Fic: To Know What She's Seeking
Oct. 22nd, 2020 07:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
paulamcgThe reveals are up on the Harry Potter Ace Fest 2020. This story is mine.
Title: To Know What She's Seeking
Author:paulamcg
Pairing: Cho Chang/Luna Lovegood, Cho Chang & Roger Davies, Roger Davies/OMC, references to Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, to Remus Lupin/OC, to Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter, and to Luna Lovegood/Remus Lupin
Rating: PG-13
Contents: Homoromantic asexuality, bisexuality, male homosexuality, canon divergence after OotP, asexuality BC (before cake – at the time of amoebas)
Word Count: 4400
Summary: In January 2002 Cho takes pleasure in flying and dancing, and becomes aware of a deep need not long before she learns to see herself more clearly.
Notes: This was written for HP Ace Fest. Thank you, mods, for running a fest that gives more visibility to asexuality! Thank you,liseuse, for the beta, once again!
Read here on AO3.
or right here:
To Know What She's Seeking
Steering her brand new Firebolt 2002 up towards the overcast winter sky, Cho chooses to focus for a while on the pleasure of flying. She loves the jolt down in her belly, and the anticipation of the weird titillation in her crotch that she'll feel when veering lower and imagining she's about to fall.
In a moment she must begin to concentrate on her task of scanning the space above the pitch. But now she can still peer down at her team mates, who are listening to the coach's last instructions for today's practice. If she weren't committed to this role, in which she's been better than at anything else ever since school, she could be in closer contact with everyone in the team.
They are decent blokes, all of them, as far as Cho knows on the basis of how they talk. Mind, before Gwendolyn became their coach, they used to joke and boast about other conquests besides Quidditch victories in ways which made Cho – as the only witch on the team – feel uncomfortable. Even then they rather ignored than harassed her.
Cho's proud to have been accepted as the Seeker for the Montrose Magpies – to follow the great late Eunice Murray's broom twigs. Neville's mentioned to her more than once that his father played Keeper in this most successful team before the first war. And Luna – having finally returned from the prolonged field experiments for her Creature Study thesis – pointed out in her lovely way that Magpies are obviously the right choice for a Ravenclaw. Luna's pet magpie is even more intelligent than her exotic magical birds: grooms herself in front of a mirror.
Cho'd like to feel more strongly that she belongs to this band of players. But she sometimes wonders if she's intelligent enough. If she can even truly recognise herself in the mirror – in the way her friends have always known or have now figured out what they are. She's good enough for the simple task of spotting the Snitch and grabbing it promptly. When flying above the others, separated from their interaction – their serving and catching, aiming and parrying – she tends to question the value of her constant seeking.
Seeing one more player – with the black and white robes still in disarray – hurry to join the group makes Cho smile. After her captain from the Hogwarts team got selected from among the applicants to a Chaser position, she's got a real friend here.
Arriving late today and coming across Cho on his way to the changing rooms, Roger hardly had time to stop. Yet, he gave her a conspiratorial lopsided grin and whispered, “Heaven again tonight?”
The reason to stare at her face in the ladies' room mirror is only to reapply lipstick. After a couple of drinks, Cho remembers no deeper concerns. She's a pretty and bold young witch, and once again she's chosen to have fun fully like a Muggle, without charms that would deprive her of the small worries and joys of making sure she continues to look gorgeous.
Returning the lipstick to her handbag, she glances at a butch fixing another one's earring, and looks away when she guesses a kiss will follow. She focuses on the hem of her leather skirt for a moment. No, it's not riding up too high on her thighs. It amuses her to wear something flashy – even literally flashy like this fringed silvery top tonight. And at Heaven she can do it for her own enjoyment without any fear that men would show too much interest in her. Of course, she dresses up as much for Roger, who never fails to praise the chic disco feel of his faghag's outfit.
And here he is, waiting – taking care that they won't lose each other in the crowd. As soon as she's returned to the huge dark-walled hall with its flashing lights, she spots him leaning against the nearest column. He's tilting his head towards a pale, frail bloke – definitely his type, as far as she understands – and trying to communicate something through the thumping music.
Noticing Cho at his side, Roger lifts an arm on her shoulder and the other one on the pale boy's, and the two of them shake hands and exchange smiles.
"Let's dance!" she says, hoping to share a bit more with the pair.
The pounding, impersonal music pulses through her, and she lets its rhythm move her body. The newly-formed couple dance very close to each other, and she stays close enough to them so that nobody else will approach her, and if someone touches her by accident, it's all right. She takes a step back, gains more space and swirls around, flails her arms, lifts her face up – dances as if she were flying, and doesn't care if she looks far from cool and aloof.
Now she catches herself missing the pleasure of touching a friend when dancing. Remembering how it was to dance with Luna. Silly of her... She must have drunk too much. Luna... ages ago... She must have been fifteen, Luna only thirteen. Yes, it was soon after the awful Yule Ball, and Luna asked her to show how to dance with a partner.
She could ask Luna to come to Heaven. Luna wouldn't mind joining in – even mingling with – a crowd of gays. And she'd twirl, laugh, fly with Cho. Why not plan that? The more the merrier – like when Harry and Neville come. The couples just always want to leave so early.
That's right, now Roger's nudging her.
The streets are wet, glistening. Cho watches out for puddles and streams of water running across the pavement – not with caution, but for the fun of taking light side steps or leaps so as to avoid them. Oh, she must admit there's one charm she's used – to make her shoes look dainty but feel comfortable. Her feet are not sore at all.
And thanks to the unseasonable warmth of this gloomy January, she's not cold in her short skirt either. Her and Roger's woollen scarves are maybe too wintery, but she loves how wearing something so matching makes them look almost like siblings. And how Luna's knitted the blue and bronze stripes uneven – even unstable and shifting, albeit not in a Muggle's eyes.
