Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, I would get paid for writing these things once in a while. Harry Potter's entire world belongs to JK Rowling.
You grab hold of the ledge, body tensing, muscles screaming from the effort as you hoist yourself upward. Farther and farther you climb, the rain pounding at your back, wind clawing at your face, until the houses down below look like muggle children's playthings. You continue to climb, fully aware that you're shutting everyone out, isolating yourself from the rest of the world-from them. But you like it that way, and know deep down that they'd prefer it too. Deny it all he can, you still see right through Harry, knowing that you've been rejected from the beginning, by everyone..
As your lean body clambers to its feet, you know instantly that you're not alone. Your amber eyes trace the scenery for any clue to who has been following you, scanning every tree. And there she is: just where you expected she'd be, as if she'd read your mind.
"Victoire, you shouldn't be here." Your voice comes out flat, like old champagne, but the girl does not move, maintaining her steady gaze upon you. "You shouldn't be here," you repeat harshly, knowing that she will refuse your words anyway. You pointedly avoid her gaze, looking everywhere but into the grey eyes that remain fixed upon you. The silence taunts you, restraining you from what you want to say. It is like a vice upon your chest, crushing you..
Her voice breaks it first.
"You don't 'ave to deal with zis alone, you know." Victoire speaks in a soft French accent that mimics her mother's, only not as strong. She's kept her gaze on you the whole time, but you are still afraid to meet it.
"Actually, I do. You don't understand what I'm capable of. Hell, I don't even understand what I'm capable of!" Your voice cracks, coming out whinier than you'd expected. She couldn't help you, no one could. Not even Harry, and he'd raised you for most of your life. The one man that could help you was dead.
"He died trying to give you a better world. Your mum too," Harry'd told you on the morning of your eleventh birthday. The pair of you were drinking tea, awaiting the post and your acceptance letter from Hogwarts. "You should be proud."
And you were proud. You couldn't believe what your father had thought- how could you be ashamed of a man so brave?
Yet, everything about your father's doubts had become reality. You too were afflicted, left alone to deal, but your pride never wavered for a second. Victoire's voice breaks into your thoughts and disturbs the silence in the air. The wind has died down and it is no longer raining. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, welcoming the return to reality.
"I can 'elp you. Please." Her voice is firm, but gentle as she grabs your arm, forcing you to face her. You open your mouth then close it again, unable to speak, but somehow she understands. "Teddy, my father 'as been cursed too… 'E will know how to deal with zis. I know more than you think." You look up, amber meeting grey, and see something in her eyes that you've never seen there before: pain. Your stomach turns with guilt as you realize how hard it must be for her. It's one hell of a burden to bear on your own, but it must be harder to sit there and watch your father, knowing that there is no real cure, no true way to help. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears that she doesn't bother to hide. Without thinking, you reach up and brush them away with your thumb.
This seems to give Victoire the courage to go on, because she swallows and gives you a small smile.
"I leave soon for my last year at 'Ogwarts. Say you'll be there?" It is more a request than a question, but you nod anyway. Victoire beams, all trace of sadness forgotten. She takes your hand again, and you realize that she's also taken your heart. And you have taken hers.
The moon disappears behind the clouds and you begin to relax. Victoire senses it too, as she laces her fingers through yours. Together you make your way down the gorge.