Disclaimer: Nothing! NOTHING! I OWN NOTHING, predictably.


Prologue

Waves curled on the white sand, topped with sparkling, white foam. The ocean was a perfect, deep blue, unlike the sea-green of other waters, the sand paler than other shores. Seagulls and cormorants spiraled overhead, the gulls darting, white wisps in the air, the cormorants flashing, dark shadows on the surface of the water.

It was early morning, the air fresh, expectant, and cool. The sky was brightening now, the gray of pre-dawn, pink on the horizon.

A gull chick, his colony fishing for oysters, fluffed his scruffy, gray, black-speckled feathers and pecked at a shell. It was white, striped with a pinkish purple that was nevertheless rather dark, and spiraled like a horn. Quickly bored, he hopped off, his long legs disproportionate to the rest of his body.

Footsteps, soft, deliberate, and barefoot, in the white, wet sand, and then a hand descended and closed around the shell, scooping it from the sand, and holding it up towards the dawn.

The man slipped the shell into his pocket, the tiny object lost in his palm. He turned his gaze to the sheer, dark cliffs, the top beginning to glow with sunlight, pale, yet bright. Lush green grasses and draping vines spilt over the cliff's edge, a blanket for the little white cottage at the top of the precipice.

Roses grew up its side, vines twining into the whitewashed, salt-sprayed wood. Light, and airy, awash with the light of dawn, he watched it. In an upstairs window, a light glowed, the flicker of firelight, becoming less noticeable in the rapidly growing sunlight tracing its path down the cliffs, towards sand and sea.

A baby's burble sounded, carried by the wind out, out over the sea.

He broke into a run, sprinting across the sand and up the sheer stone steps carved into the cliff, taking them two at a time until he reached the top, racing across the lush field, towards the house.

The man bolted up the stone path, slammed the door open, and, ignoring the faces around him, startled by his sudden entrance, headed for the stairs.

At the top of the narrow flight, a door stood slightly ajar, letting a glimpse of firelight flicker out into the hall. For the first time, he hesitated, heart in his throat, but he pushed his fear aside as he pushed the door open.

His wife sat by the window, in bed, the curtains billowing out into the room, bringing in the scent of salty, ocean air. The blue blankets were twisted around her legs, twined in a nest at her feet, and wrapped around the bundle in her arms.

"Fleur," he whispered, crossing the room and falling to his knees at her side.

She gave him a glowing smile, her face weary and her hair slicked to her forehead with sweat, but her smile blinded him. She laid a hand on his arm, then pulled it to her and laid it on the bundle in her arms.

"We 'ave a daughter," was all she said, her accent fading after years in Britain, but still noticeable, a light, exotic tone.

"A daughter." He could hardly breath. A father. He was a father.

The midwife stood in a shadowed corner, smiling at the couple. She picked up her bag and turned towards the door, meaning to leave the new parents in peace for a few minutes, but Bill stopped her arm.

"Will you wait a minute for the announcement, Padma?" he asked her. "Just . . . give us a moment."

"But of course." The young woman pushed the door shut behind her, her footsteps padding softly down the corridor, to the room she had been staying in for the past few days, in wait of this very event.

Bill brushed a lock of blonde hair back from his daughter's forehead, his scarred fingers gentle. He suddenly felt unworthy to be here, to have so much, with Fleur and their perfect child. Fleur seemed to sense his uncertainty, as she cupped the back of his head with one slender hand and kissed him on the lips.

"Next time, please don't make me wait outside," he told her.

"Next time, don't have a panic attack,' Fleur countered.

"I'll try."

"Je t'aime, mon cher," she whispered, then withdrew, smiling down at her newborn daughter. "Would you like to 'old 'er?"

"Yes," Bill breathed, and his wife patted the bed beside her. He sank down next to her, and she carefully placed the bundle in his arms. The baby was light, as if the was spun with sugar, and Bill held her as if she would break at any moment.

"Relax, chéri," Fleur told him, a smile on her beautiful face. "She does not bite."

