Ginny's eyes went very wide. "Montague?" she said. "You're related to a Slytherin? Wow. That's..."
She tried to remember what she knew about this particular one. Something about Fred and George and a toilet. And the Falcons and was he a Death Eater? An ST? Fuck, she couldn't remember.
"Never talked to Montague," she admitted. "Never thought I'd want to, but if he's family..." Yeah, this one would be hard. Death Eaters were the scum of the earth. STs... well, the bad ones anyway, weren't much better. Slytherins? In the great scheme of things they weren't exactly the worst of the worst. Not good, but...
It was her Ems. She had to be at least somewhat supportive.
"Must be weird," she managed. "To find out you have a whole family out there. Maybe it's good every Weasley can be directly traced to us by the way of our hair. If there were any sneaky siblings out there - a sister, please - we'd see her a mile away."
The beers were put on the table, and Ginny flashed the bartender a smile and gave him enough to cover their drinks and then some. Having as much money as she did these days was strange. She never knew what to do with them, and ended up buying drinks and food and tipping almost too well. She knew how little waitresses made to begin with, and if it gave her decent service wherever she went it was a small price to pay.
"I could totally be a GinWssssssly for the night. And when I make the England team it'll come back to bite me, 'here, look at the girl who can't spell her own name'..."
England. It had to be England.
"You know Zach Smith told me I could qualify for playing for Wales if I want? Been living there for so long. But seriously, the Welsh are vicious. They'd have my head for trying to kick out one of their own. And anyway, England is home. Always will be."