was stunned when she saw the finished product in the mirror. She let out an excited squeal at the sight. Charlotte smiled happily, "Knew you'd like it!"
"I do! I love it!" Ginny squealed, running her hand carefully along her shortened locks. No longer sitting thickly at her waist, the amber strands now came to just below her shoulders. Short pieces framed her thin face. She pushed a stray strand carefully away from her eyes, her fingers slowly travelling along its length.
"Now all you need to do is put a little meat on that scrawny body of yours and you won't be able to make any female friends!" Ginny looked at her, face a mask of confusion.
Talking with Charlotte was something Ginny had never experienced. She had taken to calling Ginny 'Baby', after learning her age. "Twenty-one! Oh you're still such a baby!" and had a vocabulary that Ginny was sure would make even her brothers blush. Ginny didn't know why, but she trusted this woman, that she had just met, more than any of the people she had left behind. As a result Ginny found herself telling her life story to Charlotte, making it muggle friendly of course.
Charlotte looked at her with sad eyes as she spoke of her life with Harry, exclaiming in a way that Ginny was sure would have her mother on the floor in a dead faint, when she spoke of Harry's antics and his.
Ginny was forced to choke down her mouthful of Fanta - which she was now downing without reservation or restraint- when Charlotte said he was a 'mother fucking bastard!' among other things. Charlotte had such a kind and maternal feeling to her, her bursts of profanities never failed to shock Ginny.
Charlotte told Ginny the highlights of her life as well. She was forty-nine years old and had been married for twenty-nine of them. She and her husband, Wyatt, owned the salon and a restaurant, Esmond's. It had been Wyatt's fathers and they had taken over when his father died.
They had been foster parents for the last twenty years and had one child of their own. A boy named Jaydon. He was twenty-six years old and studying to be a doctor.
The building they lived in had three stories. The bottom had been converted to house the salon. Ginny had been given the grand tour of the upper levels when Charlotte had decided they needed more of the coloured balls.
The first level had a lounge room that reminded Ginny of the Burrow with its cluttered neatness and large, soft looking sofa. Berating herself, Ginny hastily banished all thoughts of England to the back of her mind, instead focusing on the numerous framed photographs of children that lined the walls. She had seen muggle pictures many times before but she still couldn't help watching out of the corner of her eye, waiting for them to move. Charlotte pointed out each child in turn, giving a brief summary of their time with her and Wyatt. One of the boys looked familiar but Ginny couldn't place where she knew him from. She shrugged off the feeling, her attention drawn away from the photographs and back to Charlotte as she continued the tour.
There was a small but well equip kitchen, a bathroom, master bedroom and a study with a funny box that Ginny thought might be a computer, with a board with letters, numbers and symbols in front of it. Upstairs was another bathroom and four bedrooms, each had at least one bed in it. Only two looked like they were being used at the moment. Each room looked like it had endured many a personality imposed upon it.
"We only have three with us at the moment," Charlotte explained. "Two boys and a girl. The boys are brothers, just lost their parents, the poor dears. Didn't want to be separated so they share a room and Jillian, well her mother's a crack whore so she's better off here." Ginny stopped momentarily at Charlotte's bluntness before hurriedly following her as they made their way back down to the lounge.
"Where are they now?" Ginny asked as she plopped herself down on the sofa beside Charlotte.
"Jillian's on a school camp for the week and the boys went with Wyatt to the restaurant," Charlotte craned her neck, eying the clock in the kitchen. "They should be back in about half an hour. Wyatt leaves it to one of the manager to close up most nights." Ginny glanced at the clock letting out a small cry and bounded off the sofa as she read its face. 8.40.
"Oh my gods!"
"Calm down, Baby!" Charlotte admonished, forcing Ginny back onto the sofa. "We'll call a taxi. You'll get to your hotel in a jiffy."
"But I don't have a hotel yet," Ginny said miserably. "I only got in today and I didn't think to book one before I left!"
"Well that was stupid of you, wasn't it?" Ginny nodded at Charlotte whose mouth was set in a thin line, reiterating the scolding tone in her voice. "Not to worry," Charlotte said dropping her hands from her hips and taking on a cheery tone. "You'll stay here." Ginny looked up at her shocked. She started to protest but Charlotte cut her off sternly.
