Teddy had to see her off. The thought of not seeing her again until Christmas was almost physically painful, but he had the comfort of her letters to keep him afloat.

"Write to me," he pleaded as he pulled his lips from hers on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. "Every week."

"I will," she said hastily, stretching up, trying to kiss him again.

"Promise," he moaned, thinly concealing the anguish he was feeling.

"I promise." She grabbed his chin, stretched up as far as she could, and pulled him down so that their lips touched again, softly.

The train's whistle blew and he pulled her into a quick embrace, soaking in the feel of her soft, green sweater, the heat of her body beneath it, and the smell of her platinum blonde hair.

"I love you," he whispered to her, letting her go. She walked backwards away from him a few steps, grinning and holding up the sign language gesture for "I love you." She turned around and disappeared onto the Hogwarts Express.

Victoire joined her friends in their compartment, but she took a window seat, thinking of Teddy. He was all she had ever wanted. He was intelligent and witty, but not like some of her rude classmates in Ravenclaw. He was of course kind, being a Hufflepuff, especially to her. But he wasn't shy either; he was bold and entertaining and funny. He would do just about anything to make Victoire laugh.

They had known each other just about all of their lives. Teddy was born before the Battle of Hogwarts and Victoire only two years later on the anniversary of the Battle. Teddy was the third person to hold little eight-pounds and five-ounces Toire – as he had always called her.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" asked the kindly old woman pushing her cart piled high with sweets, jerking Victoire out of her thoughts.

"N-no thank you," she stuttered. She flashed back to her childhood while the others bought their candy.

Five-year-old Victoire found Teddy sitting on the beach in front of Shell Cottage, making strange signs with his hands.

"What are you doing?" she asked, sitting down next to him.

"Grandma doesn't hear so good anymore," he said. "She's teaching me sign language." He held up a sign for Toire to see.

"What's that mean?"

"It means 'I love you.'" And with that, Teddy leaned toward Toire and tried to kiss her.

Laughing, she dodged his kiss and ran up the hill toward the house. "I bet you can't catch me!" she laughed.

"Fine, I bet a kiss!" called Teddy, running after her.

She looked back and didn't see the root in her path. She tripped, scraping her hands as she fell.

"Toire!" Teddy screamed as her caught up to her and stooped to the ground beside her. "Are you ok?"

She continued crying and buried her face in her knees.

Carefully, gently, Teddy took her hands and kissed her palms where they were bloodied, careful not to hurt her.

"I don't know, Teddy," said nine-year-old Toire, sitting cross-legged in a huge blanket fort in Harry and Ginny's living room.

"Come on, one little kiss?" he pleaded.

"What if they catch us?"

"I'll protect you. I'll always protect you." Teddy looked into her eyes.

"Oh, all right," said Victoire, snuggling close to him and bending her face toward his. Their lips touched and Teddy's hair turned bright pink.

"Dinner's ready!" called Ginny from the kitchen, jerking the kids back into reality.

And then there was the day it became real.

POP! Teddy apparated right into the kitchen of Shell Cottage, where Toire was making dinner.

"Teddy! What are you doing here? Why can't you apparate to the front door and KNOCK for a change?"

"That's no fun," he said, grinning. He popped a French fry in his mouth. "And I have a question for you."

"Sure," she said, not taking her eyes away from the pan.

"I need you attention," he said gently, taking the spatula from her hand and laying it on the counter. He held her gaze for a few seconds and then asked, as casually as if he had asked her to pass the potatoes, "Will you marry me?"

Toire was speechless for a minute, and then she asked, "Are you crazy?"

"Not that I know of."

"I'm only fifteen."

"And I'm only seventeen. I don't mean right this minute."

"What do you mean?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean that I want you to be mine. Forever."

"Well how about we take things one step at a time?" she said, laughing and jabbing him in the ribs as he tried to steal more French fries. "I'll be your girlfriend for now."

"That's a start." He hugged her around the waist and buried his face in her soft, blonde hair.

"Vic? Vic!" said Olivia Woodruff, Victoire's best friend from across the compartment. "Aren't you going to change into your robes?"

With a start, Victoire realized that everyone else had already changed into their uniforms. She got up silently and grabbed her clothes from her bag, dodging the other girls' legs as she headed to the bathroom.

In a daze, she changed out of her Muggle clothes, admiring the Prefect's badge as she pinned it in place.

She returned to her seat and sat in silence for the rest of the train ride, wishing she could turn around.