Bill couldn't tear his eyes away from the creature in his arms. She was perfect, her features sweet and soft and pink, her hair, long for a newborns, not Fleur's platinum, but a warm strawberry-blonde, her eyes a bright blue, almost silver. Her mouth puckered slightly as she stared up at him, her eyes large under sweeping, dark lashes, her cheeks flushed rosily. Her little hands, dimpled and perfect, waved in the air as she kicked, unused to the space, the light, the faces. She cooed at her father, who had an endearing besotted-puppy look on his face, as he tucked the shell he had found on the beach into her blankets.

"Shall we let them in?" Fleur asked gently.

Bill nodded, his eyes not leaving his daughter's. Fleur gave him a knowing look, and gently called out to Padma that they were ready for the horde.

A moment later, Molly Weasley let the entire Weasley family in a stampede into the bedroom all simultaneously shushing each other with as much noise as possible. The first at the bedside, however, was not Molly, Arthur, or even one of Bill's siblings, but a small toddler with turquoise curls and nothing on but a diaper and a Weird Sisters t-shirt that probably belonged to his adored 'Ginnymummy.'

Teddy Lupin clambered onto the bed next to Bill and Fleur and eyes the latest Weasley skeptically. He was not a stranger to babies, as Ginny had been sure to tell him about how he would have a two new little friends very soon, both his Auntie Angelina's baby and his Auntie Fleur's. But this spectacle was very very different from what he had expected, and he watched her warily for signs of hostility.

She blew bubbles at him and flapped her arms. Teddy relaxed. Nothing that blew bubbles was going to attack him, a fact that his young mind was quite certain of. He screwed up his nose and turned his hair blond, like hers, and was delighted by the appreciative burble that issued from the tiny person.

Ginny, who had realized that Teddy had escaped from her clutches, spotted him at the bedside and quickly made her way through the pandemonium and snatched Teddy away from her brother and sister-in-law.

But Teddy struggled out of his surrogate mother's grasp and launched himself back at at the baby.

"Look! Look! Look, Ginnymummy! It's the bestest thing ever!"

The chaos died down as the family turned to the commotion. Teddy was bouncing at the foot of the bed, his hair the same shade of strawberry blond as the newborn's. "What's its name?" Teddy demanded of his aunt and uncle.

Bill and Fleur exchanged looks.

"Victoire Celeste Weasley," Fleur announced, smiling at the child in her husband's arms.

"It's so beautiful!" Molly Weasley burst into tears. It became well known later on that the slightest thing could cause waterworks on the birthday of a grandchild, at least in Mrs. Weasley's case.

Ginny threw her arms around Fleur's neck. She, too was crying, thick, happy tears. Teddy looked bewildered.

"I'm sorry I ever called you Phlegm!" Ginny wailed into her sister-in-law's neck, though it was hard to make out the words. Then, so the whole room could hear. "I'm an auntie!"

"And a godmother, too," Fleur told her with a smile. "We would 'ave named 'er Victoire Ginevra, but as you seem to dislike your name . . . "

"That is, if you want to be her godmother," Bill added, but Ginny's answer was lost when Molly Weasley burst into fresh tears and enveloped her youngest child and only daughter in an enormous hug.

When Molly had released Ginny, and Ginny had let out a tearful yes, and everyone in the room, even very pregnant Angelina Johnson-Weasley, had dissolved into to congratulations and squeals, no one noticed Teddy, except Fleur, whose lap he had crawled up on to have better access to the little baby.

Fleur watched him morph his blonde hair bright pink, to the awarding giggles of the little cherub, then begun to make literal funny faces at the infant until she was snatched from Bill's arms and passed around the room, to much squealing and cooing from the women, and especially from George, who had been mocking his wife's antics, and Ron, who was treated to amused look from Hermione and attempted to deny he had ever said "Wooza wooza wittle Wonnie's guwl?"

Fleur waited patiently for her child to be returned to her, but in the meantime, she drew Teddy onto her lap and wrapped her arms around him. The toddler snuggled into her arms and rested his head on her shoulder, and Fleur smiled.

A year before, that very day, Harry Potter (who was now refusing to pass his girlfriend's goddaughter along to her and attempting to deny that he was crying) had defeated Voldemort. A year ago that night, Teddy's parents had lost their lives. A year ago, George had lost his twin.