"Nonsense. You'll stay here. We have plenty of room. Save your money."
"I can't-" Ginny began but stopped abruptly at the expression that had suddenly overtaken Charlottes face. It amazed Ginny how much Charlotte looked like her mother in that moment. Defeated, Ginny nodded, thanking her profusely. Charlotte waved her off.
"No need for that, Baby. It's nothing. The ancient Greeks used to do it all the time. Give a stranger food, clothes, anything they wanted before asking why they were there or even who they were! Hospitality was considered of the utmost importance," Ginny nodded dumbly as Charlotte moved briskly to the small kitchen. "And I know exactly why you're here so I don't see why I can't take half a page out off the ancient Greeks book," she stirred a pot over the stove as she spoke. "You like marshmallows in your hot chocolate, Baby?"
Ginny sat nursing her hot chocolate enthralled by the swirl of the melted marsh mellow that sat atop the richly flavoured liquid.
"It's the cinnamon and nutmeg," Charlotte was telling her knowingly, "that gives it the flavour. I-" a loud clattering followed by pained yells and a deep yell of "Boys!" punctuated Charlotte's speech.
"Ah," Charlotte said brightly. "The boys are home!" Two boys, who looked to be around twelve, stumbled through the door.
"Mama!" one of the boys yelled, his hand covering his face. "Tyler broke my nose!"
"I did not!" the other yelled back, stomping his foot. "He tripped himself up the stairs!"
"DID NOT!"
"DID TOO!"
"Boys!" growled Charlotte silencing the two boys. "We have a guest," she said, teeth clenched, waving her arm in Ginny's direction.
"Sorry, Mama," the boys chorused. Ginny thought she heard a muttered 'did not' as a tall, grey haired man walked calmly into the room.
"Hello, love," he said happily giving his wife a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to Ginny. "Wyatt," he said extending his hand to her. "Pleased to meet you."
"Ginny will be staying with us until she gets on her feet," Charlotte said in a tone that clearly said no objections would be heeded, before Ginny had a chance to answer. "Poor dear has just got here from England today. Didn't think to organise accommodation, the silly girl!" Ginny blushed.
"Ah," Wyatt said knowingly.
"It's just till she gets on her feet," Charlotte said forcefully, handing each boy a mug of steaming hot chocolate. The broken nose apparently forgotten by both parties. "I'm going to make up Ginny's bed."
When she disappeared upstairs, Wyatt turned back to Ginny.
"I hope you realise you can never leave here," he said with a laugh. "She wants to keep you now! That's what my Lotti does you see, isn't boys?" Both boys nodded emphatically.
"That's what she did to Alex," one of the boys, who Ginny recognised as Tyler, supplied while the other continued to nod his head in agreement. "He was only supposed to be here for three months and hasn't escaped Mama yet!"
"Wyatt says that's what happened to us too and we didn't even notice!" the other said seriously.
"Oh," Ginny said awkwardly, feeling that she was supposed to acknowledge that gem of knowledge somehow.
"Don't look so worried," Wyatt said softly. "Lotti's just very maternal. She loves every kid who comes through here like they were her own, no matter how long they stay."
Ginny sat alone in her room an hour later, emptying her bag upon the bed. A leather bound book and deep red, drawstring bag with an elaborately embroidered 'G', fell upon the floral bedspread. She placed the book on the bedside table next to the glass of water Charlotte had insisted she have.
"Just in case you get thirsty during the night," she'd said firmly.
Ginny dropped the leather bag to the cream carpeted floor, pouring out the deep red bag contents. Bundles of Muggle money fell to the bed along with two boxes. She picked up the smaller of the two. It was extremely thin and a little bigger than the palm of her hand.