This Muggle bloke, Sebastian, has eyes only for Roger's handsome face, or perhaps his arse, or whatever men find interesting in each other. The two of them have stayed a bit behind, but now they step up on either side of her and lock each an arm with hers. She's heard them talk about which one of them lives closer to the night club.
After all those extended mixes and repetitive dance beats, Cho welcomes the prompt to sing a line of her favourite song. "Closest to heaven..." she sings, and she continues by humming, with a smile.
"You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be," Sebastian sings, "And I don't want to go home right now."
Roger peers at him over Cho's head, winking. "It's settled then you're coming with me. We'll just walk Cho up Charing Cross Road first."
All right, once again he's found someone to take to his Muggle flat. Cho's not worried. He can take care of himself. And not jealous. He always takes care of her, sees that she gets safely to the door of The Leaky Cauldron. She's happy for him.
Sooner or later it's over... No, not hoping for the end of this budding relationship, or fearing the end of her friendship, she's only let the song go on in her mind.
"You're not sad, going home by yourself, are you?" Sebastian asks.
She smiles and sings on. "All I can taste is this moment." Glancing at each of them, she explains, "I've had a great time. This – these moments are enough for me."
Roger shakes his head. "I say we just have to find someone sexy enough to enthrall you." And he adds – addressing Sebastian but in a voice no less tender, "But she doesn't seem to know what she's seeking."
Cho manages to laugh. "I'm seeking nothing except... "
"Yeah, right, you're just a professional Seeker. We share sports as a career." Now he's changed the topic – in Sebastian's view all abruptly, of course.
"I can see you're a sportsman. What kind of sports?"
Cho hurries to reply, "Sometimes marathon, sometimes sprint." She detaches herself from their arms and gives Roger a quick half hug. "Now I can sprint the rest of the way. Thanks for tonight, and hope to see you, too, again, Sebastian."
Cho wakes up to a familiar whirring sound. Stretching in her queen-size bed – luxurious enough for her, albeit, according to Neville, only a small double, barely wide enough for a pair of queens – she enjoys listening to this music of her mornings off. It's fascinating to imagine how the freed Golden Snitches practise their flying and rub each other with their wings resonantly in the closed premises of Quality Quidditch Supplies downstairs. The bedsit above the shop is a perfect flat for her, who earns some extra Galleons by serving Bizzy Dunpollocks's most discerning customers.
Having let the persistent mid-winter gloom weigh her lids back closed, Cho now detects through them a flickering green glow. Who'd Floo call her this early...? Except Roger when having been walked out on by a promising new lover!
Sighing, Cho rolls out of bed and hurries to kneel on the hearthrug, wearing only her flimsy slip nightgown. "Yes, Roger?"
"Wotcher, Cho!" Luna's voice rings out all cheerful, and her wide eyes dance to view, coloured emerald by the flames. "Good to hear I'm not disturbing the two of you in your dawn cuddles!"
"No... I'm alone. Come right through!"
"Just what I wanted – to be alone with you. A moment..." There's a flash of green on a thin metal pipe Luna's placed between her pretty lips. "I'm refilling this."
She disappears – and appears again, standing among higher flames, wearing sheep-patterned pyjamas and holding a small bowl with the pipe in it. "This is for you," she says when stepping out of the fireplace. "I've drunk my matay."
"Your... what?"
"Matay. M – a – t – e. It's what you drink with your mates in Paraguay. Made of leaves of a species of holly." Luna crouches and places the bowl in Cho's hands. "And this cup is made of a calabash gourd. Just suck it all. It's refreshing like coffee. And now it's hot enough but the straw's not scalding."
Cho tastes the drink cautiously. You never know what to expect when Luna introduces something new to you. A drink might as well be not liquid at all – but something like a powder to tickle your tongue or make you purr, or... Mate turns out to be a real drink, and a bitter one, but Cho finds it easy to smile when Luna, having finished lighting up a warming fire in the hearth, leans closer and stares at Cho's face to see her honest response to the taste.
Perhaps it's the taste of this moment as a whole that makes Cho feel there's the purring of a sated cat deep inside of her. And suddenly she knows what Johnny Rzeznik's words about breathing someone's life can mean to her. All she can breathe – all she wants to breathe – is Luna's life.
Luna's so full of life and surprises and sense of wonder. Luna's always made her feel better – ever since New Year's Day 1995, when Cho confessed to her alone that she didn't want to be kissed by Cedric or Harry, or anyone at all.
"Thank you!" Cho breathes out, hoping that Luna can feel some of her bliss. "Your mate's the best morning drink ever. And you're my best mate."
"Not Roger?" Luna's voice is as calmly curious as always, but is there a new blush on her rosy cheeks?
"He's... a best mate, too." Now Cho feels an urgent need to make something clear. "He and I, we share a lot more than I share with my other good mates from school. Of all those gays, he's the one without a permanent partner now. But I don't cuddle with him."
There's still no sign of flirting in Luna's sincere face. And why would Cho expect anything akin to the exchanges between Roger and his catches?
"Perhaps I could be something different," Luna says thoughtfully.
"You've always been something different."
When, in the first years after school and after the war, they kept seeing each other in Diagon Alley and at their mates' housewarming and birthday parties, then engagement parties, Luna always stood out – not as a misfit any longer, but as the eccentric spirit in the company. Other people often acted like characters in those romance films Cho'd gone to see with Muggleborn friends and others excited about Muggle entertainment, until she admitted to herself that the films bored or repulsed her. But Luna always had unusual topics to discuss. The way she, as a student at Merlin College, sought to find out about various creatures' needs and to defend their rights proved her truly intelligent, curious and compassionate. Cho simply had to admire her. And for several months before Luna left for South America, Cho was thrilled to be asked out flying with her almost every week. In wilderness at dawn or dusk, Cho took her to places where they could spot rare beasts, or birds, Cho's favourite creatures, even a pair of Golden Snidgets.