Fleur smiled as the Chosen One finally gave up and broke down in sobs over the infant. Yes, they had suffered in the past, and the past would never leave them, but now, today, that moment, there were children, and light, and laughter, and a little cottage, twined with roses, on a cliff by the sea. Now, they were alive.

Now, they were whole.

Seven years later . . . . .

Fleur Weasley tossed her blonde braid over her shoulder and bent down to search for the colander in a kitchen cabinet next to the sink. At that moment, she felt someone push her from behind. It wasn't strong enough to do anything but discombobulate her, and that fact, along with the muffled giggling, gave her the identities of the culprits.

She spun around, catching the vagabonds in the act. The giggling did not stop, but grew more choked as a result.

She waved the cleaver in her right hand menacingly at her harassers. "Oh no you don't! No petit gâteau for you tonight, my little troublemakers!" she threatened.

This time, the giggling was cut off, and desperate pleas filled the air.

"Non attends! J'ai faim!" Dominique begged.

Teddy blanched. "Wait! We didn't mean it!"

"Oh, non, maman, s'il te plait!" Vic said hastily.

"Nooo!" Lucy wailed.

"Nooo!" Fred Junior copied his cousin.

"We're sorry!" Roxanne Weasley said, eyes wide.

Kaede Weasley's face crumpled. "Please! I'm hungry!"

"C'était l'idée de Vic!" Louis declared, pointing to his sister.

"It was not!"

Fleur rolled her eyes, as her eldest dropped the French, which was merely an attempt to placate her mother. But one little rascal had not yet attempted to please his case, and, with a cheeky grin, James Potter wrapped his arms around his part-Veela aunt's knees and smiled cherubically.

"You're my favorite auntie," the two-year-old said cheekily.

In spite of herself, it took a great deal of effort to keep the stern expression on her face. "Ah, bien," she relented. "But run along, you little demons, before I ban you from the kitchen! Et comportez-vous," she added. The last was directed at her two, mainly seven-year-old Victoire, who gave her mother an insolent grin and darted off.

Fleur sighed, setting the cleaver on the counter. If anything, she could be certain that her eldest would definitely not behave herself. It was Wednesday night, which meant all the Weasleys were over for dinner at Shell Cottage. That meant Teddy and Vic, but mostly Vic, had the opportunity to get their cousins into trouble, and that was certainly something Vic wouldn't pass up. Their cousins being all those old enough to truly make mischief, meaning Roxanne, only a few months younger than Victoire, Lucy, Percy's eldest, Charlie's son, Kaede, James Potter, who, despite being only two, was a handful and a half, and Victoire's little siblings, Dominique and Louis.

Dom looked more like her mother than her sister, which was quite a statement, as Vic's Veela charm and pixie like features were all Fleur's, excepting a smattering of freckles akin to her godmother, Ginny's. Dom, however, was silvery-blonde to Vic's strawberry, a tiny version of Fleur, her hair straight and silky where Vic's was curly and untamed. Her personality was more Hufflepuff than anything else, however, and had already started a adoration for all magical creatures inherited from her Uncle Charlie. Louis, on the other hand, took after Fleur in both appearance and personality. Older than James Potter by three years,, this meant an eternity to the cousins, and Louis was twice as much trouble in a blonder package. With large, sparkly blue eyes, a mop of curly, strawberry-blonde hair, and a pair of irresistibly mischievous dimples, the so-called angel could get away with absolutely anything.

Bill walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around his wife from behind. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice muffled, as his face was buried in her hair. "I heard Vic yelling something about playing Wicked Witch."

Bill's concern was not unfounded. Last time Victoire had announced this game, Aunt Audrey had been accidentally turned into gingerbread. The incident had traumatized the already skittish woman, even though the effects had been reversed quickly enough.

"I'm fine," she told her husband, as he nuzzled her neck. "They came up from behind and tried to push me into a cabinet."

"Pretending it was an oven?" Bill chuckled.

Fleur pursed her lips. "George needs to stop encouraging him, or I'll make him sit at the children's table."

"Honeybunny, I never left the kid's table," came a voice from the doorway.

Fleur rolled her eyes at her brother-in-law. "Obviously."

"I'm wounded that you implied I could ever leave it," George continued.

"Out, out, out!" Fleur scolded, shooing both men out of the kitchen. "I have work to do!"

