Judgment
It seemed impossible, now, to return to the normal life of the school. She should be thinking about exams and the whole end-of-term process. About handing over to Sendulla. Talking to Undine. Talking to Hector Le Blanc about finding more young Muggle-born wizards and witches, and persuading the Senate to fund them. And Beauxbatons still didn’t have an English teacher.
But instead she was punch-drunk from the excitements of the year, and just needed quiet, and peace, and time when she didn’t have to sprint from one crisis to another.
When she awoke that morning, there was a heaviness in her limbs, an unwillingness to engage. A rebellious feeling that it should just be an ordinary Sunday, a day of peace, and recovery. Instead, this was the day when the treaty would be signed, between Giants, Goblins and humankind – or at least one segment of each – and it would take place here, at Beauxbatons. The Gurg was here now, the King of the Giants, still something that made her twitchy. And Thorvak, Shorgak’s chief, was arriving this afternoon, and Auguste Ragno, the First Minister, so the three of them could sign the treaty. Even she had a part, as witness.
“It’s a great honour, Ginny,” McGonagall had said when Ginny had moaned to her about having to do so. “It means that all three parties respect you. That you helped bring them all together, in peace.”
“Shouldn’t it be Shorgak?” she’d argued. “It was her idea.”
McGonagall had shaken her head regretfully. “Shorgak is known to the Gurg - and Thorvak, of course - but she is an unknown to the First Minister. She will have to wait for her time for immortality.”
Still, she consoled herself. All I have to do today is not muck up my signature. She’d spent a multi-stranded Time-Shifter day yesterday making everything ready. So I don’t have to do anything at all this morning. Absolutely nothing.
She opened her eyes as the idea grew within her, and she stretched luxuriously.
She was startled when Gosse turned over and sat up. Sunday morning? Gosse?
“Have you time now?” he asked urgently.
She knew enough of him to realise this wasn’t his idea of an amorous advance. He didn’t need words for those. “Gosse, really? Now?”
Her tired mind then had to grapple with what he was saying. Still, this was one of the Gosses she loved, the most intense one, really, the one who had an idea for a painting, an idea that couldn’t wait, an idea that everything else had to bow to.
“Wait,” she said after a while. “Four of us?”
He looked at her in amazement. “No! Five! The three goddesses, and the shepherd, and the beautiful young girl! All the goddesses looking… looking as beautiful as possible, all wanting to win the shepherd, so they can win the contest… But they have their different ways of winning him. One wants to make him King of everything, one to make him a heroic warrior, and one promises him the heart of the most beautiful mortal woman on Earth. Do you not know this story?”
“No. So who am I meant to be?” She toyed with the idea of being the world’s most beautiful woman, but suspected that Gosse would see things otherwise.
Gosse looked surprised. “Isn’t it obvious? You are Athena, goddess of war! You are the image that all men have, that they are brave warriors, they are heroes! You are used to winning the hearts of men!”
Well, I shouldn’t be surprised, she told herself in resignation. “So does that mean I win?”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “Now, Hera, she is about power, and wealth, something else that men want! She makes men greedy, and uncaring. That is hard to show, I think. That will be a challenge.” His hand was shaking as he touched his head. “I have this idea, about who that should be, but she will not agree. So if necessary my mother should take the rôle.”
“So who did you want to ask?” Ginny asked, intrigued.
“It’s obvious, I think,” he said, in surprise. “It should be Apolline Delacour.”
“Apolline? You’re kidding. She’s just lost her brother!”
“But this is very important! Do you not see?”
“Gosse, either way, she won’t take her clothes off for you!”
“But you can just ask her,” he urged. “She might say yes.”
“Me ask her? Gosse, we don’t get on! And Apolline is all about secrecy, not baring all!”
“But she is related to you, and all know that. She gives nothing away, yes? She is helping her family. It would be a… an indirection. She would like that, I think.”
“An indirection?” Ginny echoed in confusion.
“Yes! See, here I am, Apolline Delacour. I am nothing more than someone’s mother. Related to the Head of Beauxbatons by marriage. Look elsewhere for the woman who is a power in the Ministry!”
