Welcome. This series is about each of the Weasley's/Potter's names that they have chosen for their children. Some are obvious; some are not. I hope you enjoy each one. I'll try to upload one chapter every week so that is done by Christmas of 2018, but no promises. Without furter adieu, Victoire

VICTOIRE

Fleur Weasley floated gracefully out of Shell Cottage, toward her garden, her long, pale spring-green, dress blowing in the breeze behind her. She smiled. Today was a perfect day. The sun shone brightly and felt warm against her skin; a rarity in the spring for England. The sea air was smelled delightful. She was nine months pregnant, due any day with her first child and despite Bill's constant fretting, she loved to keep moving. In fact she had been moving ever since 3:30 that morning. That was six hours ago. The baby was restless and continued to kick throughout the night. It also didn't help that as perfect day as it was weather-wise, today was a day of sorrow. It was May 2nd, and the second anniversary of Voldermort's defeat and death by Harry Potter. Even though England was finally at peace, she and her family had lost so many friends during the deadly conflict. She rubbed her stomach, "You are so fortunate, mi chere," she thought as she sat down on her garden bench, "I would do anything to have been spared loosing so many friends from this terrible war." She felt the baby kick in agreement.

Bang! Fleur spun around expecting to see her brother-in-law Charlie, home from Romania on a two-week vacation. He promised he'd be home in time to see his first nephew or niece be born. After all, she and Bill were planning on telling him that they wanted him to be the child's godfather. But it wasn't Charlie. He was tall, lanky, with wild red hair as all Weasley had, and what normally were sparkling eyes were dulled down. His eyes were red, his face was tired, and his expression in his face was that of a man who was tired of pain.

"George," she said, quite startled but not surprised considering the day, "It's so nice to see you. Come sit with me."

George looked at her with startled eyes as if he couldn't believe that he was seeing her correctly and then, like an Inferi, walked over and collapsed beside the Veela. "Fleur, I'm sorry for startling you. I just needed to get away."

Fleur smiled gently and clasped his right hand is a soft squeeze, "That's fine, George. Feel free to stay as long as you want."

George nodded as if in a trance and looked away, than back at her. "I broke up with Angelina Johnson." he finally said mutely and jumping right into what was bothering him, "She only wanted to be with me because I look like her first love. I don't want her pity," he spat hollowly.

"That's not true," Fleur protested gently, giving him yet again another tiny squeeze. Her right hand was at her side, gripping her waist where she suffered from a quick cramp. Nothing major.

"Oh really," he scoffed, "Fred's dead and she loves him still. Might as well date his twin. Who cares if it's not him, he still looks like him!"

"Angelina is not like that and you know it," Fleur replied patiently, and almost hissed as she breathed through another Braxton-Higgs cramp. She knew that was all it was as a Healer from St. Mungo's had informed her that her body would go through this to prep for the delivery. She wasn't due for another three weeks.

"Oh really," he turned, his angry eyes flaring, "I don't know why else she would want to hang around? Certainly never did when we were at Hogwarts other than Quidditch practice! No one understands," he exclaimed getting up and turning on her, "You never lost your best friend! I miss Fred. EVERY DAY. I can't stand it! I feel like a part of me wants to die because of my grief. I hate pity. I hate feeling miserable. Sometimes, I feel like I even hate me!" he raged. Fleur watched him with her heart sad for the young man. He was right of course; she had not lost Gabrielle in the Battle of Hogwarts and she never had a twin. She could imagine what pain he was going through. But she did know what it was like to blame oneself.

"Do you remember the night we smuggled Harry out of his wretched family's house?" Fleur asked patiently. "Bill and I rode Threstals to our safe house. Have you ever wondered how I can see Threstals?" she asked. George shook his head. She knew he hadn't even considered it. The first death he had ever witnessed had been his own twin's. During the seven Harrys adventure, he had been too busy fighting his own Dementors and Death Eaters to worry about the others, especially after having his ear cursed off to have seen Mad-Eye bravely perish.

