"Hi," I said, tucking a strand of my long pale-blonde hair behind my ear."I'm Victoire."

You grinned and extended a hand, your own hair already a bright shade of silver.

"Ted," you said, and I shook your hand; taking in everything about you with just one glance. Your olive green eyes framed by dark lashes; your careless, almost rugged stance, too laid-back to have a care in the world; your silvery-blond hair dripping with sweat as it fell over your eyes. In one hand you clutched a guitar, one that was covered with magically graffitied signatures of the boys in your band. In the other you held my hand, and I couldn't help but notice how your thumb twitched slightly to cover my own.

It was a gesture that lasted a second, that handshake, but in my head I knew it would last forever. I knew I'd replay this moment to myself over and over again as I sat with my family on the way back from your concert.

My father would tease me mercilessly about the uncontrollable smile on my face; my sister would nudge me and bite her lip knowingly, trying to refrain from commenting on "you and me"; and Louis would sit there, in the back of the car, laughing at every teasing remark my father would fire my way about "that boy with the guitar."

It would be embarrassing, sure, but it's never going to happen.

You see, Teddy, I swore I'd never fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band.

And unfortunately for us, that includes you.

"Hey Ted," I replied, trying your name out on my lips. It tasted sweet; but I wasn't sure it was quite my thing. "You did great up there."

You winked at me, hitching the guitar further up your hand before slinging it onto your back.

"Really?" you said, even though we both knew you needed no reassurance. The boys in The Chosen One are well-known for being confident ... sometimes to the point of being cocky.

"No," I said, and I startled you so much your hair turned blue. But, you see, I had remembered what my best friend Molly had taught me about dealing with famous kids - never be the "loyal fan". Apparently guys hated that. I knew you would - you had plenty of girls screaming your name in the audience; you didn't need another. "In fact, you messed up the solo on Orphan."

You glared at me, your eyebrows turning a deep grey; and my toes curled with the dread that I'd gone one step too far. But before I could backtrack, you grinned. A wide, honest grin that lit up your entire face.

"I know, right?"

And that was it. Those three words set us off completely.

We talked about everything. We'd only just met; but already I was telling you my story and you were telling me yours.

You'd grown up with your grandmother, your parents having died in the Second Wizarding War. You had a godfather, Harry Potter - only the most famous wizard alive today! - and you couldn't play Quidditch to save your life. You could, however, play the guitar and that was something you'd realised from the day you had the chance to find out.

I confessed that I was great at Quidditch, and you'd laughed and shrugged it off. It didn't matter, you said. We're all different.

That we are, I mused to myself as you suggested teaching me guitar if I taught you to fly one day.

I lived with my parents and siblings, had everything I'd ever wanted and was beautiful without trying. You'd worked for what you got - those nameless fans in the audience hadn't been easy to win over. You and your band had had to rehearse late into the night sometimes to even come up with a potentially successful single.

I was unwilling to change; my morals were pressed firmly into my mind whereas you were constantly changing everything. Your appearance - within a few minutes of conversation I could swear the tips of your hair were going pink; and even your music was ballads mixed with crazy instrumentals.

We could have talked all evening had it not been for my sister appearing at my elbow and quietly telling me it was time to go. She had been talking to the lead vocalist, a boy named Mark, and the drummist who was called Harvey, with our brother Louis.

I glanced over Dominique's shoulder to see Harvey and the other band mate, a tall, friendly-looking guy who you said was called Jack, taking turns at giving Louis piggybacks. Mark, on the other hand, his dark hair hanging over his face and his blue eyes half-hidden under thick glasses, was staring after my sister with a look I could only described as smitten.

I turned back to you as Dominique went to collect Louis, and I could tell that you'd seen Mark's expression too.

You winked at me, your hair back to silver; and we'd both burst out laughing.

"Victoire!" my sister called, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Well, see you," I said, waving slightly before turning away. But you grabbed my arm before I could take more than a few steps and gently swung me back around to face you.

"Can I have your number?" you asked, as cool and collected as anybody.

I stared at you for a long moment before taking the pen that I could see was sticking out of your shirt pocket and writing my number on your palm. Just as I had finished writing the last digit you had closed your hand, trapping my own inside it, and pulled me close.

I looked up at you, my heart beating fast inside my chest.

Your olive eyes (or were they olive? At that moment I was sure they were turning to the same pale grey as my own) stared deeply into mine and you bent your head.

I knew what was coming. I knew it as much as I knew that the Montrose Magpies were going to win the Quidditch League this year.

Your face came closer. My mind went blank.

"I have to go," I whispered, your lips millimetres away, some sense returning to my clouded brain. "Sorry."

I pulled away from you and you surveyed me as though I was mad.

Maybe I was, I had thought as you'd tossed me a sweatshirt and grinned in farewell.

But I swore I'd never fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band.

"Oh my goodness!" Dominique screamed as soon as we were back in the safety of our bedroom back at Shell Cottage. My mother was downstairs, boiling the kettle for a late night cup of tea with my father. I could hear the water boiling from up here.

"Shush!" I threw my hand out to cover her mouth. "Louis is trying to sleep in the next room! You'll wake him up."

Dominique scowled at me and removed herself from my grasp before jumping onto her bed and grinning manically at me.

"I don't see what the big deal is," I continued, sitting down on my own bed and switching on my night-light. "It's only a sweatshirt."

"Only a sweatshirt?" my sister repeated, so loudly I had to anxiously shush her again. "You do realise this belongs to Teddy Lupin?"

"As if," I scoffed, flopping down onto my pillow. "It's just some free merchandise. He wouldn't give me his own clothing."

Dominique raised her eyebrows at me and walked to my bed; before climbing up beside me and reaching for the sweatshirt you had tossed at me earlier in the evening.

"No!" I hissed, rolling over so my body was covering it. "Get off - ow! - Nikki, give it back!"

"Aha," my sister exclaimed satisfyingly, the sweatshirt firmly in her clutches as she examined the label inside the hood. "See - Property of Ted R. Lupin. I told you so."

I grabbed the sweatshirt off her and looked at the label myself. It was true - it was yours. I held it up to my nose and sniffed. It even smelt of you - a mixture of sweat and Lynx. It was a beautiful smell, something Dominique made sure to inform me of when she smelled it herself.

"It doesn't mean anything," I said, tossing my slivery blonde hair over my shoulder and drawing my knees up to my chest.

"Oh for the love of Merlin," Dominique muttered, throwing your sweatshirt in my face. "A boy doesn't just give a girl an item of his clothing; especially a famous boy. Do you even know how much that would be worth on WeBay?"

"I don't care how much it's worth," I told her, holding your sweatshirt in my arms. "He gave it to me; it's mine."

My sister stifled a giggle for the sake of our sleeping brother in the next room, but soon she couldn't keep it in.

"Merlin, Vicki," she gasped, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. "You love him!"

"Don't be so ridiculous!" I shrieked, and this time it was my sister's turn to shush me. "Of course I don't love him."

And it was true, I thought. I didn't love you; and I never would. It was just never going to happen.

I would never fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band.

"Victoire, you have a visitor!"

I groaned and switched off the television Dominique and I were watching - some reality show drivel - and rolled off the couch. Dominique leaned over me for the remote in my hand and turned the TV back on. I wrinkled my nose at her and she stuck her tongue out back at me.

"Go on," she said, her attention almost fully on the programme. "Dad wants you. I bet it's Teddy at the door."

I hit her lightly on the arm and walked out into the hallway, closing the door to the living room behind me. I could tell my sister had lowered the volume on the television - probably hoping to eavesdrop, no doubt.

"Yes, Bill?" I said, ambling towards my father who ruffled my blonde hair playfully. I tried to look behind him to see who the visitor was at the door but my father was blocking my view.