Luna's taken the empty gourd from Cho and placed it on the floor, then placed her fingers on Cho's hand where it's resting on her thigh that's barely covered by the almost translucent fabric. "You've always been... sleepy in the morning. You want to go back to bed?"
"No, I'm good here. It's not too cold, thanks to the fire you kindled."
"At least rest your head in my lap."
They're sitting so close to each other on the hearthrug that when Cho obediently leans against Luna, she ends up pressing a cheek on her soft breasts. "I missed you," she barely has the mind to whisper, as she feels Luna's heartbeat traverse into her own body, making her more fully alive than she's ever been.
"Now I won't go travelling," Luna says soothingly. "I'd like to be with you – more often alone with you. I think I'm bisexual."
Before Cho can come up with a response, loud hooting and rapping make her sit up. Luna's got her wand out and the window opened without delay. It's Roger's owl, the one he keeps in his Muggle flat. Of course, that's where he's been abandoned by Sebastian.
The owl settles on Cho's arm and stretches its leg towards her face demandingly. She detaches the note.
Don't worry. Sebastian wants to keep meeting me. He just had to leave early. But he showed me something you need to see. Come here soon!
"You must go to him?"
"I'm sorry. Can I meet you later today? Apparate to our spot on Birks Fell at sunset?"
"Sure. With our broomsticks." Luna grabs the gourd, stands up, and reaches for the Floo powder on the mantlepiece. "I love flying with you."
"Great." Cho stares at the sheep – no, they must be llamas – on the pyjamas, and lifts her gaze to Luna's eyes at the last moment before the face is licked by green flames. "I love... I think I love you."
Cho enjoys walking all the way to Craven Street. After leaving Diagon Alley with its mainly less tall buildings behind and exiting the Leaky Cauldron to Charing Cross Road, she can no longer see the pale sun, still too low to give as much warmth as what has disappeared up to the clearing sky at night. There's finally a fresh chill in the air, and Cho revels in winding the whole length of the precious Ravenclaw scarf around her neck and up to her ears. The bronze yarn appears to radiate warmth while weaving new patterns, entwining with the cooler blue.
By Apparating she'd have got to Roger too abruptly. Otherwise she could have done that, as she's hardly hungover any longer. And she's definitely not drunk. Still, she feels even more lighthearted and confident than at Heaven. The whole world around her seems to have evolved into a more lovable, colourful reality.
She finally feels that she belongs to the crowd. She and Luna love each other like those butches with matching earrings do, and like Harry and Neville do. She can barely wait to tell Roger – while she takes pleasure in every moment when she can imagine she's still alone with Luna just as she'll be again this evening.
"I've got something to tell you, too," she blurts out as soon as Roger opens the door. "But show me first what you think I need to see!"
Cho hasn't tried to guess what it could be. It can't possibly be anything she really needs for herself. Just as she's said to Sebastian, too, she hasn't sought anything. She hasn't been aware of needing anything – until Luna's suddenly come out to fill a deepest need. The need to be the closest one for somebody.
No, it must be something Roger needs her to know. She must focus on this best mate now.
He's turned to lead the way towards the desk occupied by the Muggle devices he uses for playing simulations of strange sports. Did he look a bit apprehensive? He's dragging his feet – but perhaps only because he's got them in slippers. He's still wearing a bathrobe, and his hair's standing up, having been dried hastily with a towel, and there's a hickie at the nape of his neck.
"Sit down here and read this – or as much of this as you feel like reading. If this makes sense to you."
Cho's a bit disappointed that there's only text on the screen. For a moment she's hoped for such a confusing mixture of loud sounds and fast-moving pictures that Roger's tried to teach her to influence by pressing the right buttons.
"What's...?"
Asexual: A person who does not experience sexual attraction.
That's clear and right. Yes... that's what she is! This is finally the real and magical mirror that reflects her image – still in confusing enough lines to make her pulse race. But she can focus on the beautiful, reassuring words.
Sexual relationships ... asexual people simply don't feel compelled to form them ... asexual people fall in love ... nonsexual relationships can be just as close and intimate as sexual ones ... emotional expression, fun, physical closeness ... can be done nonsexually.
"Right," Cho hears herself say. "Thank you."
Roger's laid a hand on her shoulder. "It's up to you if you choose it fits you. That's what Sebastian says. If you want to call yourself asexual." And as Cho fails to reply, he adds, "Are you upset?"
"Sebastian? Why's he got to say anything about..."
"He knows someone else who... doesn't want sex at all. He just thought perhaps you'd like to know that other such people exist, and now Muggles who are like that can find each other on their World Web. Out there they've also got a group where they send messages. Haven's what they call it – for the human amoeba. They call themselves..."
"Amoebas? I know. Luna's talked about those creatures. Simple, one-celled, they reproduce... asexually." Now she can't help starting to laugh.
She swirls around in the chair and buries her face in the soft fabric of Roger's robe, laughing with tears in her eyes.
"I wouldn't say you're that simple," Roger says with a cautious chuckle.
"At least you can stop looking for someone that would attract me better than you do – or Luna..."
"With help from Sebastian, you could get in touch with other... amoebas."
"No, I don't think I want that." Cho draws in a shuddering breath. "Thanks, but... I can be close to a different creature, too."
Can she?