"When I was seven," she began calmly and started counting the cramps, "I was in hiding with my family. Voldemort was almost at his peak of power. Mum and Dad sent me to my Aunt Celine's house. She was a Professor of Charms at Beauxbatons and they thought she was the safest bet for me. She lived in Calais, very close to the school. As close as Hogsmeade is to Hogwarts. They thought I'd be safe there. They were wrong," she rasped. "Two death eaters came in destroyed the house. They wanted to prove their superb upbringing of purity. My mum and aunt were half Veela; an abomination in their opinion. Before they arrived, Celine hid me in the root cellar. When the house collapsed, she tried to disapparate to join me but during her dissaparation she was killed by a piece of wood that followed her and stabbed her. She died right in front of me." Now the pain in her side was almost unbearable, but she knew she needed to continue.

"Like that house-elf; Dobby," George whispered quietly.

"Indeed. I took his death very hard even though I never even met him. When I was trying to save Gabrielle during the Tri-wizard tournament, I froze because I saw Gabrielle in danger. It was just like watching Celine die in front of me. That moment of fear, cost me to complete the task because I was attacked by Grindylows." Fleur sighed deeply during a long cramp and continued, "I entered the Twiwizard Tournament to bring honor to my family and to make amends. I hoped if I did win, it would make up for my failure years ago."

"You can't think you were at fault for your aunt dying," George said, taking her hand.

"And neither can you for Fred," Fleur declared. George looked shocked. "Fred is dead." She agreed bluntly and continued, "He died trying to protect you all. You dishonor him if you are going to grieve forever. Fred would want you to move on. If it were you who were dead and Fred beside me, he would be going through the same turmoil and reach the same conclusion. You can't be blind to the living," she pressed on, ignoring the cramp in her side that she know realized was more than a false contraction, "If you are, Angelina deserves better."

"She does…" he trailed he said angrily, "She never loved me…if she was interested, she would have gone to Yule Ball with me."

"She wanted to go with you!" she yelled, covering her pain with rage, "You never asked her. Fred did to irritate you. She chose Fred to make you jealous," seeing his disbelieving face she continued, "I saw her bored during the last dance. You had already left. She was furious that you hadn't even said hello. She told me while blowing off stream."

"Oh," George whispered. He sat down. Now he felt bad. Here all this time, Angelina did love him. He wasn't the re-bound guy at all. He wasn't his brother's ghost. He was his own person. He looked over to Fleur and saw pain written on her face. Not just the pain from telling her story, but…he placed his over hers and gave her a tight squeeze. She squeezed back with such fervor, he was surprised that his fingers didn't break. He looked down at the bench and saw that it was wet and the pool of liquid was getting bigger and bigger. "Fleur…" he asked tentively.

"Bloody hell," she hissed, "Help me up, George, "she begged as she panted, "Bill…get Bill!"

George sprang up and grabbed her up in his arms and sprinted up to the house. Apparation during pregnancy was defiantly unsafe as was traveling by Portkey. They would have to use Floo Powder, which was safe, but many witches preferred using other modes of transportation such as Threstals or flying brooms.

Bill was at work, he knew that. But he needed to get word. Using an owl would be too slow, especially with the fact that Fleur looked absolutely ready to begin labor. "I'll have to send a Patronus," he thought. He hadn't even tried to summon one since after Fred's death. He set her down as soon as he got to the fireplace. He closed his eyes are conjured up a happy memory and focused. "Expecto Patronum," he bellowed. A silvery wisp burst forth. "Bill, meet us at St. Mungos…NOW! It's Fleur! " he exclaimed and the form took shape and flew out the window.

"A phoenix," Fleur breathed, "very fitting,"

George hadn't even noticed. He was too concerned about getting Fleur to the hospital. He grabbed the cauldron that held the floo powder and she took a handful as did he and stepped into the fireplace. "St. Mungos" they both cried and disappeared engulfed in the green flames.