"Don't call me Bill," my father said tiredly, but his brown eyes were warm as he swung an arm around my shoulders, leaving me with a perfect view of who was at the door.

"Do I know you?" I asked, eyeing the visitor up and down.

The boy occupying our front step was short - probably just a foot taller than Louis and a few inches smaller than me - with chestnut brown hair and a heart-shaped face. I was sure I'd seen him somewhere before.

"Yeah, I'm Harvey," the boy said, his hands deep in his pockets. "You know, from The Chosen One? You met us two weeks ago with those VIP tickets your father had won ..."

I nodded silently, subconsciously checking the beach behind him.

"Ted's not here," Harvey said to me, catching where I was looking. My father coughed loudly at the sound of your name and walked cheerfully into the living room; no doubt filling Dominique in on the "visitor".

"Oh," I said. "Not to be rude or anything, but what do you want?"

Harvey scuffed the toe of his left sneaker on the doorstep and looked at me full in the face.

"Or at least, Ted's not here yet."

I stared at him, not knowing what he was getting at.

"And you're here because ...?" I prompted, leaning against the doorframe and raising an eyebrow; a trick that I had learnt off my best friend Molly.

"We're having a party on the beach," Harvey explained, gesturing behind him. "In about an hour. Ted wanted to invite you; Jack suggested inviting Louis and I'm sure Mark would like to see Dominique again ..."

He winked at me and I smiled back. I was starting to like Harvey the drummer boy more than I'd imagined I would. Not in a romantic way - gosh, no. But he seemed like a pretty cool guy and a lot more light-hearted than some of the boys I knew from Hogwarts.

"That sounds all right," I said, shrugging. "I'll ask my mother."

Harvey nodded once and turned to go; before he paused and looked back at me.

"By the way," he started, and I could tell he was going to mention you, "Teddy Lupin fancies you."

"I don't care!" I yelled after him as he jogged away. "I'm not going to fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band."

But my words had gotten lost in the wind; until I wondered whether I had even spoken them to start with.

"Mum, can I go to the beach later with Dominique and Louis?"

My mother, her silver hair up in a bun at the back of her head, hummed absent-mindedly as she stirred a pot that was cooking on the stove. I faintly recognised the tune - it sounded like a record my grandmother sometimes used to play by a sorceress called Celestina Warbeck when we visited The Burrow for Christmas.

"When eez "later"?" she asked, her eyes still on the cooking pot. A cloud of steam suddenly formed above the pot and my mother muttered angry French to herself as she waved her wand and the steam disappeared.

"In about an hour. It's for a party," I said, shutting my eyes and crossing my fingers behind my back; praying to Dumbledore that she'd let me go.

"No. Zat eez too late for a girl your age to be out on zee beach at night. Eet is already ten o' clo -"

"It's half nine," I corrected, scowling at my mother and folding my arms over my chest. "And what do you mean, a girl my age? I'm eighteen!"

My mother turned to face me, planting the hand that was holding the wooden spoon on her hip. A few drops of stew fell onto the tiled floor but she ignored them.

"And what about Dominique or Louis?" she asked rhetorically, but I answered her anyway.

"Nikki's seventeen, she's a legal adult. And as for Louis ..." I stalled. Louis was only thirteen; he was barely an adolescent. "We'll look after him," I said firmly.

My mother sighed heavily and threw an arm into the air.

"Good 'Eavens!" she cried dramatically. "I know what parties mean zeese days for you children! Alcohol, no doubt! Louis eez a child, 'ee is going nowhere."

"There's not going to be any alcohol," I said wearily, but of course I wasn't sure. "It's with that band we went to see the other week, you know, The Chosen One? The drummer asked us to go."

My mother drew herself up to full height and resumed stirring the pot on the stove.

"Of course," she said quietly, so much so I almost didn't hear her. "All right, you can go!"

It was only later, when I was yelling goodbye to my parents as my siblings and I stood at the doorway ready to leave, that I realised that it wasn't because Harvey had asked us to go that my mother had agreed to us attending. I wondered whether my father had been gossiping about you to her.

But I didn't care - no matter how many beach parties I was invited to, I was never going to fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band.

"Do you think Mark will be there?" Dominique asked me as we walked down the beach to where the party was being held.

Louis was strolling along in front of us, his blond hair spiked up and he was wearing his favourite pair of grey skinny jeans. Dominique, who was walking beside me, was wearing a turquoise top under a denim jacket with jeans, her layered silvery-blonde hair straightened around her shoulders.

I glanced at Louis before fidgeting with my bracelet and pulling a face at my sister.

"Why?" I teased. "Do you fancy him?"

"If you say so," she said casually, and I punched her lightly on the arm. "What? He's a nice person to talk to."

"I know a nice person to talk to," Louis, whom I thought had his headphones in, turned around and grinned widely at us. "Ted Lupin."

I rolled my eyes as my sister giggled and high-fived him.

"You've never spoken to the boy," I said loftily, adjusting my ponytail and stalking ahead of my siblings.

"No, but you have!" Louis called after me. "And from the looks he gave you ..."

I stopped in my tracks and spun around to face my brother. We were only a small distance away from the party - I had seen the bonfire as I'd been walking away and already a few shadowy figures were watching and no doubt laughing at our commotion.

"Let me get this straight," I hissed, jabbing my finger in the air to get my point across. Dominique's face had fallen and her eyes were wide; Louis was clearly biting back a smirk. "I don't care about the looks Ted gave me. We hardly know each other. I will never fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band!"

Someone coughed from behind me. I stiffened, my blood turning cold.

"Hello, Victoire," they said. You said.

I felt my face heating up as I looked over my shoulder at you; my siblings racing past me towards the bonfire. I wished I could do the same - this was embarrassing enough as it was.

I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. I was lucky it was dark - I had a strong feeling my face was matching my short red dress that I was wearing over a pair of Molly's black jeans that she had given to me.

"How are you?" you said pleasantly, beckoning me towards the bonfire. We walked slowly towards reality; and I was wringing my hands with anxiety that you had heard what I'd said about never loving a boy in a rock and roll band.

"I'm fine," I muttered, looking anywhere but at you. "You?"

"Oh, I'm good," you said lightly, your thumbs in the front pockets of your jeans and your hair a vivid orange. "So, you're never loving a boy in a rock and roll band, huh?"

I didn't answer. How could I?

At last I found my voice.

"Why do you care?" I asked. "We've only known each other for two weeks."

But we both knew it felt like longer. When I had given you my phone number two weeks ago you had called me that night - a short while after Dominique had fallen asleep my phone had buzzed with an incoming call. I had laughed to myself and declined the call; it being too late for me to talk to you. After that, you had rung me every other day and we'd spoken for hours about whatever came to mind. I liked talking to you - you were interesting, funny and always had the right things to say.

"You know, you still haven't taught me to fly," you said, changing the conversation as we reached the bonfire.

"You haven't taught me to play guitar," I shot back, sitting down between my sister and Louis and surveying the other teenagers with interest.

"Touché," you laughed, taking a seat next to a pretty dark-haired girl with green eyes and a ridiculously short skirt. There were two other girls there - one about my age, with brunette curls and an open, friendly face; and the other my cousin Lily, a petite redhead, who was roughly the same age as Louis and could kick ass without a question.

Your band mates were there as well - Harvey and Jack, who were seated between Louis and you; and Mark, who was sitting opposite my sister and was trying not to make his darting glances at her too obvious. James was there too, Lily's oldest brother, his red hair flicking up at the ends and a Gryffindor tie around his head. He winked at me as I glanced his way and I waved.

"This is Mariah," you said to me and my siblings, pointing to the dark-haired, green-eyed girl you were sitting next to, "and the girl beside Mark is called Holly."