"I'll send cooking recruits in soon, don't worry," Bill called, as he released his wife and stepped out of the kitchen. George had already gone. "It's only, everyone's still recovering from the smokebomb Vic, Ted, and Roxanne set off in the garden . . . "

Fleur rolled her eyes and waved a spatula that seemed to have materialized in her hand, menacingly at her husband, and Bill, laughing, made his way out of the sunny kitchen.

Out in the garden, Vic had clambered into the apple tree leaning up against the side of the cottage. Teddy crouched next to her, hidden in the branches, his hair turning the same spicy green as the foliage. They sat, hidden in the thick leaf cover, watching Charlie, Harry, and Arthur set up the tables outside on the lawn.

"These apples are disgusting," Vic announced after a few moments, having taken a bite out of the small, hard, green fruit in a branch besides her. She spat out the sour morsel, giggling when it hit George in the back of the head. He glanced around, confused, then shrugged and walked off.

"I think they have to be red," said Teddy uncertainly.

Vic sulked. "They can be whatever color I want," she announced, screwing up her expression like Teddy did when he changed his appearance. The half-eaten apple in her hand turned a vivid purple color.

Teddy admired the effect, but promptly gave a shriek of horror.

"Your hand!" he whispered.

Vic looked down to find her hand, wrist, and forearm leeched with the purple stain. Instead of being concerned, she laughed good-naturedly and licked her arm.

"Try it," she said, offering her hand to Teddy. "It's grape-flavored."

A moment later, Harry Potter looked up from where he and Charlie were struggling with a folding table that refused to open, only to find his godson and his eldest niece racing through the garden, both bright purple and cackling madly. Everyone turned to stare as the two children raced over to where Roxanne was attempting to steal the petit fours from one of the tables, and Vic tackled her, pushing her to the ground. A moment later she was up again, racing away, and Roxanne watched in delighted fascination as her skin turned purple to match her two cousins. With a gleeful grin, she raced off after Louis, who, with a shriek, bolted off. The other cousins, Kaede, Lucy, Dom, Fred, and James scattered as Teddy and Victoire chased them around the yard, waving their arms and bellowing like erumpents.

"Do we want to know?" Harry asked Charlie, who shook his head vehemently.

Victoire soon became bored after all the little cousins had been infected with the Purple Plague, as Roxanne had taken to shouting at the top of her lungs, and turned towards the grown-ups. Fleur, watching out the kitchen window, laughed until she choked at the sight of eight grown men (Bill, Charlie, George, Percy, Ron, Harry, and Arthur) racing around the yard, attempting to escape the chubby fingers of their assailants.

"Accidental magic is something to watch out for, indeed," said Molly, behind her.

Fleur grimaced. "Knowing Victoire, it wasn't entirely accidental."

"Try it, it's grape flavored!" came a shout from their yard. It had become the widely acknowledged battle cry of the tiny plague.

"I had better go get this under control," Fleur sighed. "Molly, will you watch the bread?"

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley told her. "But bring reinforcements."

"Don't worry, I'm the last one to underestimate my daughter's abilities," Fleur assured the woman, crossing the corridor into the living room, where the Weasley wives and Ginny stood, watching out the window and cheering every time a new Weasley male was tackled.

"Did I miss anything?" Fleur asked.

"Teddy got George, who decided to roll around the yard, tripping up everyone else," Hermione volunteered, chuckling.

"And then James bit Percy in the ankle," said Ginny, with no little pride. "He's screaming like Umbridge faced with centaurs."

"Now Bill and Charlie are trying to climb the oak trees over by the barn," Audrey announced, fiddling with her camera. "Ginny, do I want to know why you want these pictures?"

"Probably not," Ginny admitted.

"Honestly, they're absolutely hopeless," Angelina, rolling her eyes.

Charlie's wife, none other than Cho Chang herself, laughed, her three-month-old baby, Ronin, in her lap. "Someone had better go stop them before all of Britain is infected."

"I was just about to go out and do just that," Fleur told them. "But I'll need some recruits. Ginny, because you're the only person Victoire and Teddy will listen to, and Angelina, because you're the only person George will listen to."

"And, once again, my husband gets cast in with the seven-year-olds," said Angelina dryly, rising to her feet.