“Is that how you see her?” Ginny asked, intrigued.
“But of course! She is powerful, that one. I would adore painting her.”
“Gosse, are you trying to tell me something here? Are you moving on to someone else? She is married, don’t forget.”
Gosse waved that away. “I have painted married women before. They enjoy it. They can pretend, they can forget their husbands, while they try to attach me. It is just a game for them.”
“Does that mean it’s a game for you too?”
“A game?” Gosse gaped at her. “It is painting!”
“So you don’t take them to bed?”
Another dismissive gesture. “That’s not important,” he said.
“I’m sorry I brought this up,” she said uneasily.
“No! No!” he said excitedly. “That is the wrong expression!” She was slow to realise he meant her face, not her words. “You are Athena, goddess of war! You do not see the possibility of defeat! You are supreme!”
“So I do win?”
“No! Because men are fickle. Because they thirst to be warriors, and kings, but they will give everything away for a beautiful girl. Or man,” he added. “But I am not the artist to paint that.” Another rare surprise for Ginny: An expression of modesty from Gosse.
“So who does win?”
Without warning, he laughed, he gathered her in his arms, he dragged her into an embrace and kissed her with rare passion. He broke away, his eyes dancing, while she recovered her breath, and poise.
“That is why I love you!” he said earnestly. “Because you care so much about winning! Cannot you imagine a world where no-one wins?” His hands were all over her, and she was mostly conscious of his nearness, his smell, his wonderful skin. But this was Gosse, of course, and his mind was already elsewhere.
“But in this story you will lose, I am sorry. The goddess of love is Aphrodite. She is beautiful, yes, and she knows her power, which makes her more beautiful. But the shepherd, he has eyes only for the beautiful mortal girl. Who wants to be married to a goddess, hunh? Apart from me?”
Overcome, she could only kiss him once more, and his hands were on her, cherishing her, but his mind wasn’t paying her any attention. “So the foolish shepherd, he sees only the incredibly beautiful girl that Aphrodite has brought.”
“So who…?”
“I think the real Aphrodite would have used a spell,” Gosse said, in excitement. “To disguise herself as Helen, the beautiful girl, but I cannot show that, and it is not how the old masters painted this. They don’t show the beautiful girl either, but I can break that rule, so I will.”
Ginny could only shake her head and shrug. “Now,” urged Gosse. “You must interview Apolline right now.”
Ginny sighed, defeated. “I should go and see her anyway,” she conceded. “About Poseidon.”
“And I will talk to Undine.”
“To Undine?” echoed Ginny. “You can’t drag her into this too!”
“But of course!”
“Gosse, she’s busy!”
Which seemed like an understatement to Ginny. Undine, to Ginny’s amazement, had raised no objection to becoming headmistress of Durmstrang. “I am Visendakona,” she had said with a shrug. “Henri will help me, and tell me what I need to do.”
“Do you trust Sendulla?” Ginny had asked nervously.
“You trusted him,” Undine had pointed out. “And he has never let you down. He did not tell you the secret of the House of Assembly, but that was not his secret to tell.”
“Look, don’t get your hopes up,” Ginny said as Gosse buttoned up her blouse. “Even if she would do it, she might be away. Gosse, why don’t we both go…?”
But somehow she found herself Twisting alone, and she was in Apolline’s curious little antechamber, knocking nervously on the door.
Apolline had not attended the Beauxbatons memorial service, and nor had any of her family. Ginny hoped that was because they’d attended their own family service for Poseidon instead. She’d sent a message of regret and sympathy to Apolline, but received no reply. She felt a huge guilt that she hadn’t yet been able to speak in person to Apolline, and dreaded their meeting.
The door opened, but it was Gabrielle, who lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “Did you want my mother?” she asked. “I am afraid she is not here. Is it something urgent?”
Ginny assured her it wasn’t, and in her relief found herself explaining to Gabrielle about Gosse’s new project.
Gabrielle’s immediate reaction was to break into peals of laughter. There were tears in her eyes by the time she managed to speak.