Holly, the girl with the brunette curls, beamed at us and I remember thinking I wanted to be her friend. She seemed like a lovely person; someone you could really trust.

"And of course," you continued, "you know my god siblings, Lils and Jamie. Everybody, this is Louis, she's Dominique and the beautiful ponytailed girl is Vic."

"Sup?" Louis made a rapping gesture with his hand and smacked knuckles with Harvey.

Dominique murmured her hellos to everybody; accepting the can of orange juice Lily tossed at her.

Me? I sat there, brimming with awkwardness, replaying your last sentence over and over in my head until it was driving me crazy.

The beautiful ponytailed girl is Vic. Beautiful. Vic. La la la, I'm going to casually mess with your head, beautiful Vic, because I know you're never going to date a boy in a rock and roll band.

"Are you all right?"

I looked up from my trance to see Holly leaning towards me; a concerned frown etched upon her face.

I nodded; my mouth twitching in what I hoped was a passable smile. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mariah, the dark-haired girl with the short skirt, whispering in your ear and shooting mean glances my way.

"I'm fine," I said in a low voice under the high currents of the chattering from the others. Dominique was laughing privately with Mark; Louis, Harvey, Lily and Jack were all shrieking at something James had said. It was all fun, all light-hearted, but I needed to get away from it. "I'm going for a walk."

I sighed, pacing down the beach with no destination in mind. I didn't even fancy you and yet you'd had an effect over me from the moment we both sat down at the bonfire.

Mariah's face burnt into my mind, her cold green eyes sharply throwing up a barrier between me and you.

But there was no me and you - I was sure of that; maybe she wasn't.

I glanced back at the party. I was so far away I could see nothing but an orange flicker of fire; so I walked a little more before sitting down on the sand, in front of a rocky cove, drawing my knees up to my chest and dropping my head down onto them.

I don't know how long I stayed there outside the cove, my knees pushing little stars into my eyes as I shut the world out. I do know it was long enough for the burning picture to fade, for the fire to burn out and for my sister and brother to contemplate heading back home.

I know this because just as I was starting to drift off to sleep you had shaken me awake and sat down beside me.

"Dumbledore, Ted," I swore, breathing heavily from the shock. "You almost gave me a heart failure."

You grinned at me, your olive eyes sparkling; your hair back to a silvery blond.

"Sorry," you said, but I could tell you were not slightly sorry at all.

"Of course," I said sarcastically, leaning into you and almost knocking you over. "Has everybody gone?"

"James and Lily have left," you replied, "and the girls have gone back home. My band mates are still hanging around with Louis and Dominique, though, but I think Louis is starting to fall asleep. So were you, by the looks of things."

I glared at you and you snickered to yourself.

We stayed like that for a long while - in silence with our shoulders pressed together; both lost in our own little heads, staring out at the sea.

"Sometimes," you said in a faraway voice, surprising me, "I come here when I'm upset. Nobody else knows I come here, not the boys in my band or anyone. This little cove makes me feel at peace with the world."

I looked at you. You were still staring out to sea, but there was something in your expression that suggested you knew more about us and the world than I could possibly imagine.

"Look at that," you then said softly, pointing at the sky. All the stars were coming out above us, mapping out a world that was both known to us and completely foreign. "It's a full moon."

"Doesn't that mean you'll turn into a werewolf?" I said, widening my eyes with mock naivety. Along with your story, you had also told me that of your parents' - your late father, a man you had never known, had been a werewolf. I knew the genes hadn't been passed onto you; you'd told me that a week ago in a phone call.

"Oh yes," you said, with such seriousness I almost rewrote your entire history in my head. "But then if what you told me was true, about your father being injured by a werewolf himself ... then so are you, missy."

I laughed softly.

"I am," I said, turning to face you and baring my teeth. "I'm a bloodsucking creature with eyes like the night."

"That's a vampire," you corrected, grinning widely. "But you do have eyes that shine like the night, Victoire. Your eyes are magical."

I gazed at you, my head sideways on my knees as you watched me watch you.

"Your music's pretty magical," I replied, straightening up and shaking the moment away from me. "And you said you'd teach me to play guitar."

I stood up, the hope and the magic staying below me next to you; and started to walk back home.

"Someday you'll fall in love with me!" you raised your voice so it could be heard over the waves that were drawing in with the tide. I shook my head as I put more and more distance between us.

I was never, ever going to fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band.

I didn't hear from you for three days.

Dominique philosophised that I'd driven you away; after all, it was such a change to go from talking every five minutes on the phone to absolute silence; Louis, on the other hand, his face an apathetic stone, promised you'd be back. He just knew, apparently. When I asked him why, he told me that boys like you don't just mess with pretty girls' heads.

I mean, sure, he went on to say, you've got groupies and he was damn sure that that Mariah girl was one. But there was something different between me and you.

I hastened to remind him - and my father, who was sitting in the background pretending to read The Quibbler - that there was nothing between me and you.

Because there wasn't.

Of course nobody believed me. By this point my brother had already spread around the idea of "me and you", so much so that James even phoned me up a day later to ask what was going on.

Nothing, I reassured him. Nothing was going on between me and you.

"If zat eez so," my mother, who by now had been completely filled in - by my father, no doubt - on everything to do with you, was one of the few people who were taking this seriously; or so I thought, "zen why did 'ee leave a note for you zis morning?"

"He what?" Dominique shrieked, running to the mailbox by the front door that we kept all unopened mail in. She rummaged around inside it, my parents and I loitering in the background, before she finally came up with what she had been searching for - a slightly crinkled piece of parchment with green ink on one side.

"'Victoire,'" she read the green scrawls in a deep voice, throwing her blonde hair over her shoulder and looking at me from under her lashes, "'How about we keep that promise we made three weeks ago?' Ooh, er," my sister grimaced, fidgeting with her headband nervously. "Vicki, he wants to see you. There's his address."

She tossed the parchment at me and I caught it, my face heating up of its own accord.

"What promise?" my mother asked immediately, surveying me sternly. "I 'ope zis eez not what I zeenk eet eez."

"Relax, Mum," my sister came to my rescue. I had told her most about you, and she knew of our promise of flying and guitar lessons. "He's not going to sleep with her."

"Thanks, Nikki," I muttered, as my mother choked on her words and turned her wrath to me. "No, Mum, he's just teaching me to play guitar. Honest."

My mother eyed me beadily before my father placed a hand around her hips and drew her close.

"Let her go, Fleur," he said gently. "We can trust her."

"Besides," Louis, who was getting ready to go to a friend's house, appeared at the top of the stairs. It was clear he had been listening in this whole time, "Vicks will never fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band."

I threw my sister's headband at him.

"Okay, lean forwards slightly ..."

You did as I said, leaning forwards on your god brother's broom as we both levitated a few inches above the ground.

I was on my own broomstick, an old Nimbus 2015, but already I was having doubts about letting you fly on your own. James's broomstick was reliable, sure, but you couldn't fly to save your life. That much was obvious, even though we were only hovering.

We were both in your godfather's garden - a large, spacious pitch with a handful of oak trees at one end and a pond at the other; water lilies floating on the surface of the crystal blue water. We were in the middle of the garden and your god siblings had friends over - before we went out into the garden I had exchanged words with Harvey and Jack who were about to begin a mock duel with James. I could swear, however, that I heard Mariah's clipped tones in the kitchen. Lily was not the kind of girl to be friends with people like Mariah: your god sister hung around with James and his friends or our cousin Hugo when she had the chance. In fact, I was pretty sure that the only reason Mariah was here was because you had invited her.

"How am I doing?" you asked, your hair a nervous shade of pale green.

"Great," I lied, shutting out my doubts of Mariah from my mind. "Right, let's try going a little higher."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" you asked throatily.