Opening her mouth first, so as to taste and not only smell the pure and harsh frigidity of North Yorkshire wilderness, Cho fills her lungs. That should be enough to make her recover from the Apparation. However, when she gazes at the frozen waters of the tarn, she finds her eyes still streaming, although she closed them tight before focusing on the spell. But there is a strong wind on this stony shore, this high on the slopes of Birks Fell.
The rough dragon hide of her Quidditch glove scrapes her skin as she tries to wipe the tears off her cheeks. She's done her crying at the moment of truth in Roger's flat and, after their lunch, alone in hers.
Now she's determined to enjoy whatever she and Luna can share. At least tonight she won't be missing the girl she loves. Tilting her head back, she sees the sky all streaked with wisps of scarlet clouds.
And when she looks back down on the ground, their glow's reflected on the thin layer of snow – and on Luna, who's appeared a few yards further on the edge of the ice. Holding her old sturdy broom in one hand, Luna waves with both. She's wearing mismatched mittens, and only a few strands of her luminous hair have escaped from under her hood.
"Let's fly down the slope towards the woods," she shouts from a distance, without a word – let alone a touch – of greeting.
Biting her lip, Cho mounts the Firebolt. Could it be that Luna would like to hug and kiss her, but is nervous, or at least wary of touching her in ways she might not like?
"I'm so happy to be here with you," Cho says, steering her broom next to hers, but maybe her voice is too soft.
"It's warmer down there, and perhaps we can spot a black grouse. No ring ouzels, of course not. They winter in the Mediterranean. You know, when Remus showed this place to me, we saw a pair join a loose flock for migration. And he told me how he used to watch the birds with his friends. He taught Sirius to imitate their song, and at the end of the school year when he was our teacher, he hoped the two of them could leave together for the Mediterranean."
Cho can barely follow what Luna's saying. What's clear is she keeps talking about Lupin. Reminding Cho that this place is not only hers and Luna's.
"Remus loved him, still loves him, but he's learnt that he can love another, too."
Luna's never got over the crush he had on Professor Lupin. Cho'd rather not dwell on those parts of their conversation on that shiny New Year's Day, but she can't erase from her memory that Lupin was not – and, all through these years, has not been – far from the centre of Luna's thoughts. It had originally – a year earlier – been Lupin's advice to Luna that they had better wait to find out whom they really wanted to kiss. And Lupin's example inspired Luna to apply to Oxford University with the intention to contribute to separating study of beasts from study of intelligent creatures. Finally, Luna can hardly talk about any magical or mundane animal without referring to what Lupin's taught or shown to her. After her return she has no longer mentioned waiting for their relative age difference to get small enough. Perhaps that's because she no longer needs to wait, or because Lupin's got a partner.
"He's got a partner now?" Cho ventures to ask. "Wizard or witch?"
"Remus? Yes. But... neither, exactly. It's real that he can love man, woman, and other." Luna's steered closer, and now she places a hand on Cho's, forcing Cho to move their joint hands quickly on Luna's broom so as to stop it from wobbling. "And my point is I understand that I can, too."
Cho feels out of balance in more than one sense, although she's simply a witch, a woman – just an asexual one. Homoromantic asexual is the term she's trying to get used to – the one she's chosen on the basis of what Sebastian explained to Roger. Or... "Even amoebas?"
Luna laughs. "Theoretically, in case... The point is that now I love you."
She must have forgotten that a broom is not like a Thestral, not able to steer itself. They're both losing height rapidly. Cho should be able to handle any situation when flying, but perhaps she doesn't mind veering to Luna's side, feeling the sweet abandon, and – with her – falling... in love.
"Oh Luna, love... But let's land!"
They tumble onto frozen heather near a line of firs. Right in front of them a dark flurry with a flash of white rises with a stentorian, bubbling hoot, and Cho discerns only the shape of a wide, forked tail.
"What a heathcock! Magnificent! Shame we scared him off." Luna laughs again, dropping her broom and hugging Cho. "But I've got no real need for cocks now."
Cho feels Luna's warm breath against her neck, the body firmly against hers, and the complete bliss of sharing.
"You... you're the closest to..." is all she manages to say before Luna presses mittened fingers onto her lips.
"If we walk quietly through the woods," Luna whispers, picking up her broom, "we can spot both red squirrels and quirrells. You don't mind heading for the George, do you? The inn in Hubberholme. That's where Remus... Never mind. I've reserved a room for you and me."
"I... I don't know if I can be for you what you expect. Let me..." Now Cho's voice is at least soft enough a whisper. "I want you to know who I am."
"I know, I've known since I was thirteen... It's real that, unlike me, you don't want kisses."
"Or sex. I'm asexual."
"An intelligent, beautiful human amoeba. As I told you back then, that's fine with me. We'll dance in our private room, and perhaps you won't mind if I touch myself, watching you dance."
Cho can hardly comprehend her joy, and she doubts she wants the world to see it, because they can't possibly understand. But she squeezes Luna's hand, following her to a path they'll weave around trees. Luna, as incredible as ever, believes that the two of them will be happy together.
Notes: Cho's favourite song in 2002 was Iris by Goo Goo Dolls.
The phrases Cho reads on Roger's computer are from AVEN (Asexual Visibility and Education Network) 2002 homepage, which I found in this blog post: Asexuality BC (Before Cake) by Nat Titman. Haven for the Human Amoeba was the name of a Yahoo Group founded in 2000.
The prompt was number 90: Cho Chang has never understood sex. She’s always been uncomfortable watching it in a movie or listening to her friends talk about it. As she’s grown older, she’s realized that no one else she knows feels this way. I’d love to see her finding queer spaces and meeting other people who feel the same way, learning the words that feel right to call herself. Once she does understand that she’s asexual, she realizes that she still wants a romantic relationship, just not a sexual one, so she decides to try dating. She finds another person who she’s comfortable with and who understands her and they skip off into the sunset. I’d love if it were Cho/Luna or Cho/Hermione!
