Ginny surreptitiously shuffled around the couch, sipping her firewhiskey. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were engrossed in conversation, but Ginny was more interested in the way Hermione’s new girlfriend reacted to the waving arms and cackling laughter.
They’d met at work, which Ginny conceded was a perfectly normal place to meet a romantic partner--except that Hermione had been making minimum wage as the lowest cog in a bureaucratic hellscape and Fleur was a chicken. There were some curious power imbalances at play, but Ginny was more concerned with the chicken aspect, and also the fact that Ron and Harry didn’t find it the slightest bit odd.
The trio had missed out on seeing each other since Hermione had…cut and run at work. There was a lot to catch up on--not the least of which being Harry and Ginny’s developing relationship or the developing relationship between Hermione and her former research subject and current chicken, Fleur.
If they’d talked about either in the hours they’d been there…Ginny had heard none of it. She took another sip from her firewhiskey as she finally rounded the back of the couch.
Fleur’s head snapped up, comb and wattle jiggling, and she fixed Ginny with one beady black eye.
Hermione lifted Fleur and kissed her chicken head, and even as the trio said their goodbye-for-nows, Fleur watched from her bubble backpack, head cocked and eye unblinking, at Ginny.
Ginny shook her head and whispered into her firewhiskey, “You know…the chicken thing? It does nothing for me.”