I nodded firmly and flew higher into the air. I glanced down at you - you looked like such a sight, leaning so far forwards on James's broomstick that it was almost comical.

"Now," I instructed, "point the broom upwards slightly."

You did so, until you were almost at my height. I flew down a few inches until we were side by side. We were level with Albus's bedroom on the second floor of your godfather's house; I could see him feeding his pet snake even from halfway down the garden.

"This is good!" I clapped my hands together, and you smiled at me. It was a half-smile, a twitch in your mouth, but a smile all the same. "When I say go, push forwards on your broom and you should fly forwards. Don't go too fast, mind."

You nodded hurriedly.

I was right about Mariah being there - down below on the grass I could see Lily, her mother Ginny and Mariah sitting down on the porch to watch us. I felt a surge of annoyance when Mariah waved; but you didn't notice - your olive eyes were fixed on your broomstick.

"Okay ... GO!"

Maybe it was silly of me to trust you to be able to fly properly after only half an hour of practise; but there was no way of stopping you as you zoomed forwards so far you almost crashed into Albus's bedroom window. I hastened to catch up.

"Bloody hell," you whispered, your face a startled picture of shock, the wind having played havoc with your hair. "Holy bloody mother of Voldemort. That was ..."

"Fun?" I suggested weakly, and you glared at me. From over your shoulder I could see Albus motioning for us to back away from his window; I did so, pulling on your sleeve to get us both out of the way.

Albus opened the catch on his window and poked his head out.

"I say," he adjusted his glasses pompously as we both stared at him, "do you mind? Vera's trying to snooze, you know."

He motioned to his snake, which was resting in a cage at the back of his bedroom.

I looked at you and we exchanged a quick glance before Albus slammed his window shut and retreated back into the darkness of his room.

Below us I could hear Lily laughing, something I wouldn't have minded if Mariah wasn't laughing too - as opposed to my cousin's, her laughter was cold and I was sure it was directed at me.

You turned to me, grinning widely, your hair bright yellow; seeming to have forgotten your fear of flying for the moment.

"Even famous kids have to respect the humble nature of snakes," you joked; puffing your chest out and imitating Albus's stern voice, "I say, Victwah, have some respect!"

You flew into me, throwing me back a couple of metres before I shook my head with determination and crashed back into you.

"Oh, whatever you do," I panted, after you nudged me with the tail-end of James's broomstick and I retaliated by hitting you lightly on the head with my palm, "don't look down. We're directly above the pond and it wouldn't be a good idea to fall -"

You looked down.

"Oh no," you said queasily, your hair turning a darker shade of green than it was originally.

"Don't worry," I said soothingly, putting my hand on your wrist and turning you to face me. "We're only about ten metres above the ground ..."

You looked at me with horror.

"I'm sure we'll be all right," I said hurriedly, starting to feel panicked as well as I looked into your eyes. "Hopefully."

"Hopefully," you echoed, and it was in that minute that you started to wobble. Ever so slowly at first; then, before either of us could do anything to prevent it, my hand still wrapped around your wrist, you had fallen, taking me with you.

You swore loudly in the split-second before we both crashed into the pond.

I spluttered, gasping with a mixture of shock and fear as I surfaced; above my head I could see Lily giggling and shaking her red hair to get the water out of it, Mariah hurriedly leading the way back inside. Soon we were alone.

But I had no time to dwell on that - you still had not surfaced and, treading in the cold water, I started to panic.

"Ted?" I breathed, swimming forwards a few inches, feeling around with my foot to see if you were underneath the water.

One moment passed, then another. I had learnt from my father, who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, to always count the seconds. That way you would know exactly how much time had passed between events.

When ten seconds had gone by, I took a deep breath and prepared to go under. Just as I had marked my surroundings long enough to focus on where I was going to dive back into the pond, a shock of violet hair appeared just below the surface and seconds later you surfaced.

"Jeez, Victoire," you swore again, in between whoops of laughter and excitement. "That was brilliant!"

I hoped you wouldn't ask to do it again. It was brilliant, yes, but it was the kind of thing Louis or James would class as brilliant. Falling into a pond off a broomstick was not something I would choose to do for fun.

However, as you laughed and smoothed your fringe back off your face I found myself wishing that maybe, just maybe, we could do it again.

Before I could scold myself for ever thinking such a thing, you had grabbed me around the waist and lifted me up so my knees were just touching the surface of the water.

"Put me down!" I squealed, frightened that you would drop me and I would surely drown.

"No way," you said in a muffled voice, your head buried in my sopping wet hair. You swung yourself around and carried me towards the edge of the pond, finally setting me down on the grass. You were still in the pond and you stared at me, watching me stand up and wring out my t-shirt, beads of water dripping down into your face from your fringe.

"You know," I said as I pulled a reed off my back, "women don't like men who stare. It's rude."

You grinned and laughed softly to yourself.

"According to you, you'll never fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band anyway," you leaned back and started to float, "so it doesn't make a difference what I do."

I glared at you, prepared to storm right back into the house and leave you in the pond; but before I could you had clambered out and stood beside me.

"That was fun," you said casually, and I'd have laughed if I wasn't too conscious of your hand resting lightly on my back. I moved out of reach and pointedly collected up our broomsticks, not turning back to look at you once.

"Hey, Victoire."

I reluctantly began to turn, hearing footsteps on the grass behind me and I stopped, frowning to myself.

"Yeah?" I called, spinning around and smacking you in the chest with the end of James's broom handle. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine," you winced, rubbing the spot where I'd hit you and squinting from the sun's bright rays. I laid a hand on your shoulder, unsure of what exactly I could do to ease your pain. You staggered a few feet before straightening up and shielding your eyes with a hand.

"You'll be the death of me, Vic," you moaned, but even Louis would have known your chest wasn't hurting any more.

I smiled, eyeing you expertly before something came to my mind.

"Why did you sneak up on me?" I asked, putting a hand on my hip and tossing my hair out of my face.

Dominique, if she were here, would have sworn you'd blushed. As it happened, you turned away so I had no proof on the matter.

"Well?"

"I was -" you looked back at me, your wide eyes searching mine. "I was going to see if you needed any help."

I snorted. As if that was true; I'm not that gullible. You weren't going to help me at all: how much help did a girl need to round up two broomsticks? No, I knew exactly what you were doing; you were trying to kiss me and you'd have done so if it wasn't for James's broomstick.

I made a mental note to thank him later; because no matter how many times you tried to kiss me I would never fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band.

"I'm in love!"

I stared at my sister as she spun around our bedroom, her blonde hair up in a ponytail, her expression faraway.

"I mean it, Victoire ..." she sighed dreamily and walked to the bookcase, picking up a book at random and setting it down on the dressing table.

"And who, may I ask, are you in love with?" I said dryly, rolling my eyes as she flounced down beside me on her bed.

"Mark," Dominique breathed, and I groaned loudly. She pushed me and giggled, her cheeks pink and her eyes shining. "You know, Teddy's friend."

"You have got to be kidding me," I muttered. I had always thought that my sister was the sensible, logical one out of our family. She was theoretical, smart and analytical. She was not, by any means, the girl silly enough to fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band.

"But what's so bad falling in love with such a boy?" she asked after I'd told her so.

"Honestly, Nikki," I said, sitting up straighter and watching her pout at me. "It's because ..."

My sister watched me, a hint of humour in her voice when she accused me of not even having a reason. I denied that, but I could see the smirk playing about her lips.

"It's because ..." I stalled for time, my mind racing frantically. Of course there was a reason not to fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band; there were many reasons. But somehow I couldn't think of a single one as I sat on my sister's bed and she waited for a response.

"Aha!" she exclaimed when I come up with nothing. "So after all his time and after all of these grand proclamations, you don't even have a reason for not going out with -"

I interrupted my sister before she could say your name.

"Principles are principles!" I shrieked, standing up, suddenly furious. "You cannot date that boy! He's reckless and crazy and full of himself and totally, completely, irrevocably not your type!"

Dominique stared at me.

"Really," she hissed icily, and I realised that my words had stung her more than I'd wanted them to. "Victoire, are you talking about Mark here? Because both you and I know that my Mark isn't reckless or full of himself."

She stormed out of the bedroom and I fell back onto her bed, trying to ignore her point.

Of course I wasn't talking about her Mark. Since when did he become her Mark? But that was a digression, and I hated myself for wanting to have a my Ted Lupin.

The point was, I wasn't talking about Mark at all, and we both knew it.

No, I was talking about you, and boy did I regret everything I had said to my sister.

I apologized to her later, but to her, my intention was already forgotten. She was too preoccupied with taunting me with what I had said instead; and both her and my father took great fun in coming up with counter-arguments to everything I had said.

"Teddy's reckless, is he?" my father said. "You need to live life on the reckless side sometimes, my dear. How do you think I'd have married your mother without being reckless? We were on the brink of war, for goodness sake. You have to be reckless for love."

"Crazy?" Dominique said, looking at me with the kind of superiority she got whenever she had solved a problem that nobody else could figure out. "Just because he's in a band doesn't mean he's crazy. He seemed perfectly normal to me."

He would do. My family never see things from my point of view, especially things to do with boys.

"And not your type?" Louis had interjected, eavesdropping once again, "Vicks, every boy is your type."

I had sneered at him, refusing to listen to their points. Their completely invalid points, mind. You were crazy and reckless and nothing that my family could say would change that.

Because I, unlike my younger sister, would never fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band.

"Vicks, you have another visitor!" my youngest sibling called up the stairs as I was getting ready to go out with Molly and the girls to town. Dominique was supposed to be coming with us - she was close to my age so we tended to share the same friends - but she had spent the past half hour talking on the phone with her new boyfriend Mark so I consequently had no idea how close to ready she was going to be.

I yelled to my brother to give me a minute as I squeezed myself into a pair of Dominique's jeans and fluffed up my hair. That should do, I decided.

Grabbing my handbag and guessing that it was Molly at the door, I jumped down the staircase and came face to face with Harvey.

"Do you have a habit of showing up on my doorstep?" I asked, flustered at the surprise. Louis, who was holding the door open proudly, had clearly been gossiping to the drummer while he was waiting: Harvey's eyes shone with all of the symptoms of having learnt something knew moments before; I knew this because it was a look my sister frequently wore with grace.

"No, I'm just passing by," Harvey said, winking at Louis who rocked on his heels with delight.

Feeling as though I was missing something, I asked what was going on.

"We're having a small gig later," Harvey explained, leaning against the doorframe and taking in my appearance. "Nothing big, only for some charity that sponsors werewolf appreciation and how they're normal members of society."

"They are 'normal members of society'," I interjected, folding my arms across my chest and watching him.

"I know," Harvey said simply. "The point is, Ted was hoping you'd come. It won't cost you anything," he added quickly as Louis reached for the purse that was poking out of my bag, "so you can forget about paying me. I think you coming would be payment enough for Teddy." He grinned, and I blushed.

"Well," I said, trying to be rational, "I'm going out with my friends. And if Ted wants something, he can come here and ask me himself."

I congratulated myself silently for having enough common sense to not jump into anything I would later regret.

Harvey, to my surprise, was also looking pleased.

"That's what I told him," he said with relief. "Hang on; I'll just get him - hey! Lupin!"

To my horror he turned around and waved his arms to a figure in the distance that was clearly you. Even from my house I could make out your unusual silver hair.

You broke into a run and within a few minutes you had reached the doorstep, staring at me appreciatively.

"You look ... incredible," you said, and the raw emotion in your voice affected my heart in a way that I had never felt happen before.

"Why thank you," I said coyly, turning away so you couldn't see me blush. "It's not for you. I'm going out with my friends."

"That's what she says," Louis added slyly, and I looked at him questioningly. "Oh, please, Vicks. We all know you can't mess with fate."

Harvey had started to look inquiringly at him too, so Louis hastened to explain himself.

"The way I see it," he said importantly, sounding so much like Albus I almost checked myself until I realised he was putting on an act, "is that you thought you were going out with friends, however you clearly had an ulterior motive and deep down inside you were planning to go out with Teddy but you just didn't know it. You can't mess with the subconscious mind, Vicks."

I eyed my thirteen-year-old brother with disbelief. Harvey was watching him with appreciation; you were staring at Louis as though he had grown another head.

"What a load of rubbish," I scoffed, turning away and heading towards the living room. "And don't call me Vicks!"

I could hear the three boys murmuring together as I collected my things that were lying around the room: a phone charger, one of my favourite shoes that I was planning to wear, a pile of hair clips. I grabbed them all and went back out into the hallway.

"Hey, Lew, you haven't seen my other -" I stopped as I saw Louis hold up my other shoe, an expectant look on his young face. "Thanks."

My brother waved his hand in the air, regarding my gratitude as unnecessary.

"When is this werewolf gig of yours?" he asked you innocently, and if I didn't know him any better I would have believed that my brother honestly didn't know.

"Oh, it's right now, in fact!" you replied with mock-surprise as you looked at your watch. I glared at you: if Louis was a bad actor, you were simply awful. "What a coincidence!"

"You'd better get going then, hadn't you?" I said, starting to head up the stairs to search for Dominique. "You wouldn't want to miss it."

"Neither would you," Louis muttered, just loud enough for me to hear him. I stopped midway up the staircase. "After all," he continued, seemingly to himself, "you only live once. Remember what daddy said about needing to live life recklessly sometimes ..."

"Fine!" I screamed, surprising everybody, including myself. "I'll come! But you -" I jabbed my finger at my brother who looked like he was having the time of his life "- are the one explaining to Molly and Dominique why I can't go out. Oh, and tell Mum where I've gone."

Louis shrugged, accepting that, and shooed us out of the door. I turned, about to say something, but he slammed the door in our faces as an act of finality from the situation.

"I'll kill him," I murmured, storming down the beach away from you and Harvey.

"You're going in the wrong direction!" you shouted, and I recovered my tracks and ran ahead of you and Harvey. By the time you caught up you were panting and Harvey was clutching a stitch in his side.

"Slow ... down!" he panted.

"Yeah, Vic," you added, and I almost didn't notice that you slipped your hand into mine in the process, "what's the hurry?"

I ignored you. I didn't, however, remove my hand from yours. I thought I owed you that much; after all, it wasn't going to lead to anything, anyway.

"So," you said as we approached a rugged-looking van and Harvey opened the door. "How are you?"

"Just fine," I replied, catching your olive eyes as I spoke and suddenly halting my breath in my chest. I stared at you, not knowing what to make of myself; you smiled and a bolt of electricity shot through me from the roots of my hair right down to my toes. "Er, yes," I said, flustered. "How - how are you?"

I didn't hear your answer as Harvey bundled us into the van, but I didn't care. I was too busy replaying the last moment in my head: I was sure you had felt the shock of electricity between us as well, and as I glanced at you it was obvious you had. The tips of your hair were turning pink and you kept your eyes firmly on the dashboard, your fingers drumming on the wheel, as Harvey looked around to check I was fastened in properly.

"Can I go?" you asked him, your voice a few octaves higher than it should have been. Harvey, thankfully, didn't notice - he gave his confirmation and the van rolled forwards; me not trusting myself to speak at all.

After all, who knew what would happen if I initiated conversation with you?

I should not and would not let myself fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band.