“My mother?” she gasped in glee. “Taking off her clothes for a painting? This is good, yes, this is very funny. No, I agree with you, she would never agree. Even for Gosse Holombec. Gosse has you wrapped around his little finger, hmm? That he could persuade you to ask Apolline Delacour to do the striptease…” And then she was laughing again.
“It’s not a striptease,” Ginny found herself saying, grumpily. “It’s art.”
But that made Gabrielle laugh all the more. “Well,” she said eventually. “I think it would be most unfair to make you take the bad news back to Gosse. Let us both go back together, and I will tell him.”
“No…” began Ginny, but Gabrielle had her arm, and they were Twisting.
Ginny had expected the house to be quiet when she got back, but she had woefully underestimated Gosse’s enthusiasm for his new painting. The kitchen was full - Ruby was preparing breakfast while Gosse argued with Anthony.
“In a painting?” Anthony was saying with blank amazement. “Me?”
“You have already been in one painting…” began Gosse, but to his surprise Anthony was interrupting him.
“That was to hide,” Anthony said, uncompromisingly. “This isn’t hiding.”
“But I want to show your lust for Undine…”
“I’m not showing that to anybody,” said Anthony.
Undine appeared then, looking entirely untroubled at the idea of having to appear in another Gosse painting, and, to Ginny’s surprise, was on Gosse’s side. She had Anthony’s hand in both of hers. “Don’t you want to record our love, Anthony?” she pleaded. “It would be very romantic!”
“I don’t want to record it,” said Anthony, mulishly. “I just want to enjoy it.”
“But you are the key to the painting!” Gosse objected. “You are the centre, with three goddesses trying to win your admiration, while you fall in love with another!”
“No,” said Anthony.
“I’ll ask Raz,” put in Ruby. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”
“What?” squawked Ginny. “Ruby, you can’t… He’s a…”
“A Hogwarts professor,” nodded Ruby. “So? You’re still a Beauxbatons headmistress. As well as other things now. And Undine’s a headmistress too.”
“Apolline doesn’t realise what she’s missing,” said Gabrielle. “She loves a good argument.”
Gosse looked round at her in puzzlement. He didn’t seem to have realised she was there. “Where is your mother?” he demanded, when he’d recognised her.
“She is in England,” said Gabrielle. “So I’ve come to apologise for that…”
“This is about you again, isn’t it?” Ruby said to Ginny. “You don’t want to be in a painting with Stonelake, even though you fancy him.”
“And I want to volunteer,” said Gabrielle. “To take my mother’s place in the painting.”
“I don’t fancy him!” Ginny objected hotly. “What did you say?” She turned to look at Gabrielle in amazement.
“I wish to model,” Gabrielle repeated. She was looking at Gosse, and Gosse was staring at her, transfixed.
“You can’t!” Ginny objected. “You’re too young!”
“I am old enough to marry,” said Gabrielle, coolly. “So I am old enough, I think.”
“You’re only fifteen…!”
“I was sixteen this week,” stated Gabrielle firmly. “This will be a nice present for me. So who is this professor I am trying to win?”
Gosse looked at her for several seconds, then shrugged.
“You are here, on the left,” he said. “You must have a crown, and a sceptre… Wait…” The crown Gosse produced was a simple circlet, one Ginny had seen before, that he placed deftly on Gabrielle’s head – she ducked briefly to let him – and the sceptre a piece of driftwood that she was given to hold.
“Now Ginny,” he said feverishly. “Next to her… That helmet again, I think, but not the same sword… But the sword in its sheath. You are not fighting him, you are trying to win him…” He was buckling a leather belt around Ginny’s waist, and then nearly skewering her as he thrust a light gold-coloured sword into her belt. “Look at me... Yes,” he nodded. “That is good. And Ruby, you are Aphrodite, goddess of love…”
“Flattered, I’m sure,” said Ruby. “What do I get to hold?”
“The rose, of course,” said Gosse, looking vaguely around the room. “Ginny, do we have any roses?”