"Engorgio," she muttered. The box swelled in her hand doubling in size. A 10inch phoenix feather wand, crafted from fine redwood, was nestled within the box. With a smile Ginny flicked her wrist, sending the second box to the middle of the small room. "Engorgio," she muttered again. The small box grew to a large suitcase. Ginny knelt on the floor, fiddling with the uncooperative zip. Throwing back the heavy material, Ginny inspected is contents. The clothes she had would be considered out of fashion now in England, she could only imagine how they would be looked upon here. She made a mental note to ask Charlotte where a mall was before picking out an outfit for tomorrow and a pair of pyjamas.
She had packed the suitcase during the war, just in case they had to run. It sat in its shrunken form in the top draw of her bedside table for years. Ginny had moved her spare wand and suitcase to her Gringotts Vault shortly after the war's end.
They had all done it. Being close to Harry, the Order was afraid Voldemort would try to use his friends and family to draw him out. Every one Harry cared about and every Order member prepared a suitcase. They had, in that one suitcase, the means to disappear into the Muggle world for an undetermined period of time. In the suitcase were Muggle clothes, a small stockpile of Muggle money but most importantly a folder containing a comprehensive set of fake Muggle identification. There was everything from a birth certificate to school reports. A simple charm transferred the appropriate details onto the blank pages and cards. The spare wand had been of her own violation, buying it a few months after Voldemort's defeat. Nobody knew she had this wand. Wands could be tracked given the right paperwork and circumstances. Only people in the Department of Mysteries could track wands.
Ginny sat in her flannel pyjamas covered in little yellow ducks, contemplating what her new identify should be. She had her name already, Ginevra Pierce. There was no way she could change that. She had already told Charlotte. She crinkled her nose, wishing she had thought of a more alluring surname.
"Ginevra Pierce," she muttered under her breath. "Ginny Pierce. Pierce. Pierce. Pie-"
As she repeated her poorly chosen surname, a thought struck her. So she couldn't change her name, that didn't mean she couldn't change the spelling. She tapped the Muggle birth certificate with the tip of her wand with a muttered charm.
Ginevra Molly Pearce
She smiled as the words flowed onto the parchment- no, paper- she corrected herself. Muggles have paper. That was better. Not a lot better, but better none the less.
She decided to keep her detail as close to the truth as possible. It would be easier to remember that way. Numerous taps of her wand later Ginny Weasley no longer existed. With a small smile playing on her lips Ginevra Molly Pearce, snuggled beneath the covers, falling into a peaceful slumber.
Ginny was awoken the next morning to the sound of yells and clattering coming from downstairs. Ginny burrowed her head under the pillow. It was too early. The noise didn't cease as Ginny silently cursed beneath her pillow but got louder as a voice joined the din, yelling over the introduction of music. Ginny groaned, pulling herself out of bed. She scowled at the blue, cloud free sky she could see through her window. How could four people make so much noise?
Casting a scourgify charm on herself, Ginny quickly dressed for the day. It was times like these she wished she enjoyed the taste of coffee. She felt like she had only slept a few minutes. The smudges under her eyes were much darker than she would have liked. Ginny contemplated her appearance in the thin full-length mirror she had discovered hanging on the empty closet door. It would do. She wore a pair of dark blue jeans with a jewelled detail across the back pockets, paired with a black tank top. She wore the same sneakers she had arrived in.
Ginny re-shrank her suitcase, returning it to her black shoulder bag before carefully making the bed and going downstairs. Ginny glanced at the clock as she joined Charlotte in the kitchen. 7.00am. No wonder she was tired.
"Good morning, Baby," Charlotte said cheerily, pouring orange juice into glasses. "Sleep well?"
"Yes, thankyou," Ginny replied. "I have some money for you for letting me stay and for the haircut."
"Don't worry about it," she said, dismissing Ginny with a wave of her hand. "Letting you stay here was of no cost to me and I overcharge my customers anyway! I won't accept your money!"
"But-"
"Do you have a job?" Charlotte asked, her hands flying to her hips.
"Well, no-"
"Exactly! You're in a foreign country all by yourself. Just got out of a horrendous relationship, which you stayed in for far too long!" Ginny cringed "You don't have the money to spare. So you will stay here until you do! Like I said it's no trouble."