Title: To Know What She's Seeking
Author:
paulamcgPairing: Cho Chang/Luna Lovegood, Cho Chang & Roger Davies, Roger Davies/OMC, references to Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, to Remus Lupin/OC, to Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter, and to Luna Lovegood/Remus Lupin
Rating: PG-13
Contents: Homoromantic asexuality, bisexuality, male homosexuality, canon divergence after OotP, asexuality BC (before cake – at the time of amoebas)
Word Count: 4400
Summary: In January 2002 Cho takes pleasure in flying and dancing, and becomes aware of a deep need not long before she learns to see herself more clearly.
Notes: This was written for HP Ace Fest. Thank you, mods, for running a fest that gives more visibility to asexuality! Thank you,
liseuse, for the beta, once again!Read here on AO3.
or right here:
To Know What She's Seeking
Steering her brand new Firebolt 2002 up towards the overcast winter sky, Cho chooses to focus for a while on the pleasure of flying. She loves the jolt down in her belly, and the anticipation of the weird titillation in her crotch that she'll feel when veering lower and imagining she's about to fall.
In a moment she must begin to concentrate on her task of scanning the space above the pitch. But now she can still peer down at her team mates, who are listening to the coach's last instructions for today's practice. If she weren't committed to this role, in which she's been better than at anything else ever since school, she could be in closer contact with everyone in the team.
They are decent blokes, all of them, as far as Cho knows on the basis of how they talk. Mind, before Gwendolyn became their coach, they used to joke and boast about other conquests besides Quidditch victories in ways which made Cho – as the only witch on the team – feel uncomfortable. Even then they rather ignored than harassed her.
Cho's proud to have been accepted as the Seeker for the Montrose Magpies – to follow the great late Eunice Murray's broom twigs. Neville's mentioned to her more than once that his father played Keeper in this most successful team before the first war. And Luna – having finally returned from the prolonged field experiments for her Creature Study thesis – pointed out in her lovely way that Magpies are obviously the right choice for a Ravenclaw. Luna's pet magpie is even more intelligent than her exotic magical birds: grooms herself in front of a mirror.
Cho'd like to feel more strongly that she belongs to this band of players. But she sometimes wonders if she's intelligent enough. If she can even truly recognise herself in the mirror – in the way her friends have always known or have now figured out what they are. She's good enough for the simple task of spotting the Snitch and grabbing it promptly. When flying above the others, separated from their interaction – their serving and catching, aiming and parrying – she tends to question the value of her constant seeking.
Seeing one more player – with the black and white robes still in disarray – hurry to join the group makes Cho smile. After her captain from the Hogwarts team got selected from among the applicants to a Chaser position, she's got a real friend here.
Arriving late today and coming across Cho on his way to the changing rooms, Roger hardly had time to stop. Yet, he gave her a conspiratorial lopsided grin and whispered, “Heaven again tonight?”
The reason to stare at her face in the ladies' room mirror is only to reapply lipstick. After a couple of drinks, Cho remembers no deeper concerns. She's a pretty and bold young witch, and once again she's chosen to have fun fully like a Muggle, without charms that would deprive her of the small worries and joys of making sure she continues to look gorgeous.
Returning the lipstick to her handbag, she glances at a butch fixing another one's earring, and looks away when she guesses a kiss will follow. She focuses on the hem of her leather skirt for a moment. No, it's not riding up too high on her thighs. It amuses her to wear something flashy – even literally flashy like this fringed silvery top tonight. And at Heaven she can do it for her own enjoyment without any fear that men would show too much interest in her. Of course, she dresses up as much for Roger, who never fails to praise the chic disco feel of his faghag's outfit.
And here he is, waiting – taking care that they won't lose each other in the crowd. As soon as she's returned to the huge dark-walled hall with its flashing lights, she spots him leaning against the nearest column. He's tilting his head towards a pale, frail bloke – definitely his type, as far as she understands – and trying to communicate something through the thumping music.
Noticing Cho at his side, Roger lifts an arm on her shoulder and the other one on the pale boy's, and the two of them shake hands and exchange smiles.
"Let's dance!" she says, hoping to share a bit more with the pair.
The pounding, impersonal music pulses through her, and she lets its rhythm move her body. The newly-formed couple dance very close to each other, and she stays close enough to them so that nobody else will approach her, and if someone touches her by accident, it's all right. She takes a step back, gains more space and swirls around, flails her arms, lifts her face up – dances as if she were flying, and doesn't care if she looks far from cool and aloof.
Now she catches herself missing the pleasure of touching a friend when dancing. Remembering how it was to dance with Luna. Silly of her... She must have drunk too much. Luna... ages ago... She must have been fifteen, Luna only thirteen. Yes, it was soon after the awful Yule Ball, and Luna asked her to show how to dance with a partner.
She could ask Luna to come to Heaven. Luna wouldn't mind joining in – even mingling with – a crowd of gays. And she'd twirl, laugh, fly with Cho. Why not plan that? The more the merrier – like when Harry and Neville come. The couples just always want to leave so early.
That's right, now Roger's nudging her.
The streets are wet, glistening. Cho watches out for puddles and streams of water running across the pavement – not with caution, but for the fun of taking light side steps or leaps so as to avoid them. Oh, she must admit there's one charm she's used – to make her shoes look dainty but feel comfortable. Her feet are not sore at all.
And thanks to the unseasonable warmth of this gloomy January, she's not cold in her short skirt either. Her and Roger's woollen scarves are maybe too wintery, but she loves how wearing something so matching makes them look almost like siblings. And how Luna's knitted the blue and bronze stripes uneven – even unstable and shifting, albeit not in a Muggle's eyes.