Ginny, laughing, followed the two other women out of the house, after handing eight-month-old Albus to Cho, who had passed Ronin to Audrey. After six years, there were no hard feelings between the two women, as Cho and Harry had made it quite clear that their brief relationship had been a humiliating calamity at best.

The three women stepped out into the yard, and Ginny immediately cleared her throat loudly. Teddy, Fleur, and Roxanne, who had been shaking the tree Ron was clinging to, froze and turned around guiltily.

"Teddy Remus Lupin, what are you doing?" Ginny demanded, hands on hips.

"Shaking a tree," Vic said, unabashed.

A terrified Ron twitched slightly at the sound of her voice.

"All of you, and mean all of you, stop it this instance!" Ginny ordered. "And I mean you, James Sirius Potter!"

James grinned guiltily, withdrawing his hand from Harry's leg. Harry shrieked in horror, and pawed at the growing purple patch on his leg, only to wail again when he found the purple spreading across his fingers.

"Oh, don't be a baby, Harry," said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

"George, you get up now," Angelina told him. The very purple George rose to his feet, unabashed, and threw an arm around the distraught Harry's neck.

"Try it, mate," he said. "It's grape-flavored."

Fleur rolled her eyes and turned to Victoire, who looked the very epitome of innocent. "I know you started this, somehow, young lady, or I'm the Queen of England."

"Well, put on your best crown and let's be off to Buckingham Palace, mum," said Vikky cheerfully, throwing an arm around Teddy in the mirror image of George.

"Not funny," Fleur scolded. "Are you honestly doing your best to spend your evening in your room, with, I might add, no petit gâteau to speak of?"

"Non, maman!" said Victoire hastily. "I'll behave, I promise. Je le jure solennellement, I solemnly swear it."

George and his favorite niece exchanged knowing looks.

Molly Weasley appeared at the doorway, balancing a tray of soup bowls, three bread baskets, and several champagne glasses and a bottle with her wand. "You had better have those tables ready for me," she threatened, and the Weasley males blanched and scrambled back to work hastily.

A moment later, the combined efforts of Hermione and Angelina were enough to reverse the effects of the Purple Plague, and the multitude of small cousins were seated around a table propped under the apple tree. Teddy and Victoire both picked all the mushrooms out of their portions of lasagna and fed them to the Delacour-Weasley' dog, Smorgasbord. The part-crup looked a bit like a border collie, but one brown eye and one blue eye, one ear that refused to flop the right way, and shaggy, patchy, and speckly blue-and-white fur coupled with a tongue that was unable to be contained by his mouth, created an adorable clumsy, loveable dog with no control over his own legs.

"It's not fair," Victoire announced loudly. Teddy jumped, sending the despised mushrooms bouncing off his fork into the eagerly awaiting mouth of Smorgasbord, who caught them. He was only coordinated when it came to food.

"What isn't fair, Vikky?" Roxanne asked, eyeing the spider on her water glass curiously.

"Albus and Rosie and baby Ronin get to sit at the big person table, and they're little babies," Vic clarified.

"We need revenge," Roxanne announced. It was often Victoire's solution to everything, and Vic was incredibly infectious.

"You could give Uncle Ron some water," Vic suggested slyly. James banged his fork on the table in agreement.

Giggling, Roxanne snatched up her water glass, spider still attached, and assembled her most doe-eyed expression before darting across the lawn to where the fourteen adults and three babies sat. Roxanne gave Ron her sweetest smile and offered her waterglass to her uncle, who sat between Hermione and Percy's wife, who hadn't taken a sip of champagne all night.

"It'th fow woo, Uncle Won," she told him, emphasizing the slight lisp caused by the gap where her two front teeth were missing. Angelina watched her daughter suspiciously, as it wasn't like Roxanne to use baby-talk unless she was up to something.

Ron, oblivious, however, smiled at his niece and took the glass from her hand.

"Thanks, Roxy," he told her.

"You're super welcome!" she said, the lisp vanishing as she darted back to the table. Angelina bit her lip in thought.