Ginny sighed. Did she want to stay? True she liked and trusted Charlotte but she left to escape the controlling and coddling ways of those around her. Charlotte was looking at her strangely, her expression abruptly changing, softening. Her hands dropped to her sides. She took a step close to Ginny, speaking softly.
"Just till you get on your feet, Baby. Somewhere to stay till you find a place of your own. Then you can invite us over for dinner to say thank you. Everybody needs a friend." Ginny smiled gratefully, nodding. Charlotte looked at her for a moment before enveloping Ginny in a comfort fuelled hug.
"Now," Charlotte said, pulling away. "Toast, muffins or-"
"I'm back!" a male voice yelled from the open doorway, his arms spread open. "Who wants the first hug?"
"Alex!" Charlotte cried, moving speedily towards him, embracing him tightly.
"Mama," he said gently. "In case you've forgotten, we humans need this little thing called oxygen."
"Oh, stop it!" Charlotte scolded, swatting heartedly at his arm. "I haven't seen you in god knows how long-"
"I was away for two weeks. You saw me off at the airport."
Charlotte continued as if she hadn't heard him. "And now you won't even let me give you a proper hug?"
Alex rolled his eyes, embracing the older woman again. "Better?" Charlotte nodded happily, pecking him on the cheek.
"Have you eaten? I made breakfast." Alex cast a worried look to the two boys seated at the kitchen table.
"She made cereal," Tyler said, indicating to his bowl. "You're good."
"Well in that case, bring it on, Mama!" Charlotte scowled at Tyler and Alex in turn. Tyler suddenly needed every ounce of concentration to bring the spoon to his mouth. Alex simply nodded gravely under her gaze.
"I'm sorry, Mama," he said solemnly. "But you're going to have to face the fact that you're cooking is only good for food poisoning epidemics."
Charlotte huffed back to the kitchen as Wyatt began talking to Alex and the two boys stifled a snort. Charlotte was mumbling under her breath. Ginny's eyes widened as she caught her words. Ginny didn't pay too much attention to Charlotte though; she was focused solely on Alex. She couldn't believe it. It was him.
Alex turned towards the kitchen as Charlotte gave a particularly loud 'fuck'. His eyes widened, flickering with recognition.
"Ginny?" he asked, sounding astounded.
"Hi, Alex," she said meekly, giving him a small wave.
"How the hell do you two know each other?" Charlotte asked, looking from Ginny to Alex imploringly.
"We sat next to each other on the aeroplane," Ginny explained, not breaking Alex's gaze.
"Really?" Charlotte questioned, her eyes narrowing on Alex. Her hands flying to her hips once more.
"Small world, huh?" Alex offered with a nervous laugh, running his hand through his hair.
"Do you mean to tell me," Charlotte began menacingly. "That you got back last night and didn't bother to come and see us or even call!" Her voice had taken on a shrill edge as she spoke. Alex squeezed his eyes shut and cringed at the sound.
"Well you see," he began, fumbling for an excuse. "I was tired," A humph from Charlotte told everyone that that excuse was not acceptable. "I wanted to call Jet and make sure he was safe and to let him know I was back?" he suggested.
"You couldn't have done that from here?"
"Apparently not."
"You are coming for dinner tonight!" Charlotte told him, turning to the sink.
"Yes, Mama,"
"And you're giving Ginny a job."
"What?" Ginny exclaimed, shocked. "That's not necessary. Really not necessary."
"Of course it is," Charlotte said matter-of-factly. "And it's no trouble for Alex. In fact, you taking the job saves him time and money." Ginny opened her mouth to protest but Alex beat her to it.
"Tell you what, Ginny," he began, taking a swig from a glass of juice settled on the counter, ignoring Charlotte's vicious swipe at his hand. "Why don't you come down to The Bronze before the lunch time rush today and we can see if you want the job? That way everybody's happy."
Ginny hesitantly nodded her consent. Fanbloodytastic, she thought. I've traded one set of control freaks for another, but she did need a job. She had enough money from WWW now but it wasn't going to last forever. She wanted to do this on her own. She didn't want to need help. Ginny sighed as she sat down at the scratched table, listening to Alex telling everyone about England. It struck her as she picked at her banana muffin, that the difference between these control freaks and those who were her blood kin, was that they were giving her a choice not just telling her she started Monday as her father had with her secretarial job. If she didn't want this job she didn't have to take it. It seemed so simple. It was so simple, yet that knowledge lifted a great weight from Ginny's shoulders. Smiling happily, Ginny focused on Alex and his escapades though English pubs.