"This is it," Harvey breathed, standing in the side wing to the stage and rocking back and forth on his heels. "The big one."

Mark, who was biting his fingernails in the shadows, gave him a nervous push with his foot but said nothing. His hands were trembling. Jack, the bass guitarist, was tuning his guitar as he sat on a wooden stool beside Mark. And you ... you were mumbling each chord of your routine to yourself so quietly that it sounded like a gentle hum.

"We'll be fine," Jack said loftily, catching my eye and grinning at me. I smiled back, relaxing a little as I began to feel at ease in these strange surroundings. "We're The Chosen One."

Even Mark laughed at that, his glasses falling down his long nose in the process; he pushed them up quickly as the curtains began to rise.

"Oh, Merlin," he whispered, glancing back at me and turning his hand into a phone shape. "Can you call your sister for me? I promised Nikki she'd be able to hear us play, even without her being here."

I nodded, already taking out my Muggle mobile telephone and dialling my sister's number.

The curtains rose completely; the audience cheered in anticipation; Harvey straightened his posture and walked into the limelight, Mark and Jack following.

You hung back as my sister answered the phone; I said a hurried hello to her and held it up so she could hear the gig, staring at you as you adjusted your guitar and got ready to join your band mates.

"Good luck," I said throatily, suddenly nervous in the absence of other company.

You nodded, giving me a thumbs-up, and before I knew what was happening you had walked swiftly to my side and kissed me on the cheek.

"Thanks," you said, retreating on to the stage to the place where you belonged: in front of your screaming fans. The spot where you had kissed me burned; I sat down on Jack's abandoned stool and watched, every now and again holding my phone up to my ear to see if Dominique was still at the other end listening.

After a while she hung up, but I stayed listening to the performance; the audience loved you and the band, they begged you for more songs even after you had done an encore. I was tapping my foot to the rhythm of the band's music by the time The Chosen One finally finished; at that point, visible beads were glistening on each of the members' foreheads and Harvey had even gone as far as taken his shirt off and thrown it into the nearest crowd of over-excited girls.

I laughed as he ran off the stage and enveloped me in a massive hug, Mark and Jack not far behind, both of them grinning.

You stayed on stage for a second longer, throwing a pose to the audience before the curtains closed and you turned away.

"The boys are back!" Jack whooped, high-fiving Mark and slapping me on the back. "We haven't played that well in so long!"

"You did all right when I came to watch a few weeks ago," I said, pushing my hair behind my ear and smiling. "Even my mother liked it, and she's not a fan of rock bands."

"Rock and roll bands," you corrected, smirking slightly at me. "But I agree - that was epic."

"Completely mind-blowing," Mark agreed quietly, and when I caught his eye he looked pointedly between me and you.

"As if," I hissed in answer to Mark's unspoken question, linking my arm through his and making a mental note to get to know my sister's boyfriend better. "So, how's your girlfriend?"

"Forget about all that lovey-dovey stuff!" Harvey jumped onto Mark's back, giggling like Louis sometimes did. "He won't shut up about your sister, it's so annoying!"

I let go of Mark's arm, fearing for my safety when he tried to push Harvey off his back, the two boys laughing like a pair of ten-year-olds. Jack was texting, his thumbs gliding over the keys so quickly it was amazing to watch, and you were smiling to yourself in the background as you watched Mark and Harvey battle it out.

"Where to now?" Jack asked absent-mindedly, pressing 'Send' on his phone and tucking it into his shirt pocket.

"We have some fans to meet," Harvey answered, out of breath from the tussle with Mark. "Over there."

He pointed to a room many feet away where, for the most part, a large group of teenage girls were giggling and chattering excitedly.

"Oh no," you groaned, holding back as Jack shook his hair out of his eyes and sauntered forwards. "I'm not in the mood."

"Then go home!" Harvey yelped, Mark's foot making contact with his shin as means of payback from the moment before. "I'm the fittest member of the band, to be honest, so I'm sure they won't miss you."

I laughed as you hit him on the back of his head lightly, recognizing the banter.

"I think I will," you said, grabbing hold of my arm and pulling me back until I was touching your chest. "You boys go ahead, I'll see you tomorrow. Vic, do you want to go somewhere?"

I looked at my toes, thinking this over carefully.

"Define 'somewhere'."

You said nothing, just smiled and linked your little finger through mine and began to walk back the way we had come. I hesitated, but when you turned to look at me I read your expression: there was no hostility there, no ulterior motive and nothing I should be wary of. You looked completely honest and safe to be with, so it was for that reason that I followed you outside back to the van.

"We should Apparate," you said, to yourself more than me. "Take my hand."

I did as you had told me to, breaking the link of our little fingers and holding your hand instead. You tightened your grip, closed your eyes and the next thing I knew, you had turned on the spot and we were speeding through the compressing darkness to an unknown destination.

"You have a lovely place," I said as you opened the front door to your house, letting me go in before you. I looked around, taking in my surroundings: the entrance was small, with a potted plant by the door and a mirror on one of the orange walls; when you showed me the way to your room I found it to be quite a calm place, nothing like I expected. Louis's room back home was the messiest bedroom one could come across, but your bedroom was tidy and open with a comfy-looking couch at one end, a stereo mounted on the wall with the only thing out of place in the room being today's Daily Prophet, but even that was folded neatly at the foot of your bed.

"Yeah, I share the house with the other guys in the band. What do you think?" you asked, walking to a small mini fridge in the corner of the room that stood beside a wardrobe adorned with many music posters, the newest of which being a blown up tour poster for The Chosen One.

"It's unnaturally neat," I said honestly, fingering a blown-up photograph of four kids that hung on the wall, fidgeting with their arms wrapped around each other. "Hey, isn't this ...?"

You walked to my side, a bottle of wine in your hand, and looked at the moving photograph. You pointed to the boy on the left who looked no older than nine and was sporting a pale blue Appleby Arrows t-shirt.

"Yeah, that's my god brother James, before he became cool," you joked, before pointing to the small redheaded girl next to him whose arm was linked through James's. She was laughing, her petite frame bunched up from the emotion. "That's Lily, she's about five here. Even then, she and James were best friends. The boy next to Lils is a seven-year-old Albus - goodness, I forgot he used to have his hair like that."

I smiled softly, tracing my fingers over Albus's black side fringe and moving my glance to the boy next to him. This boy looked roughly fifteen and even from the grainy image I could tell it was you. Your tomato-red hair was hanging over your eyes and your eyes were fixed on Lily, laughing with her.

"Man, I loved that day when the photograph was taken. We were on holiday in France, it was brilliant," you said, turning away and locating two glasses that were standing on a shelf filled with books. I recognized some of the titles: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander was at the forefront, closely followed by a battered copy of A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot.

"So," I began, running my finger along the books and moving on to a small statue of a wizard, "why is your room so clean?"

"Don't like mess," you said simply. "You should see Harvey's room, though. It's a complete tip; it's just down the hall. I'll show you it later if you want."

You never did show me how messy Harvey's bedroom was. Instead, we spent the next few hours talking on the couch, gossiping and ranting and coming to the realisation that maybe we were all we needed to be happy.

Forget my claim of not falling for a boy in a rock and roll band - the wine had given me a nice, fuzzy feeling and I found myself drawn to you in a way that I really shouldn't have been.

"Hey, Ted," I giggled, sliding nearer to you and snuggling up to your chest. I looked up so I could see your face and smiled. "Kiss me."

I could swear you were about to. I could swear your head bent lower and your eyes twitched in efforts to close but something made you stop there and then.

"No, Victoire," you said, your voice heavy. "You're drunk, and I'm not going to take advantage of that."

I pouted.

"But I l-love you!" I protested, but even as I spoke the room began to spin and, later, I realised you were right. "I'm not dr-dru-drunk."