Ron tipped back the glass for a drink, but froze at the sight of the large, hairy spider dangling in front of his nose. For a moment, all was still, then Ron screamed, high-pitched and long-lasting, tumbling backwards over his chair and onto the lawn, the glass with the spider spinning out over the table and hitting the champagne bottle, which shattered, spraying the liquid out over the tablecloth. Ron grappled with something invisible for a moment, then crawled away, whimpering.

Over by the apple tree, the little cousins where having muffled hysterics. Rose, in a very disapproving Hermione's lap, flapped her arms and giggled at the sight of her father. Angelina rolled her eyes and took as sip of her champagne, while George applauded slowly and then stood, taking his plate with him.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked, ignoring her brother's antics.

"I'm off to the kid's table, ma'am," said George, with a mock bow. "It seems to be a very interesting place."

"Well, don't take any champagne with you," said Angelina dryly.

George ambled over to the apple tree, where his daughter and his brother-in-law's godson scooted aside to make room for him on the bench. Vic scraped her mushrooms onto his plate, much to Smorgasbord's dismay.

Ron seemed to have recovered by that point, and, taking a shaky seat next to his wife, gave everyone a weak smile. Hermione rolled her eyes and handed him Rose, then helped Molly and Bill clear up the spilled champagne.

Percy cleared his throat nervously, when everyone was back in their seats. His wife, who had a sweet, heart-shaped face and mousy-brown hair, nodded for him to continue.

"We, that is, Audrey and I, we have an announcement to make," said Percy loudly. Heads turned in his direction. George craned around in his seat uncomfortably, his knees crammed under the tiny table.

"We, um, Audrey is, well. That is . . ." Percy stopped, looking embarrassed.

"Percy and I would like to announce a new member of our family," said Audrey, smiling at her husband.

Molly Weasley burst into tears, as she always did at the birth or announcement of a grandchild, and squeezed both a bashful-looking Percy and a smiling Audrey into an enormous hug. When she finally pulled away, she was wiping her eyes, and the couple were soon bombarded with congratulations and hugs.

"Do you know if it'll be a boy or a girl yet?" asked Angelina, giving Audrey a hug.

"A girl," Audrey said, her eyes watery. "We're going to call her Molly."

After this announcement, and a fresh round of sobs from Mrs. Weasley, the table descended into whole-hearted chaos, so no-one noticed the fact that Roxanne, Teddy, and Victoire were missing from the children's table. Kaede and Louis were wrestling each other over the last roll, and the resulting foodfight was enough to distract anyone. Lucy rubbed mashed potato in James's hair, and James tripped Kaede and sent him flying into a bowl of custard, Louis bellowed happily as he threw lasagna at Fred, and Fred stood back and pelted everyone with carrots while Dominique covered her head with her hands and kicked at anyone who came close to her and looked like they might be holding a bowl of peas, which she abhorred.

In hindsight, they should have noticed Vic, Roxanne, and Teddy's conspicuous absence from the foodfight, but as a confused looking Charlie was set to watch Rose, Albus, and Ronin on a picnic blanket while their mothers pulled their various children off of their cousins, no-one noticed their absence until much later, when Fleur demanded to know where Victoire was.

They found the threesome on the roof, along with a platter of petit fours and Cho's camera. (She was a photographer for the Daily Prophet.) All three were cackling madly over the foodfight pictures, but threw a small fit when the blackmail material was confiscated and Ron accused them of being too much like Ginny.

The evening soon drew to a close, with Teddy kicking and dragging his feet as his grandmother, Andromeda, hauled him off back to her home. Roxanne would have behaved much the same way, despite being the one labeled 'mature' out of the three, but her mother had given the go-ahead' for her children to have a sleepover with the Delacour-Weasleys, so Roxanne and Victoire waved goodbye to a morose Teddy as he and his grandmother stepped into the Floo.

The rest of the families were soon gone, and, with Bill kissing his wife goodnight and finishing up the dishes.


Next Chapter:

'VictoiRe brandished the mail in her mother's face. ConfusEd, Fleur sorted through the stack. "George's catalogue, the Daily Prophet, a Very large bill for the Floo, another one of George's catalogues, as If we didn't already know his entire stock by heart, a lEtter from Angelina, asking us to babysit George for the Weekend, and . . . . mon Dieu! Your Hogwarts letter!"'

Listen to the story, folks!

-CritterCat