“No…”
“I’ll go,” said Ruby, and she was across the room and out of the door, and in a remarkably short time she returned with a rose in each hand. “I wasn’t sure what colour,” she panted, holding them up for inspection.
“Not the red,” said Gosse, instantly. “The white… Yes, that is good… Stand like this… this…. One knee up, as if you barely touch the ground…. Let this hand relax… just the hand, not the arm… and in the other hand the rose, as if you are about to throw it away, to go to him…. Remember your own beauty…”
He was walking backwards now, his eyes intent, his head scanning them all. Ginny could still hear Ruby panting, and that was disturbing, somehow. “Undine? Now you… Kneel there. Face him…”
“But where is he?” asked Undine, reasonably.
Gosse looked momentarily baffled, that Undine could not already see his creation as he could. He hurried from the room, and returned with a dining chair which he placed on the opposite side of the room.
“Don’t get paint on that,” Ginny said automatically.
"Shall I go and fetch Raz?" prompted Ruby.
Gosse didn’t hear either of them, and he was talking feverishly once more. “No! No, face me. Head down. He is staring at you, but… Stretch one leg, that is still in the water… Yes, yes, pretend the water…. Yes, that is right. Yes!”
Gosse was gazing at them all, his mouth open, his eyes wide, in flattering wonder. Then his shoulders dropped.
“Why are you still wearing clothes?” he asked.
The room was a flurry of activity now as clothes came off and were flung away.
“Looks like we’re all making love to an umbrella this time,” said Ruby as she stepped out of her underwear.
Everyone else was fully naked when they realised that Gabrielle was still dressed. “Me as well?” she asked, innocently.
Gosse stared at her in surprise. “Of course,” he said simply.
“Oh,” said Gabrielle. But without further argument she began to undress.
At first Ginny felt embarrassed - Gabrielle was still a child, surely? - but then she realised that Gabrielle had merely delayed undressing so she could be sure of Gosse’s attention as she did so. And she didn’t undress like a young girl, embarrassed and diffident and hesitant, but with the confidence of a performer, her eyes on Gosse.
Once she was naked, she turned and picked up the sceptre branch once more – except that she must have Transfigured it while they weren’t looking, so now it was made of gold, with tiny jewels mounted along it. “Like this?” she asked. The crown in her hair was different, too, lighter, filigreed, the crown of a goddess.
She can’t have planned this, Ginny thought with annoyance. Is she that clever a witch? She certainly wasn’t a little girl any more. Ginny, who liked girls nearly as much as she liked men, had never been attracted to Gabrielle before, but standing next to her was struck how beautiful, how Veela-like, Gabrielle was.
Gosse, of course, was entirely comfortable in a roomful of naked girls. He was standing back and examining them as a group, then darting forward to move a head, a lock of hair, or an arm, praising and persuading in turn.
Someone was knocking on the front door. “I’ll go,” said Ruby, instantly.
“No!” said Gosse. “Do not move!”
The door knock was repeated, more loudly. Gosse muttered something and dropped his wand onto the easel.
“Stay like this,” he said.
He could say please, Ginny said to herself. Just sometimes. But she stayed in her pose, and as far as she could tell so did the others.
She could hear the door opening.
“Sorry to disturb you,” said a familiar voice. “Is Ginny here?”
Gosse didn’t reply, but now there were two sets of steps approaching.
Oh no, Ginny said to herself. Not now. Not now!
There was a squeak from Ruby, next to her. Undine looked up in amazement, but Gabrielle was no longer next to Ginny, and instead the girl’s arms were around the visitor, and she was hugging him, while Ginny could only stand there. She couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Amazing!” Gabrielle was squealing. “This is wonderful!” Even though she wasn’t looking at him, Ginny could see his eyes wide in shock, staring around at them all.
Ruby, still next to her, snorted with amusement. “Don’t mind us,” she said. “We’re just goddesses.”
“So why this honour?” Gabrielle was asking him. To Ginny’s relief, Gabrielle was stepping back from him, but she had his hands in hers, and she wasn’t covering herself, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
“The treaty signing,” he mumbled. “The French First Minister asked me.”