"Yes, you are," you argued firmly, starting to get up. "Here." You handed me a bottle of water from your mini fridge after opening it, keeping your gaze anywhere but on me. As I drank the water I began to sober up slightly, but I was still, as James would fondly say, quite pissed.

"You know, you wouldn't have to worry about taking advantage of me. I'm of age."

You laughed at that, but it was humourless and I wondered what I had said that made you laugh.

"Yes, Victoire," you said patronisingly, turning away to reorganize a row of CDs that lay on a metallic shelf below the stereo. "But you're 'never going to fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band'."

Sure I was being mocked, I clambered off the couch and stormed over to you, poking you in the back so hard you almost knocked down the shelf.

"Don't mock me," I snarled, stepping back so you could face me. You stared at me with shock at the sudden jibe but there was none of the friendliness you used to have; instead, I was a stranger to you.

"I'm not mocking you," you said in a low voice, narrowing your eyes. The ends of your fringe were steadily turning a dark shade of grey and you looked simply furious. "I don't mock people. You, however ... with your double-standards and -"

"'Double standards'?" I screeched. "How?"

"You say you'll never fall in love with a freaking boy in a freaking rock and roll band," your voice rose, though you replaced the 'freaking' with another word that I had only ever heard the boys at Hogwarts say, "and then you try to - to -"

"To what?" I screamed, hating every inch of you in that moment. "I'm drunk; you said so yourself! You think I would try to get off with you normally?"

"You're not drunk anymore," you said quietly. "You know exactly what you're doing."

"I hate you!" I yelled, getting a strong sense of satisfaction from the way your expression fell and you took a staggering step backwards. "I hate everything about you, Ted Lupin! From your - your stupid hair to your freaking band and the way you can't freaking fly!"

I didn't say 'freaking' either, but that didn't matter. I wanted to hurt you. I was lying about everything, but I didn't care - right then, I wanted to wound you so badly that you regretted everything that was between us. How dare you claim that I knew exactly what I was doing? I wasn't stupid enough to fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band; heavens, no.

"And also," I continued, glaring at you so much it started to hurt, "you think you can turn up on my doorstep, invite me to places and expect I'll say yes? I have my own friends; I'm not going to jump every time you ask me to!"

"Really?" you snarled, stepping forwards so we were nose to nose. "Then why did you come along? You have your own friends, great. Unless it's because of what your little brother Louis said, about you subconsciously wanting me or whatever the hell it was? He says you love me; you say you don't. Make your mind up, Weasley. Either you want me around or you don't."

I wish I was anybody but me in that moment. The way you examined me like I was a bug under a microscope ... it made me feel awful with myself, it really did.

"Fine," I choked, my eyes welling up. I wiped them furiously, hating myself for being weak enough to cry over a stupid boy. "F-fine! Leave, then! See if I care!"

You eventually stormed out once you saw I wasn't going to waver with my stupid decision; yet I stayed there in the middle of your bedroom, hating you but most of all hating myself for being idiotic enough to almost fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band.

"Vicki?" Dominique leapt off her bed once I stumbled home an hour later in the middle of the night. She had waited up for me, but right then I just wanted to be alone. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm not," I said bitterly, pushing away her comforting arms and walking to my dressing table. I sat down and looked in the mirror. Mascara had stained my cheeks with two black tracks, my hair was a complete mess and my eyes were puffy and red from crying. I started to wipe off my make-up, but I accidentally poked myself in the eye with the cloth and that set me off again.

"Oh, Victoire!" Dominique exclaimed, at my side in a flash. She took the cloth off me and span my seat around so I faced her. She sat on the edge of my bed and tried to look me in the eye as I sobbed. "What happened?"

"Ted and I," I began, hiccupping and pushing my hair out of my face, "we shouted and yelled and it was horrible, Nikki, it really was. I told him ..."

"Yes?" my sister prompted, her eyebrows pulled together as she stared at me with concern. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him I hated him," I said in a matter-of-fact tone. "And he left."

"I know," Dominique whispered, patting me on the shoulder. "Mark went back, just after Ted had left, and he thought he heard you crying upstairs but he didn't want to say anything, just in case. Apparently Ted was upset, too."

"Yeah," I said dully. "We said some god-awful things to each other. Oh, Nikki, he hates me!"

Dominique sat up straighter and tightened her ponytail, and I knew she was about to be logical. My little sister, solving every situation through quick wit and cool logic.

"Now then, I'm sure he doesn't." Dominique shook her head as though trying to get rid of any distractions and was the first of us to face up to the truth. "He loves you."

I snorted with the idea.

"How ridiculous," I murmured. "How completely and utterly -"

"You know it's true!" Dominique sang. "And so do I: Mark told me that Teddy wouldn't stop talking about you since the day you two met at that first concert. Seriously, everybody can see it."

"Then why didn't he ask me out?" I threw my hands up into the air and stared at my younger sibling.

"Because you made it quite plain you'd never fall in love with a boy in a rock and roll band. Teddy was exactly that, so what was he supposed to do?"

I looked at Dominique with disbelief.

"Now," she continued, kissing my forehead, going back to her own bed and climbing under the sheets, "you can either face up to the fact that you love Teddy Lupin and fix everything, or you can never speak to him again. Your call."

Long after she had fallen asleep I stayed awake thinking over what she had said.

He loves you. You can either face up to the fact that you love Teddy Lupin...

But I didn't love you. That was a ridiculous notion: you were a famous, cocky boy in a rock and roll band and I was a rational, beautiful young woman. As though we would fit into each other's worlds ... as though what we had between us was anything more than a silly little bolt of electricity caused by a stupid smile.

As my eyes began to close and my mind calmed down, I suddenly realised what I had perhaps known the entire time ... ever since that fateful day when we had met; ever since the moment I had scrawled my number onto your hand after that very first concert.

I was in love with a boy in a rock and roll band, and there was nothing I could do about it.

"I'm sure he hasn't gone far ..."

I paused as I made my way across the landing to the stairs, stopping outside Louis's bedroom. His room was the smallest, which was why he was the only occupant; that, and the fact that he was the only boy in the family. Louis was muttering, but he wasn't alone: after a few more moments outside his room I realised our sister was in there, too.

"Who hasn't gone far?" I asked, pushing the door open and peeking inside. As soon as they saw me Louis looked like a rabbit caught in bright headlights and Dominique began fidgeting awkwardly with the edge of her sleeve. "Tell me!"

"Well," said Louis awkwardly, and I noticed he was simultaneously refreshing his e-mail account, something that my father had only recently installed into the home. "Dammit, Harvey hasn't replied."

"Louis!" I scolded. "Don't speak like that. Tell me what's going on, please."

Dominique motioned for me to sit down on the only empty patch of carpet Louis's bedroom offered: the rest of the floor was covered in Quidditch magazines, Hufflepuff banners and uniform, dirty plates and one suspiciously clean silver necklace.

"Who does this belong to?" I asked with interest, picking it up with my little finger and holding it up in the air as I sat down in the limited empty space available. It was a simple yet beautiful thing and it glittered when I held it up to the light. Louis, when he turned around to see what I was talking about, snatched it out of my hand before I could open my mouth to protest.

"Lily," he said simply, and I could have sworn he blushed when he said Lily's name. "She was here just before you left ... don't look at me like that, Dominique was in the room too!"

I raised my eyebrows at my younger sister and she winked at me.

"Don't worry about them," she said in a soothing voice. "Lily only came around to tell us the news. Oh, and I think she wanted to see Louis, but ..."

I smiled slightly as Louis hit Dominique on the shoulder to shut her up, his face pained, but I wasn't really paying attention to their escapade. My mind was elsewhere: at the mention of Lily I had started to think about you, and the time we had fallen into the pond at your god family's house. I was certain you would have kissed me; goodness, you were going to kiss me the day we had met.

