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From the moment her children began to talk, Ginny marveled at her childhood arrogance. How had she ever thought she was good at lying?
Molly Weasley might have had over double the amount of children that Ginny had, but she always had an ear to the ground. When James began fussing at three, Molly correctly determined that he, like Ron, was afraid of the dark. Ginny was ready when Albus started asking for water at night; like her, he didn’t like missing the fun of the grownups. And she blushed when Molly told Lily that she needed to take better care of her brother’s brooms when she snuck them out.
“Did you always know?” Ginny demanded.
“Of course,” her mother said with a smile. “I know more about my children then I let on. You will too.”
And Ginny did learn; so did Harry, but he was different. Harry was very good at knowing how to cheer the children up and make them feel better. She could tell when her kids were lying, and more often than not, she knew why. They were a good team.
Which was why she was having a hard time keeping a straight face right now.
Harry and the kids had come home for Christmas, and when Ginny met them at the train she saw James, blushing to the roots of his hair, saying goodbye to Abby Wood. She was a year younger than James, still in sixth year, but she leaned close, twirling her hair. James dodged a kiss on the cheek, but he accepted a hug, face still red. Ginny caught Harry’s eye, and he winked before he kissed her.
Like always, they all went out to a Muggle Italian restaurant to celebrate. Albus was bubbling about his latest project with Rose and Scorp (which involved too much going into the Forbidden Forest for Ginny’s liking, but Firenze would help guide them), and Lily made them all laugh with her impressions of the teachers. James laughed at all the right parts, but Ginny could tell her boy was distracted.
“Something on your mind, James?” Harry asked over dessert. His eyes twinkled. “Or maybe someone?”
James blushed as Lily snickered. “Aaabbyyyy,” she cooed.
“Shut up,” James hissed.
“Who’s Abby?” Ginny asked, feigning innocence. “Is it Abby Jones?”
Abby Jones was their sixty year old neighbour.
“No!” James snapped. He attacked his gelato, stabbing the spoon in over and over again without actually picking anything up.
“It’s Abby Wood,” Albus informed them. “She’s Oliver Wood’s daughter, remember Mum? We met them a couple of years ago at the World Cup, remember—ow!”
James had clearly kicked his brother.
“Well, it’s nice you’ve made a new friend, James,” Ginny said quickly. Time to change the subject. “Speaking of friends, has everyone bought all their gifts? We’ll go tomorrow if not…”
The distraction worked, and Lily started listing off the people she still needed to finish gifts for. As her brothers chimed in with help, Ginny looked to Harry. Marriage had taught her new skills too, and silent communication with her husband was the most valuable.
Me or you? Harry said.
James was upset, and he did need cheering up, but there was something in the set of his shoulders that troubled Ginny. She recognized the look; hopelessness of the heart.
I should go first, she replied.
Harry nodded, and called for the bill.
The restaurant wasn’t far from home, and the five of them started walking together. About two blocks away, however, Harry gave a start.
“Li-lu, you said you wanted to get a Pigmy puff for cousin Lou, right?”
“Yeah, they want one.”
“Why don’t we go now? George owled me today to say they’d be open late the next couple of days.”
“Can I come too?” Albus asked eagerly. “I need…supplies.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. James?”
“I’m alright,” James said. “I’m actually a bit tired.”
“I’ll come home with you,” Ginny said. “I’ve got a bit of a headache.” She took James’ arm and they walked down the street, glancing over her shoulder just once to see Harry, Al and Lily safely cross the road towards Diagon Alley.
James was unnaturally quiet as they walked home. Really worried now, Ginny drank a quick draught for her headache—long day of writing—and prepared James’ favourite tea, a delicate orange tea with no caffeine. Kreacher watched worriedly. “Is everything alright, Mistress?”
Ginny smiled. “I think James has a heartache,” she said honestly. “I’m hoping I can help. Are you going to the concert tonight?”
Thanks to Hermione’s efforts, more house-elfs were given free time. Some of them, Winky included, had taken up music, and gave concerts to raise clothes donations for forced workers. Several would sneak into homes and place them strategically, ready for the bad master to make a mistake. They were usually socks.
Dobby’s legacy was stronger than ever.
Kreacher nodded. “It will be wonderful,” he said.
“Enjoy yourself,” Ginny said. “Harry and I are planning on attending the next one.”
“Winky will be delighted to see you, Mistress.”
Ginny took the tea and went upstairs. James was sprawled on the sofa, nose buried in a book.
“Tea?” Ginny asked.
James put a hand up for the mug, but Ginny held it out of his reach. “Sit up, darling.”
James groaned, but did as she said. “Ta, Mum.”
Ginny sat down next to him. “You’re not reading for school, are you? You’ve only just gone on holiday.”
“No, it’s a novel, a Muggle one. Abby leant it to me…” her son’s voice trailed off, and Ginny saw him blushing.
“Can I help, James?” she asked gently.
James put the book down and closed his eyes. “I don’t think so, Mum. But thanks.”
“Why don’t you give me a try, hm?” Ginny patted his knee. “You’ve been upset since you got home.”
James still had his eyes closed. “Mum…you’re supposed to want to kiss people you like, right?”
“Depends on how you like them,” Ginny answered, trying to make a joke. “I certainly don’t kiss your uncles.”
James sighed. “I mean like you and Dad.”
“I…well, I suppose, yes.” Ginny hadn’t really thought about it. “But you don’t have to like kissing girls, remember.”
“I know that, Mum. With Lils and Al, how could I not?”