Bill was at Gringotts filling out some paperwork for his latest customer after he dropped off a deposit. It was a busy day. He was no longer a curse-breaker, rather he was now a financial consultant for Muggle-born witches and wizards. Shortly after the defeat of Voldermort, Harry created a fund that would help incoming Hogwarts students who were not able to afford their supplies get everything they would possibly need for Hogwarts. No one knew that Harry was the anonymous donor but it was only available to students were Muggle-born or well-known in the Wizarding community for having financial difficulty. That day, Harry had deposited 5000 Galleons into the account. Bill smiled. The incoming class of Hogwarts students would defiantly be prepared.

Just then he saw a silvery glow. He looked up. A silver, shimmering bird flapped in front of him. "Bill," it said, "Meet us at St. Mungos…NOW! It's Fleur!" and the bird disappeared. Bill grabbed his coat, locked the papers in his drawer and disapparated in a matter of seconds. He looked up and was in front of the magical hospital. He rushed in and almost ran into his brother.

"George!"

"Bill!"

"That was you who sent the Patronus?"

"Yeah," he panted, "Go, Fleur is already in. She's in Labor and Delivery. Go!"

Bill ran quicker than George blinked. Being attacked by a were-wolf did have its advantages. George pulled out his wand and summoned his patronus again. Sure enough, a Pheonix burst forth. "Send word to the Hallow," he breathed, "Fleur is in labor and Bill is with her. Meet us at St. Mungos." And with that, the phoenix soared out the window.

He sat down and stared at his wand. For the first time in three years George felt at peace. It was strange; that it would happen at a hospital which was anything but. He took a deep breath and thought about what Fleur had said. He couldn't be blind to the living. He would forever miss Fred and cherish the twenty years they had together but he had many more years. Fred was dead. But Angelina, the girl he loved, was alive. She was kind and she always supported him and was the girl he loved. And he needed to tell her. George looked around and found a bit of parchment and a quill. He dipped the quill into the inkjar. He wrote at the top, "Dearest Angelina," he began.

A few hours later, George was met by his entire family in the waiting room. Dad, Mum, Charlie, Percy, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione were all there. Almost everyone had skived off work. Everyone was smiling and waiting for the news. Molly had brought a small trunk that George was sure had every single clothing item that he and his siblings had shared. They were not disappointed. Bill was walking toward them.

He looked around for a moment, "It's a girl,"

George whooped with joy and sent pink firecrackers in the air with his wand. His were joined by Percy and Ron as well. Mum was crying with happiness and Dad looked stunned. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were grinning like they just won 1000 Galleons. Charlie walked over and shook his hand. Bill just looked relieved.

"George," Bill gasped as everyone finished hugging him, "Fleur wants to see you."

George looked puzzled, but walked with Bill back to her room. Fleur looked ethereal; her silvery-blond hair lay around her shoulders like an angel. She was wearing white gown and was holding a pink bundle. She was staring at the bundle and looked up at George, "Want to meet your niece?"

He nodded and walked over to her and gazed upon her. She had very light red hair, chubby cheeks and deep blue eyes. She blinked at him and gurgled. "She looks a lot like you," he commented to Fleur, "but she has your hair," he informed Bill. "A true Weasley"

"George," Fleur began, "Bill and I were hoping that you would be her godfather,"

George's eyes widened, "Me? Why not Charlie? He was your best man."

Fleur smiled gently, "We did consider Charlie, but in truth, you have certain qualities we want her to have. You make us all laugh. You are smart, kind, and determined. You have also fought, struggled, and survived. You uphold truth, integrity, and honor. Most of all, you're a survivor." Fleur paused, "Do you accept?"

George looked down at the squirming bundle that was his niece, "On one condition," he finally said

"What," Bill asked warily.

"I want to know her name," George rasped outstretching his arms and Fleur placing his goddaughter in them.

"Her name," Fleur said quietly, "is Victoire Celine Winifred Weasley"

George's eyes watered at hearing his beautiful goddaughter sharing part of the name of his twin. "You have a quite a name sweetie," he finally choked. "I hope that you are worthy to live up to it." The baby smiled back at him as if assuring him she was up to the challenge. He leaned over and gave her a gently kiss on her head.

"Shall we introduce her to her family? I expect Mum is ready to blast the door down," Bill joked.

George looked down at his goddaughter. "Let's do it."