This Muggle bloke, Sebastian, has eyes only for Roger's handsome face, or perhaps his arse, or whatever men find interesting in each other. The two of them have stayed a bit behind, but now they step up on either side of her and lock each an arm with hers. She's heard them talk about which one of them lives closer to the night club.
After all those extended mixes and repetitive dance beats, Cho welcomes the prompt to sing a line of her favourite song. "Closest to heaven..." she sings, and she continues by humming, with a smile.
"You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be," Sebastian sings, "And I don't want to go home right now."
Roger peers at him over Cho's head, winking. "It's settled then you're coming with me. We'll just walk Cho up Charing Cross Road first."
All right, once again he's found someone to take to his Muggle flat. Cho's not worried. He can take care of himself. And not jealous. He always takes care of her, sees that she gets safely to the door of The Leaky Cauldron. She's happy for him.
Sooner or later it's over... No, not hoping for the end of this budding relationship, or fearing the end of her friendship, she's only let the song go on in her mind.
"You're not sad, going home by yourself, are you?" Sebastian asks.
She smiles and sings on. "All I can taste is this moment." Glancing at each of them, she explains, "I've had a great time. This – these moments are enough for me."
Roger shakes his head. "I say we just have to find someone sexy enough to enthrall you." And he adds – addressing Sebastian but in a voice no less tender, "But she doesn't seem to know what she's seeking."
Cho manages to laugh. "I'm seeking nothing except... "
"Yeah, right, you're just a professional Seeker. We share sports as a career." Now he's changed the topic – in Sebastian's view all abruptly, of course.
"I can see you're a sportsman. What kind of sports?"
Cho hurries to reply, "Sometimes marathon, sometimes sprint." She detaches herself from their arms and gives Roger a quick half hug. "Now I can sprint the rest of the way. Thanks for tonight, and hope to see you, too, again, Sebastian."
Cho wakes up to a familiar whirring sound. Stretching in her queen-size bed – luxurious enough for her, albeit, according to Neville, only a small double, barely wide enough for a pair of queens – she enjoys listening to this music of her mornings off. It's fascinating to imagine how the freed Golden Snitches practise their flying and rub each other with their wings resonantly in the closed premises of Quality Quidditch Supplies downstairs. The bedsit above the shop is a perfect flat for her, who earns some extra Galleons by serving Bizzy Dunpollocks's most discerning customers.
Having let the persistent mid-winter gloom weigh her lids back closed, Cho now detects through them a flickering green glow. Who'd Floo call her this early...? Except Roger when having been walked out on by a promising new lover!
Sighing, Cho rolls out of bed and hurries to kneel on the hearthrug, wearing only her flimsy slip nightgown. "Yes, Roger?"
"Wotcher, Cho!" Luna's voice rings out all cheerful, and her wide eyes dance to view, coloured emerald by the flames. "Good to hear I'm not disturbing the two of you in your dawn cuddles!"
"No... I'm alone. Come right through!"
"Just what I wanted – to be alone with you. A moment..." There's a flash of green on a thin metal pipe Luna's placed between her pretty lips. "I'm refilling this."
She disappears – and appears again, standing among higher flames, wearing sheep-patterned pyjamas and holding a small bowl with the pipe in it. "This is for you," she says when stepping out of the fireplace. "I've drunk my matay."
"Your... what?"
"Matay. M – a – t – e. It's what you drink with your mates in Paraguay. Made of leaves of a species of holly." Luna crouches and places the bowl in Cho's hands. "And this cup is made of a calabash gourd. Just suck it all. It's refreshing like coffee. And now it's hot enough but the straw's not scalding."
Cho tastes the drink cautiously. You never know what to expect when Luna introduces something new to you. A drink might as well be not liquid at all – but something like a powder to tickle your tongue or make you purr, or... Mate turns out to be a real drink, and a bitter one, but Cho finds it easy to smile when Luna, having finished lighting up a warming fire in the hearth, leans closer and stares at Cho's face to see her honest response to the taste.
Perhaps it's the taste of this moment as a whole that makes Cho feel there's the purring of a sated cat deep inside of her. And suddenly she knows what Johnny Rzeznik's words about breathing someone's life can mean to her. All she can breathe – all she wants to breathe – is Luna's life.
Luna's so full of life and surprises and sense of wonder. Luna's always made her feel better – ever since New Year's Day 1995, when Cho confessed to her alone that she didn't want to be kissed by Cedric or Harry, or anyone at all.
"Thank you!" Cho breathes out, hoping that Luna can feel some of her bliss. "Your mate's the best morning drink ever. And you're my best mate."
"Not Roger?" Luna's voice is as calmly curious as always, but is there a new blush on her rosy cheeks?
"He's... a best mate, too." Now Cho feels an urgent need to make something clear. "He and I, we share a lot more than I share with my other good mates from school. Of all those gays, he's the one without a permanent partner now. But I don't cuddle with him."
There's still no sign of flirting in Luna's sincere face. And why would Cho expect anything akin to the exchanges between Roger and his catches?
"Perhaps I could be something different," Luna says thoughtfully.
"You've always been something different."
When, in the first years after school and after the war, they kept seeing each other in Diagon Alley and at their mates' housewarming and birthday parties, then engagement parties, Luna always stood out – not as a misfit any longer, but as the eccentric spirit in the company. Other people often acted like characters in those romance films Cho'd gone to see with Muggleborn friends and others excited about Muggle entertainment, until she admitted to herself that the films bored or repulsed her. But Luna always had unusual topics to discuss. The way she, as a student at Merlin College, sought to find out about various creatures' needs and to defend their rights proved her truly intelligent, curious and compassionate. Cho simply had to admire her. And for several months before Luna left for South America, Cho was thrilled to be asked out flying with her almost every week. In wilderness at dawn or dusk, Cho took her to places where they could spot rare beasts, or birds, Cho's favourite creatures, even a pair of Golden Snidgets.
