The scarlet steam engine was huffing off, emitting grey white smoke & pulling carriages & carriages of enthusiastic, excited and a few scared students, away from the concrete jungles of the city though the green pastures and farms of the countryside. The station 9 ¾ was left far behind, but the heart of a deep sea blue eyed and silver blonde haired girl of 17 standing in the corridor of the train, still seemed stuck there. On her lips she could still taste His passionate goodbye, as he tried to convey a thousand things and emotions through this one gesture; still could feel the warmth of his strong arms as he had held her tightly, like never wanting to let her go; her mind still in a daze, skin of neck still tingling where in the heat of moment, her boyfriend had sucked a bit too hard, giving her a hickey.
Her boyfriend!
Edward Remus Lupin! Was her, Victoire Ginevra Weasley's boyfriend!
Her boyfriend! Her best friend forever since birth was her boyfriend. Although the word 'boyfriend' didn't even begin to encompass fully the extent of her feelings for him, still it felt strange, almost dreamlike, too good to be true.
Teddy, as everyone called him in 'The Family', had known her since the day she was born, his first words on seeing her, as her mother would tell her were, "Aunt Fleur, is she an angel?"
They had been inseparable since childhood, as he was nearest to her in age among all other kids. Dom and Molly both were three years younger, and rest even further down.
She could still remember the countless days, they both spent on the beach building giant sand castles; degnoming the Burrow's garden, or going berry picking at his grandma's house, or just swinging in the old tyre (some odd circular rubber thing muggles put on their automobiles), which her uncle Harry, his godfather used to hang in summers from that cool tree which changed four times every year according to the season, in the backyard of his home in the Godric's Hollow, or watching movies on DVD eating pop corns at the Potter's or Uncle Ron's, or just babysitting all her cousins.
Then there were late nights on Saturday dinners at the Burrow, in tent pitched out in garden for all the kids, after all else had slept, they would lie awake, gazing up at night sky, and he would tell of the stories from ancient history and myths, and she would spin stories of fantasies and castles in air.
And then there were some special days. Like when he first learnt baking from his grandma, and baked a cake just for her. It tasted horrible, but still they both finished it in minutes. Like when he made a name plate to hang at the door of her room, from sea shells and miniscule star fish glued on a wooden plank, with glue all over his hands and in his hair. Like when he gifted her that camera that fueled her lifelong passion for photography. Like she was the first person he showed all his sketches in graphite, charcoal and ink. Like when they would play pretend and dress ups (on her mother's insistence, wishing to imbibe a bit of 'girl like' qualities in her), he would always be her Maid of Honour, and she would always play his Best Man (much to her mother's head banging frustration) and how they would sneak into wardrobes of her father, Bill and his godfather, Harry, to nick old clothes, wand holsters and knickknack, and appear in front of everyone after dinner, 7yrs old her as the world class, smart ass, kickass, badass Auror and 9yrs old him as a calm, cool, collected and composed Cursebreaker, and they would regale them all with their stories about travelling the world together, chasing international dark wizards, breaking into ancient Egyptian tombs and saving the world every time in the nick of time. Her mother would laugh saying they were cute, to which she would scowl and pout, but her father and godmother, Ginny would look at each other and burst out laughing. Bill would tell that he said something similar to a 7yrs old girl once who had declared her two dreams to her family, and Ginny would laughingly point to a wizard photograph of herself, in which she wearing dark green quidditch robes with a golden talon, would wink at them and turn her back to show two words written bold and clear in golden, 'CHASER' & 'POTTER'.
10yrs had passed. Victoire Ginevra Weasley now was a 17yrs old, with those same silvery blonde, waist length hair as her mother and deep sea blue eyes as her father, but now with a slender willowy figure and a face that, according to her boyfriend, would launch a thousand ships.
Most people, who saw her for the first time, failed to see beyond her Veela features and pegged her to be vain, superficial, delicate, and snobbish and all 'girly-girly' like the highly prejudiced view of the stereotype Veela most people held. And there was this absurd notion about beautiful girls with brains being in Ravenclaw, which led people to assume her to be in the Blue and Bronze house. It was all quite stupid in her opinion, as the brightest person she knew, Aunt Hermione, was a Gryffindor. As for the Veela stereotype, her mother was the most beautiful and one of the most intelligent and bravest people she had ever met, except maybe her Aunt Hermione and godmother Ginny. But it takes an incredibly brave and strong person to leave her peaceful homeland and come settle in a war-torn country, with daily terrorist attacks; to marry into a family which was most outspoken critic of the said terrorist and at the forefront of the war; to fight shoulder to shoulder with and stand along, no matter what, the man she loved. All despite being labeled a blood traitor, despite his father's battle scars (vain? Ha!) and despite, as her mother would always add shaking her head fondly, his mad, crazy family. She was her school's champion, an active member of Order of Phoenix and a war-hero, none of which you can accomplish by being delicate or vain. Now she would agree that her mother and her sister Dominique too for that matter, were much more than normal 'in touch with their feminity' but she was dead sure that had her mother gone to Hogwarts, she would have been sorted into Gryffindor too.
And Veela blood and features or not, she was all Weasley, proudly and stubbornly, with a tendency and love to get down in mud and get hands dirty, a passion for Quidditch, and through and through Red and Gold.
And it was her determination, pure grit, skill as a seeker (same position as her mother), fierce competitiveness and leadership that she was given the badge of Quidditch Captain last year, like Teddy and various relations- Uncles Charlie and Harry and Aunts Ginny and Angelina.
It was her intelligence, hard work and dedication that allowed her to be among the top of her year in most subjects and to bag the position of Head Girl like her mother in her school, and her godmother and father, both Head girl and Head boy in their respective 7th years.
She was a part of the post war baby boom, quite unlike Teddy, who was a war baby and whose year had 15 students in total all houses combined. Her year had 15 students in her house Gryffindor alone with an excess of people called Harrys, Harriets or Dawns, Hopes and so on. She was thankful that her name was Victoire and the only people resembling her name were both seniors, now pass outs, one Victor, a Ravenclaw, and a Hufflepuff girl named Nike, after Greek goddess of victory.
As a result both of the positions had been intensely competed for and to have bagged one of them was an achievement in itself, let alone both.
Although she was often reminded by everyone, that she was an exact replica of her mother at 17, except for the deep sea blue eyes of her father, she was all in all a Bill Weasley reincarnate. From her dressing preferences (much to her mother's chagrin) of comfortable and practical clothes ("unflattering"), along with accessories like her dog tags ("unfeminine"), a navigator's compass and anchor tattoo on her left forearm ("unapropriate" "Mom, the word is 'in-appropriate'" "Don't pull that one on me, young lady!") and a taste for heavy boots (her mother had quite a fit over her complete refusal to wear heels, not even ½ inch ones), to her personality- Tough, fiery, hardworking, passionate and opinionated with a strong head on her shoulders, which earned her, like her father, the respect and love of her siblings (give or take a 'few' regular, 'occasional' and frequent bouts of 'healthy' and quite physical sibling rivalry between her and Dominique) and multitude of cousins. And speaking of cousins, a single person flashed through her mind with a sudden surge of fury and frustration only elder siblings can relate to, as she muttered a single name to herself, with enough fire to roast a dragon, "JAMES SIRIUS POTTER!"