“Then what is your question, love? I don’t think I understand.”
James pressed his hands together. “I like Abby Wood.”
“Okay…”
“But I don’t want to kiss her.”
“Okay. Do you like her as a friend?”
“No, it’s not that.” James opened his eyes. “I think that she’s lovely and I sort of get nervous when she’s around, but I don’t want to kiss her. Or…anything else.”
“Ah.” Ginny thought about it. “Maybe you just haven’t…I don’t want to push, James, but…”
“I’ve had sex, Mum.”
His bluntness shocked Ginny more than the revelation. “When?” she asked sharply.
“Dad knew, Mum. I asked him not to tell you because nothing good came out of it.”
Ginny was struck by a horrible thought. “You weren’t…weren’t forced, were you?”
“No,” James said firmly. “No, I wanted to try. It was last year.”
Last year… “So was it with Jenny Marks?”
James was blushing. “That was why we broke up. She was really keen on it, and I wasn’t.”
Ginny took his hand in hers. “I’m sorry, sweet.”
“It’s not her fault. We wanted different things.”
There was more there, and Ginny wanted to press the point, but it was better to address the larger problem. “James,” she considered slowly, “have you considered that you might be asexual?”
James eyes went wide. “There’s a—a word?”
Ginny felt a lump in her throat. “Yes,” she answered. “Your Uncle Charlie is asexual. He found out about it a few years ago. I thought he told you all.”
James chewed his lip. “I don’t think so. He told us that he wasn’t ever getting married…is that why?”
“No, that was a separate thing. Charlie’s married to his work, but there are lots of people who are just as dedicated who find time for sex. He was quite cheerful about understanding why he didn’t want that either.”
“So I’m not…ill, then?”
“I don’t think so,” Ginny said thoughtfully. “I think it’s just something that’s how you like people. Look at Lily; she’s interested in everyone.”
“And for me it’s no one.” James looked a bit more cheerful. “I thought I might be sick.”
“If you want to go and see Hannah, or someone else, and find out more about it, you can. But no, Jamie, I don’t think you’re ill.”
“It didn’t feel like I was,” James confessed. “I don’t really mind not being interested. Except…” the gloom came back into his face.
“Except with Abby?”
James nodded. “I’ve always liked flirting, and even dates, but she’s different. She’s more important than that, and I want to be with her. But I can’t give her what she wants.”
“How do you know that?”
“She tried to kiss me twice!”
“So…” Ginny tapped her knee. “What do you want?”
“I want to read books with her and play football and listen to her play music and talk when we can’t sleep.” James flushed. “And go on dates and write her stories…and maybe kissing would be okay sometimes. Just not, you know, snogging.”
Ginny ran a hand through his hair. “That sounds lovely, sweet.”
“So why can’t I have that?” James asked miserably.
“Who says you can’t? Have you spoken to Abby?”
James looked away.
“You’re worried if you do she’ll say she wants more, and you’re worried you might compromise yourself.”
“I’m worried that I can’t be enough for her!”
Ginny tilted his chin so their eyes met. “James Sirius Potter, you listen to me. You’re enough for anyone, okay? You don’t have to be someone you’re not for someone you love.” She’d learned that lesson long ago.
“Grandfather did.”
“Your namesake changed his behavior for your grandmother,” Ginny corrected. “As far as anyone ever told your dad, he was the same as a man as he was when he was a boy. And people do mature on their own, not just because they like someone. He might have done both. Unfortunately we don’t know.”
“So am I mature enough to know this is what I am?”
“Does the word make sense to you?”
“Yes,” James said immediately. “It makes a lot of things…make sense.”
“Then that’s what you are. If things change, they change. But Jamie, remember this. Whether that changes or not, we will all love you and we’re not going to judge you. I don’t totally understand how you feel, but you don’t understand how I feel either. So we’ll muddle through, okay?”
James sat up and hugged her, clinging the way he used to when he was small. “Love you, Mum.”
“Love you too, my darling,” Ginny whispered. When she pulled away, she smiled at him. “Why don’t you write to Uncle Charlie if you have any questions? He won’t be back until after Christmas, so your owl will catch him.”
****
James didn’t write for the first two weeks of school. Harry was worried too, and each night when he came home they discussed the silence (James had been dodging his dad).
Then, finally, Harry came home grinning ear to ear and held out a photo.
It was James and Abby, hand in hand. James was wearing a scarf striped with purple, black, gray and white. In the picture Abby put her head on James’ shoulder.
“She made it for him,” Harry explained. “But she ran out of yarn over break and had to finish it this week.”
Ginny blinked away her tears. “So she…”
“She knew,” Harry confirmed. “And she…it was quite a scene, actually. Burst into the Great Hall, said she didn’t give a toss if he didn’t want to kiss her, and hugged him.”
Ginny smiled. “You know, that sounds a bit…familiar.”
Harry put his arm around her. “I know what you mean. You know…with all of our kids being the way we are, and the others…”
“Yes?”
“Maybe we should see about getting more information into schooling. You know, teaching kids about different ways of loving. I know we never learned that part.”
“We didn’t learn anything at school about this.”
“You were an excellent teacher,” Harry whispered in her ear.
Ginny blushed. “I think that’s a good idea, honestly. You should bring it up at the next staff meeting.”
Harry nodded. “You know…I might need another lesson.”
Ginny put her arms around the neck of a man she’d taught to see he was worthy of her love. Always had been. “You know, I do have some free time for tutoring.”