Luna's taken the empty gourd from Cho and placed it on the floor, then placed her fingers on Cho's hand where it's resting on her thigh that's barely covered by the almost translucent fabric. "You've always been... sleepy in the morning. You want to go back to bed?"
"No, I'm good here. It's not too cold, thanks to the fire you kindled."
"At least rest your head in my lap."
They're sitting so close to each other on the hearthrug that when Cho obediently leans against Luna, she ends up pressing a cheek on her soft breasts. "I missed you," she barely has the mind to whisper, as she feels Luna's heartbeat traverse into her own body, making her more fully alive than she's ever been.
"Now I won't go travelling," Luna says soothingly. "I'd like to be with you – more often alone with you. I think I'm bisexual."
Before Cho can come up with a response, loud hooting and rapping make her sit up. Luna's got her wand out and the window opened without delay. It's Roger's owl, the one he keeps in his Muggle flat. Of course, that's where he's been abandoned by Sebastian.
The owl settles on Cho's arm and stretches its leg towards her face demandingly. She detaches the note.
Don't worry. Sebastian wants to keep meeting me. He just had to leave early. But he showed me something you need to see. Come here soon!
"You must go to him?"
"I'm sorry. Can I meet you later today? Apparate to our spot on Birks Fell at sunset?"
"Sure. With our broomsticks." Luna grabs the gourd, stands up, and reaches for the Floo powder on the mantlepiece. "I love flying with you."
"Great." Cho stares at the sheep – no, they must be llamas – on the pyjamas, and lifts her gaze to Luna's eyes at the last moment before the face is licked by green flames. "I love... I think I love you."
Cho enjoys walking all the way to Craven Street. After leaving Diagon Alley with its mainly less tall buildings behind and exiting the Leaky Cauldron to Charing Cross Road, she can no longer see the pale sun, still too low to give as much warmth as what has disappeared up to the clearing sky at night. There's finally a fresh chill in the air, and Cho revels in winding the whole length of the precious Ravenclaw scarf around her neck and up to her ears. The bronze yarn appears to radiate warmth while weaving new patterns, entwining with the cooler blue.
By Apparating she'd have got to Roger too abruptly. Otherwise she could have done that, as she's hardly hungover any longer. And she's definitely not drunk. Still, she feels even more lighthearted and confident than at Heaven. The whole world around her seems to have evolved into a more lovable, colourful reality.
She finally feels that she belongs to the crowd. She and Luna love each other like those butches with matching earrings do, and like Harry and Neville do. She can barely wait to tell Roger – while she takes pleasure in every moment when she can imagine she's still alone with Luna just as she'll be again this evening.
"I've got something to tell you, too," she blurts out as soon as Roger opens the door. "But show me first what you think I need to see!"
Cho hasn't tried to guess what it could be. It can't possibly be anything she really needs for herself. Just as she's said to Sebastian, too, she hasn't sought anything. She hasn't been aware of needing anything – until Luna's suddenly come out to fill a deepest need. The need to be the closest one for somebody.
No, it must be something Roger needs her to know. She must focus on this best mate now.
He's turned to lead the way towards the desk occupied by the Muggle devices he uses for playing simulations of strange sports. Did he look a bit apprehensive? He's dragging his feet – but perhaps only because he's got them in slippers. He's still wearing a bathrobe, and his hair's standing up, having been dried hastily with a towel, and there's a hickie at the nape of his neck.
"Sit down here and read this – or as much of this as you feel like reading. If this makes sense to you."
Cho's a bit disappointed that there's only text on the screen. For a moment she's hoped for such a confusing mixture of loud sounds and fast-moving pictures that Roger's tried to teach her to influence by pressing the right buttons.
"What's...?"
Asexual: A person who does not experience sexual attraction.
That's clear and right. Yes... that's what she is! This is finally the real and magical mirror that reflects her image – still in confusing enough lines to make her pulse race. But she can focus on the beautiful, reassuring words.
Sexual relationships ... asexual people simply don't feel compelled to form them ... asexual people fall in love ... nonsexual relationships can be just as close and intimate as sexual ones ... emotional expression, fun, physical closeness ... can be done nonsexually.
"Right," Cho hears herself say. "Thank you."
Roger's laid a hand on her shoulder. "It's up to you if you choose it fits you. That's what Sebastian says. If you want to call yourself asexual." And as Cho fails to reply, he adds, "Are you upset?"
"Sebastian? Why's he got to say anything about..."
"He knows someone else who... doesn't want sex at all. He just thought perhaps you'd like to know that other such people exist, and now Muggles who are like that can find each other on their World Web. Out there they've also got a group where they send messages. Haven's what they call it – for the human amoeba. They call themselves..."
"Amoebas? I know. Luna's talked about those creatures. Simple, one-celled, they reproduce... asexually." Now she can't help starting to laugh.
She swirls around in the chair and buries her face in the soft fabric of Roger's robe, laughing with tears in her eyes.
"I wouldn't say you're that simple," Roger says with a cautious chuckle.
"At least you can stop looking for someone that would attract me better than you do – or Luna..."
"With help from Sebastian, you could get in touch with other... amoebas."
"No, I don't think I want that." Cho draws in a shuddering breath. "Thanks, but... I can be close to a different creature, too."
Can she?
Opening her mouth first, so as to taste and not only smell the pure and harsh frigidity of North Yorkshire wilderness, Cho fills her lungs. That should be enough to make her recover from the Apparation. However, when she gazes at the frozen waters of the tarn, she finds her eyes still streaming, although she closed them tight before focusing on the spell. But there is a strong wind on this stony shore, this high on the slopes of Birks Fell.