Ginny emerged from her taxi after a small debacle with her Muggle money onto the street. She looked down at the scrap of paper held tightly in her hand. Carefully checking the address once more, she looked up at the top of double glass doors where currently dull neon lights scrawled the words, 'The Bronze' in large letters. The Bronze, Ginny had learnt from Charlotte, was a coffee lounge/bar. From nine till five The Bronze was essentially a café but come nine o'clock it transformed into a bar complete with live music and a dance floor. Alex had originally only intended the café part of the concept to be a temporary thing to raise revenue while promoting The Bronze as a night club but he picked up enough regular customers for the café that it made more sense to him to keep running both.
Taking a breath, Ginny pushed open the doors and descended down the cement stairs. The tiny exterior masked a spacious sub level. Ginny wound her way through the brightly lit room, around the many plush couches and silver tables that dotted the room. There was a stage at one end of The Bronze with lights hanging from the roof in front of it. Smaller lights decorated the very front of the stage. There were no curtains; she could see back stage as she crossed in front on the stage. Masses of wires, stuck to the floor with thick black tape, snaked their way around. Soft music played in the background. It was loud enough that people sitting alone could hear it clearly yet soft enough that others didn't have to strain to hear their conversations. Ginny wandered over to the bar. Fairy lights decorated the oil stained wood of the shelves displaying bottles of liquor.
She pulled herself up onto one of the high bar stools her feet barley touching the metal footrest. She fidgeted nervously, her eyes scanning the partially filled room, waiting for Alex.
"Hello, Ginny," he said cheerily, moving behind the bar at which she was seated. "Ready for your interview?"
"Interview?" Ginny squeaked, her eyes widening. Alex laughed at her expression.
"Don't look so scared!" he admonished. "I know you haven't had any time to prepare for any kind of interview, so I figured you could tell me where you've worked before and you can prove that you're you later but it's not like I'm going to give you a job just because Mama says so." Ginny smiled half- heartedly in reply to Alex's bright smile. He turned away from her, grabbing a coffee cup and placing it on the machine's grill. "Would you like a coffee? On the house," he asked.
Ginny shook her head, "No, thank you. I don't drink coffee."
"Well, I need a coffee," he replied fiddling with a removable part trying to force it to lock in. Ginny scowled at the coffee machine. It was the same one she and Harry had had. He had brought in one day after a trip to Muggle London with Hermione and a disgruntled Ron. Harry hadn't bothered to learn to use the bloody thing. She was just expected to always do it for him. She smiled at the thought of him fumbling with it as Alex was now. "Fucking piece of stainless steel shit," he grumbled. "Why the hell did I allow myself be conned into buying you?"
Ginny slid of stool, moving behind the bar. "See this groove here?" she said taking the handle from a now flustered Alex and running her slim finger along the metallic indent. "You have to have the handle directly in line with it so it can- there!" she said triumphantly as it clicked into place. Alex sighed dramatically as caffeine filled water filled his mug.
"Congratulations, Ginny!" he said jubilantly. "You are officially gainfully employed at The Bronze."
Ginny trudged up the stairs after three hours of introductory training. There were more coffee flavours than Ginny had ever imagined. The Wizarding World had so few compared to Muggles.
Alex didn't think it necessary for her to stay for the bar opening and for that she was immensely grateful. Ginny now fully understood why people moaned about jetlag, as she fell exhausted into bed, not bothering to change into her pyjamas. Leaving during the day, while Harry was at work, would have been a much better idea than the middle of the night.
A/N: The line, "Have you accepted Christ as your personal saviour yet? ... You know I meant to but then I just got really busy." is from Buffy season 4, episode 1, The Freshman. Buffy is asked by a flyer giving outer girl at college. I have a slight Buffy obsession. Occasionally I pilfer.