“Well, of course you should be here,” Gabrielle said, enthusiastically. “It’s wonderful that you are!”
He stirred, suddenly. “You’re all busy,” he said. “I should go.”
“No, stay,” said an unrecognisable voice. Mine, Ginny realised in confusion.
She could sense his head turning to look at her. “Really?”
She was conscious of Gosse staring at her, scowling at her as he always did when he was painting. “Yes,” said Gosse. “You must sit. Here.” He was urging the visitor to sit, in the dining chair. Fortunately he was out of Ginny’s eyeline now. “These,” he said then. “Take them off.”
“What?”
“Yes, of course. Everything. I need you for this painting. You are a shepherd from the golden past... Yes, and those…”
My face must be bright red, Ginny told herself numbly. All of me, probably. Why didn’t Gosse tell him to go?
“Your legs relaxed,” Gosse was saying. “Sprawled – yes, like that – but your core, that is rigid, you lean forward in your surprise, at seeing this perfect girl… Now, Gabrielle,” and Gabrielle was resuming her place. She’d dropped her props on the floor when she’d rushed to greet the visitor, and Gosse was picking them up for her, pushing them into her hands, re-posing her.
Is he staring at her?
Gosse was back at his easel, squinting at them all. His paint wand was in his hand, approaching the canvas. In the silence Ginny could hear her heart thudding.
Gosse’s hand dropped to his side. “No,” he said to himself. “I cannot do this.”
“Do you want me to leave?” asked the visitor.
“No,” said Gosse, crossly. “You are not the problem. Everything else is the problem. Undine should be serene, and instead she looks embarrassed. Ginny looks like she has already lost. And Ruby is… is smirking…”
Ginny was suddenly conscious of everyone around her.
“I’m not!” protested Ruby. “I don’t smirk…”
“Shall we ask Professor Stonelake?” asked Undine. “It could be easier then.”
“No!” said Gosse again. “Undine, come here. You are goddess now.” Undine looked confused, but obediently stood and came to stand next to Ruby.
“Yes, this is right. You stand there. Yes? Now, give… Ruby, give her the rose. Undine, hold it like this… This… You want to win him, you are tricking everybody… No… No, that does not work for you. No. You want him to choose you, but you see he is already lost to you, for all your beauty, even though you are goddess, hm? Yes! Yes, that is right…”
Ginny wanted to look at the shepherd, but still couldn’t.
“Ginny,” said Gosse suddenly in her ear. “I said, give your helmet to Ruby. Yes, and your sword and belt…”
Ginny was conscious of her helmet being removed, of hands at her waist, the weight of the sword leaving her. How can I be any more naked? Yet she was. Entirely defenceless.
“Now, Ginny,” Gosse was saying. His voice was quiet, and soft, as if her ears were full of cotton wool. He was leading her across the room, to where Undine had knelt. “Kneel, Ginny,” said Gosse’s voice. “You are in the pool now, you are washing, you see nothing.”
Yes, Ginny said to herself in confusion. I see nothing. Gosse’s hands were on her, moving her arms, her head.
“Yes!” Gosse was saying. “Better! Much better! Do not move!”
The shepherd was looking at her, but Ginny couldn’t move, couldn’t look at him. Because Gosse says so. Because I can’t look at him.
“But it is still wrong,” Gosse was saying. “I wanted innocence, unknowing.”
No, Ginny said to herself numbly. I’m not innocent. The image of the Hogwarts Express was in her eyes now, as it slithered, smashed, exploded.
“Ginny?” Gosse was saying. His voice was thick with emotion. “Look at him. You are no longer the innocent. You look at him, you are already in love with him, and he with you. It is a love that will break the world. Wars will rage, because it is so strong. Turn your head, Ginny.”
No. I can’t.
“Please, Ginny,” Gosse said gently. “You must do this.”
It took all her courage. She lifted her head, and, with a supreme effort, she turned her head, and looked at Harry Potter.
“Yes,” said Gosse, his voice barely recognisable. “That is perfect. That is exactly right.”