The rough dragon hide of her Quidditch glove scrapes her skin as she tries to wipe the tears off her cheeks. She's done her crying at the moment of truth in Roger's flat and, after their lunch, alone in hers.
Now she's determined to enjoy whatever she and Luna can share. At least tonight she won't be missing the girl she loves. Tilting her head back, she sees the sky all streaked with wisps of scarlet clouds.
And when she looks back down on the ground, their glow's reflected on the thin layer of snow – and on Luna, who's appeared a few yards further on the edge of the ice. Holding her old sturdy broom in one hand, Luna waves with both. She's wearing mismatched mittens, and only a few strands of her luminous hair have escaped from under her hood.
"Let's fly down the slope towards the woods," she shouts from a distance, without a word – let alone a touch – of greeting.
Biting her lip, Cho mounts the Firebolt. Could it be that Luna would like to hug and kiss her, but is nervous, or at least wary of touching her in ways she might not like?
"I'm so happy to be here with you," Cho says, steering her broom next to hers, but maybe her voice is too soft.
"It's warmer down there, and perhaps we can spot a black grouse. No ring ouzels, of course not. They winter in the Mediterranean. You know, when Remus showed this place to me, we saw a pair join a loose flock for migration. And he told me how he used to watch the birds with his friends. He taught Sirius to imitate their song, and at the end of the school year when he was our teacher, he hoped the two of them could leave together for the Mediterranean."
Cho can barely follow what Luna's saying. What's clear is she keeps talking about Lupin. Reminding Cho that this place is not only hers and Luna's.
"Remus loved him, still loves him, but he's learnt that he can love another, too."
Luna's never got over the crush he had on Professor Lupin. Cho'd rather not dwell on those parts of their conversation on that shiny New Year's Day, but she can't erase from her memory that Lupin was not – and, all through these years, has not been – far from the centre of Luna's thoughts. It had originally – a year earlier – been Lupin's advice to Luna that they had better wait to find out whom they really wanted to kiss. And Lupin's example inspired Luna to apply to Oxford University with the intention to contribute to separating study of beasts from study of intelligent creatures. Finally, Luna can hardly talk about any magical or mundane animal without referring to what Lupin's taught or shown to her. After her return she has no longer mentioned waiting for their relative age difference to get small enough. Perhaps that's because she no longer needs to wait, or because Lupin's got a partner.
"He's got a partner now?" Cho ventures to ask. "Wizard or witch?"
"Remus? Yes. But... neither, exactly. It's real that he can love man, woman, and other." Luna's steered closer, and now she places a hand on Cho's, forcing Cho to move their joint hands quickly on Luna's broom so as to stop it from wobbling. "And my point is I understand that I can, too."
Cho feels out of balance in more than one sense, although she's simply a witch, a woman – just an asexual one. Homoromantic asexual is the term she's trying to get used to – the one she's chosen on the basis of what Sebastian explained to Roger. Or... "Even amoebas?"
Luna laughs. "Theoretically, in case... The point is that now I love you."
She must have forgotten that a broom is not like a Thestral, not able to steer itself. They're both losing height rapidly. Cho should be able to handle any situation when flying, but perhaps she doesn't mind veering to Luna's side, feeling the sweet abandon, and – with her – falling... in love.
"Oh Luna, love... But let's land!"
They tumble onto frozen heather near a line of firs. Right in front of them a dark flurry with a flash of white rises with a stentorian, bubbling hoot, and Cho discerns only the shape of a wide, forked tail.
"What a heathcock! Magnificent! Shame we scared him off." Luna laughs again, dropping her broom and hugging Cho. "But I've got no real need for cocks now."
Cho feels Luna's warm breath against her neck, the body firmly against hers, and the complete bliss of sharing.
"You... you're the closest to..." is all she manages to say before Luna presses mittened fingers onto her lips.
"If we walk quietly through the woods," Luna whispers, picking up her broom, "we can spot both red squirrels and quirrells. You don't mind heading for the George, do you? The inn in Hubberholme. That's where Remus... Never mind. I've reserved a room for you and me."
"I... I don't know if I can be for you what you expect. Let me..." Now Cho's voice is at least soft enough a whisper. "I want you to know who I am."
"I know, I've known since I was thirteen... It's real that, unlike me, you don't want kisses."
"Or sex. I'm asexual."
"An intelligent, beautiful human amoeba. As I told you back then, that's fine with me. We'll dance in our private room, and perhaps you won't mind if I touch myself, watching you dance."
Cho can hardly comprehend her joy, and she doubts she wants the world to see it, because they can't possibly understand. But she squeezes Luna's hand, following her to a path they'll weave around trees. Luna, as incredible as ever, believes that the two of them will be happy together.
Notes: Cho's favourite song in 2002 was Iris by Goo Goo Dolls.
The phrases Cho reads on Roger's computer are from AVEN (Asexual Visibility and Education Network) 2002 homepage, which I found in this blog post: Asexuality BC (Before Cake) by Nat Titman. Haven for the Human Amoeba was the name of a Yahoo Group founded in 2000.
The prompt was number 90: Cho Chang has never understood sex. She’s always been uncomfortable watching it in a movie or listening to her friends talk about it. As she’s grown older, she’s realized that no one else she knows feels this way. I’d love to see her finding queer spaces and meeting other people who feel the same way, learning the words that feel right to call herself. Once she does understand that she’s asexual, she realizes that she still wants a romantic relationship, just not a sexual one, so she decides to try dating. She finds another person who she’s comfortable with and who understands her and they skip off into the sunset. I’d love if it were Cho/Luna or Cho/Hermione!