What an absolute idiot I was, I thought, despising myself thoroughly as the argument from the night before replayed through my mind.

"Victoire!"

Dominique's yell shook me out of my reverie. I looked up at her.

"Were you even listening?" She rolled her eyes, not even waiting for an answer. "Look, Lily came around to say that Teddy's gone missing. Nobody knows where he is, not his band mates or family ... they've looked everywhere. His bed's empty."

"Obviously," I said sarcastically, "if he's missing." Noticing Dominique's scowl, I hastily changed my opinion on the matter. "Sorry. Are you sure he's actually missing?"

"Quite sure," Louis yawned, swinging around on his computer chair and staring at the ceiling. "He's vanished off the face of the Earth."

I turned to Dominique for the expected logical arguments to Louis's remark, but even she was silent.

"It's true," she said at last. I stared at her in quiet disbelief.

"James is holding bets on where he is, according to Lily," Louis said conversationally. "Apparently the Weasley twins have put ten sickles on him being found dead."

I groaned inwardly. That was typical of Fred and Roxanne, but even so I couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that maybe they could be right. If nobody had found you and you weren't at home or at your god family's place...

"Oh, Dumbledore," I breathed. But this was not, as my sister had thought, an exclamation on how large the problem was turning out to be. My mind was racing as I pieced together the little bits of information and memories I had of you. "I think I know where he is."

"Where?" Louis practically screamed, standing up so quickly that the computer chair he was sitting on toppled over, crushing a paper display of a Quidditch playing field flat.

"I can't tell you," I said hurriedly, leaping to my feet and hopping over my brother's mounds of junk on the carpet. Opening the door, I stopped for a brief second to turn back to my siblings. Dominique had half-risen from her place near the (rather empty) bookcase and was wearing a confused frown; Louis was looking around, entirely bemused. "I may not be right, but if I am ... I'll let you know."

Ignoring my sister's protests and my brother's yells I sprinted down the stairs, past my mother who was carrying a vase of flowers for her bedroom, wrenched open the front door and legged it outside.

As I raced down the beach, my heart pounding, there was nothing I could do but concentrate on hopes of finding you. Even so, flashes of memories shot through my mind and I slowed down involuntarily from the efforts of keeping them away.

Can I have your number? ... A boy doesn't just give a girl an item of his clothing; especially a famous boy ... By the way, Teddy Lupin fancies you! ... So, you're never loving a boy in a rock and roll band, huh? ... Someday you'll fall in love with me!

You were right, I thought, as I almost tripped over a stray piece of driftwood that was half-buried by the sand. Someday I did fall in love with you; against my better judgement, might I add.

As I reached the place where my siblings and I had joined the bonfire party a few weeks ago I made a sharp left and retraced the invisible pathway I had made back then when I wanted space from the party.

Hoping against hope that I would find you, afraid of being sure that I definitely would, I kicked sand out of my way aimlessly as the rocky cove in the distance grew larger and my heart sped up in my chest.

You were here. I knew it.

"Hello?" I called, immediately regretting it. This wasn't a movie; as if anyone in their right mind would respond to an unseen stranger calling hello. Of course, we weren't in our right minds; they had been twisted and warped through love and hate, but I refused to let go of the notion that you were here.

I stopped, staring at the rocky cove we had sat outside back then when you had invited me to the bonfire party. The empty rocky cove.

My heart sank and I tried to fight off the floods of disappointment that rushed through my mind.

I suppose I should have known you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't tell me where you go when you're upset and then still trust me with that information after we had said those things to each other last night. You'd probably found a new place to mull things over in. Maybe in a different country ... with that Mariah girl, no doubt.

Just as I had given up all hope and turned away to go back home, a shock of movement in my peripheral vision halted me in my tracks and I caught my breath. Hardly daring to believe it, I turned.

"Hi," you said, looking so ruggedly beautiful as you leant against a rock that it almost took my breath away. You tucked the longest strand of your silver-blond fringe behind your ear and smiled. Even now I am not sure whether it was a real smile or you were just taking advantage of the moment, wanting to mess with how I knew that I could never have you anymore. "I'm Victoire."

I stared at you.

Then the understanding of what you were doing hit me with the force of an oncoming Hogwarts Express and my mind raced. What was it? Ah, yes.

"Ted," I said, plastering a grin on my face and extending my hand, exactly like you had done the first moment we had met; I was pleased that I had remembered.

"Hey, Ted," you said, hopping down so we were on the same level. "You did great up there." You said it with a hint of sarcasm and I flushed, ashamed of everything we had said to each other last night.

"Look, I'm really sorry."

"For what?" you asked, but I could tell we both knew the answer. You were sorry, too; I could see the way your eyes were guarded that you didn't want to admit it. "Why are you here, Weasley?"

I gaped at you. I had no answer; of course I had no answer. At least, no answer that I could put into words.

"I get it," you said dully when I didn't reply. There was no hint of remorse, or love, or kindness in your voice. Your face had clouded and you avoided my gaze. "See you around, Weasley ... or not."

You shoved your hands in your trouser pockets and started to walk past me, your shoulders hunched over and your hair, which was steadfastly turning blue, falling over your face. You accidentally banged into me slightly when you passed me but you didn't turn.

I stayed there, facing the rocky cove, staring at the space you had just vacated and feeling my face heat up. My eyes burned; within seconds they had spilled over and I was crying. I wiped the tears away impatiently, summoned every ounce of courage I possessed and spun slowly around.

You had walked away slowly, but you were still a considerable distance away when I finally spoke.

"Stay," I said simply, just loud enough for you to hear, just quiet enough for me to regret I didn't say it louder. You stopped.

"Why?" you said hoarsely, still facing away from me. The sun had been hidden by a heavy cloud and as we stood there it began to drizzle. Within minutes the rain was pouring down, but neither you nor I made any efforts to move.

I said nothing, just walked up to you and stood at your side. This was the place where I belonged, I realised. Beside you.

I had perhaps known it the entire time we'd been friends. I should have let you kiss me that day we met at your concert and thrown away my stupid principle of not falling in love with a boy in a rock and roll band before entering into this mess; because, as I found out, the things you try to run away from have a nasty habit of catching you up.

"'Why?'" I repeated, not having enough courage left within me to turn my head and look at you. "Because I -"

You waited. Thank you for that; for not turning away and leaving while I tried to put into words exactly how I felt about you.

"Because I love you," I said at last, shrugging. You finally looked at me.

"I thought so," you smirked slightly and turned so you were properly facing me. "It was pretty obvious, Weasley, I must say."

I ignored your blatant lie, trying not to smile.

"And less of the Weasley," I said, staring up at you, a smile playing with both our mouths. "Whatever happened to Vic?"

"I don't know," you murmured, your eyebrows turning bright blond. "I liked her."

"Me too," I whispered, your face coming closer to mine, just like it had the first day we'd met. You paused, and your olive eyes were wide as they sought mine. We gazed hesitatingly at each other for a moment before a question began to form on your lips.

"Vic," you began softly, but you never got to finish your sentence.

"Shut up," I breathed, throwing my arms around you and, at last, kissed you.

We stood there for what felt like an eternity; one of your hands was on the small of my back, the other was in my long hair. It was perfect, and we both knew it.

"I love you," you said heavily as we came up for air, your hair a bright pink and your eyes bright.

"I know," I laughed softly, and I brought your face down to mine and kissed your nose. "I know, Ted."

You grinned impishly at me before lifting me up and spinning me around. I was weightless, my mind swimming with what had just happened.

I'd finally done it.

I'd finally fallen in love with a boy in a rock and roll band.