*A reviewer pointed out that I combined two words incorrectly to make up the word 'Matante'. While it's true that the French word for aunt is 'tante' and 'ma' is my, 'matante' is a colloquialism that also means aunt. My source? French is actually my first language. I use this on a regular basis - I'm not sure if it's restricted to Canadian French or if it is used in France as well but I like the affection that comes with the term :)

Victoire had always been a happy and headstrong girl, and a sure bet for Gryffindor. Gabrielle couldn't have been prouder of her niece, and told her so with every visit, every holiday, and every summer break. Victoire had always tried her hardest in First and Second Year, seeming to effortlessly live up to her parents' legacies as a Curse Breaker and a Spell Mistress.

Now a Third Year, she had been doing well, as usual – until just before the Christmas holidays. Having been notified of a sudden drop in her grades, Bill and Fleur had asked Gabrielle to speak to Victoire about it first. Their relationship had always been as easy as breathing, and she acquiesced with grace.

Gabrielle waited patiently on Platform Nine and Three Quarters as the train arrived; ignoring the glances she received from passing men. As a young girl, she had often dreamed of what it would be like to take the Hogwarts Express, especially after briefly attending the Triwizard Tournament and meeting Harry Potter. She smiled to herself as she thought about her childhood crush on the boy-hero, before her realization that they just never would have worked together.

She was brought slowly out of her thoughts as students began to stream from the train, in pairs, trios, and large groups. Keeping a sharp eye out for Victoire, she noticed as some students made it a point to walk around her, while others whispered behind their hands as they saw her. Eyes narrowing, Gabrielle's hearing sharpened enough for her to catch a snippet of conversation from two passing girls.

… bet she's just like her.

Gabrielle grew more uneasy as students passed and still Victoire was unaccounted for. Finally, as a group of upper-year boys passed through the barrier with raucous laughter, she saw her. Her eyes widened, and only years of self-control kept her hand from flying to cover her mouth. Victoire's eyes were downcast, but Gabrielle didn't have to see them to know that they would be shimmering with a magic unknown to most witches and wizards.

Gabrielle made her way quickly towards her niece, pulling her into a hard embrace. Quickly, she apparated them away.

They appeared in a muggle park that only Gabrielle knew to be near Grimmauld Place. She released Victoire and sat on the snow-covered grass, Victoire hesitated but a moment before joining her. They were silent for a long while, their breath rising as mist in front of them. Finally, Victoire broke the silence.

"I… was afraid. Afraid to tell mum it had started. I just woke up one day, and I looked like… like…"

"An adult."

"Yes. Almost, anyway. My friends didn't know how to act, and I didn't either. I look different, but I feel different too."

She turned her cornflower-blue eyes on Gabrielle, the freckles on her cheeks and nose standing out in stark relief against her milk-white skin. Gabrielle sighed and took her hand.

"Being Veela is not an easy thing, ma chère. You are not a witch with a certain value of Veela blood – all females born with a measure of Veela blood are so. Full blooded Veela."

"But what does it mean? To be a Veela?" Victoire questioned impatiently. "I'm thirteen and I look like a twenty year old! Its just… inappropriate!"

"And people react differently to you, non? Boys look after you in the halls, girls whisper as you pass, and the teachers aren't quite as sure of themselves with you."

"Exactly," Victoire whispered. "And when the boys look at me, … I liked it, Matante! At first. When they started bothering me, I went to Professor Longbottom, and he made sure it stopped. But… I still like it a little." Victoire looked down once more, ashamed of herself.

Gabrielle bristled at that. "Non! You must never be ashamed or embarrassed of who you are, Victoire! The Allure of Veela is powerful, it is true – but there is no shame in being proud of the way you look, just like there is no shame in being proud of your academics or your hard work. They are all a part of you."

"Will I ever be able to make it stop? To control the Allure? Daisy Finnegan stopped me in the hall and accused me of feeding her cousin Mal a love potion. And that wasn't even the worst of what people said!"

"You will never be able to make it stop, as you put it. It is a part of you. Even when not actively drawing others in, it keeps you sane, Victoire. It tempers your emotions and levels out your magic."

Seeing Victoire's eyes brimming with tears, Gabrielle buried her hesitation and decided to share something she had considered long buried.

"I was eleven when my Allure activated."

Victoire gasped and looked at her aunt in wonder. "Eleven? But that's so young!"

"Yes," she smiled serenely, "it was. It was at your maman and papa's wedding that it happened."

Victoire sobered. She knew what had happened that night. At least, she thought she did.

"The wards had fallen, and people were screaming." Gabrielle closed her eyes as she began, skipping the beginning that Victoire had heard dozens of times. "Anti-apparition wards had already gone up, and those who had portkeys were fast to use them. I hid under a table as they ripped into the tent. They were setting fires to what they could as they went. My parents had been apparated out by other guests in the first wave, but I was overlooked."

Gabrielle laughed, a soft, comforting sound that jarred Victoire in its sudden harshness.

"As I watched my sister's wedding dress burn, I felt it. It was almost as if I was burning right along with her. I could feel my body stretch and grow as the magic overtook me. My dress was barely holding in my new… assets, and my hair had grown almost to my knees."

Gabrielle spoke on, eyes closed, reliving that evening.

"There were bodies on the ground, and there was so much screaming. It was all I could hear, but the only thing I could feel was the Allure. In the heat of the moment, I could see those trying to fight dropping, helpless guests being tortured. The Ministry had fallen, there was no help coming. And then the Allure took me."

Gabrielle's eyes were still closed, and Victoire was so enthralled by her tale that she started as her Aunt's clear blue eyes snapped open and fixed on her.

"I used my Allure to lead over ten Death Eaters into fatal line of fire that night."

Victoire could do nothing but gape as Gabrielle's eyes seemed to scorch her with an inner fire. As Gabrielle's features sharpened revealing her avian ancestry, hair gliding around her in a slight invisible breeze, Victoire could almost see the events unfold. She smiled, her features softening and hair falling back around her shoulders.

"So as to your question, no, Victoire. You will never be able to control the Allure. But you should never have to."

As they sat in the snow staring at one another, Victoire knew that her life would never again be the same. But looking at her Aunt Gabrielle, she thought that maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. Perhaps learning of her heritage and of the gifts it brought wouldn't be such a hardship.

Maybe everything would be okay.

Written for Round Two of the Decisions, Decisions Competition. This Round was focused on Family, and the pairing I went with was Victoire/Gabrielle. The prompts used were: hesitate, inappropriate, 'Milk Carton Kid' by The Milk Carton Kids, and "If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance".