Snow Real Snow
Victoire Weasley is spinning. Her eyes are closed, intent on savoring the scent of the trees without having to see them. Stretched out on her sides are her small white arms where the crisp January air gently whips, cool and invigorating. Her delicate head full of big red curls is tilted upwards, facing the overcast sky.
She is a sight to behold but Fleur is anxious for her to stop. They are just a few minutes away from commencing and she won't have her daughter marching about with hair wilder than the barren forest that surrounds them now.
"Victoire," she beckons.
But the little girl doesn't hear her. Instead, the sound of Teddy Lupin's rollicking, boyish laughter outshines her throaty voice. He is sitting on an uprooted tree not more than a meter away from where Victoire is doing her fouettés. He claps his hands and encourages her to go faster.
"Teddy," Fleur says. The little boy looks at her and she shakes her head in a slight, reprimanding way. Teddy immediately falls silent but continues to watch his best friend, his eyes still twinkling with excitement.
For a moment, Fleur is unable to remove her gaze from the boy. She is amazed at how his tiniest movements sharply echo the faces of his parents. He would tilt his head a certain way and Remus is alive again, quietly poring over a book or a newspaper. And during the subtle changes in Teddy's facial expressions, Nymphadora's spunk and spirit are especially present.
Fleur sighs and turns her attention back at Victoire. She wonders what Remus and Dora would say if they knew how much she envies them because of Teddy. He's a perfectly ordinary child—exactly what Fleur wanted her daughter to be. And Victoire is not even remotely close to being ordinary. At least not in the wizarding world.
"Victoire," she calls again. With great effort, she pushes back the sad thoughts forming in her mind and tries to control the rising poignancy in her voice. "Victoire, s'il vous plait."
Her daughter finally hears her summons. She ends her twirling and lands silently on her feet. The mass of twirling chiffon has turned back into a little girl dressed in a downy-white dress tied with lavender ribbons around the waist.
"Look at your 'air," Fleur sighs. Victoire skips towards her a guilty-looking smile peeking from underneath her wild mass of locks.
Obviously, Victoire inherited her grace and passion for dancing. Her big red curls are no doubt from Bill's side of the family along with the impish grin and freckles that dust her cheeks and nose. Her face is heart-shaped and perfectly symmetrical, the rest of it reminiscent of Fleur's Veela grandmother, promising to render scores of men unconscious as soon as she comes of age.
Victoire is certainly a beautiful child and any parent would love to have their little girl look just like her. But for Fleur, she would rather have a plain-looking daughter than a beautiful one that cannot do magic.
Fleur takes out her wand, ready to magically reweave lilies back in her child's hair. She looks at the stick of rosewood in her hand, an heirloom from her grandmother. Her chest tightens, sad at the thought that her first-born wouldn't even be allowed to touch it.
With Victoire now five years of age, Fleur is already out of reasons to explain her daughter's inability to demonstrate even the tiniest bit of magical inclination. In the books she read while pregnant with her little girl, she learned that manifestations begin in children as young as one.
When Teddy levitated his cake on his first birthday, Fleur couldn't wait for Victoire's turn. She imagined all the scenarios she read in the parenting books—disappearing furniture, exploding formula bottles, flying stuffed animals, Transfigurating the nanny—each one growing more extraordinary and grander than the next.
So when Victoire reached two and didn't cause anything to levitate or explode, Fleur started to panic. Bill, their friends, and the Weasleys and Delacours offered different speculations. Perhaps, she's a late bloomer. Maybe her situation's different because she was born during the war. The effect of Bill's werewolf bite combined with her Veela heritage was also considered. Every month and every year, there was a new reason. But still, no magic came.
Then last year, she and Bill decided to give up the wait for Victoire's manifestation. A few months later, they sought Hermione's advice in researching Muggle schools. They even asked her to spend weekends at their seaside home to subtly introduce Victoire into the Muggle way of life.
It broke Bill's heart and Fleur was inconsolable for quite a while but fortunately, they have come to terms with it. There are moments though, like today, when the thought of it is especially painful.
Fleur tries to shake herself out of her misery. She considers that this tide of emotions is only due to tonight's special affair— Harry and Ginny's wedding. A truly momentous occasion set today to welcome the New Year's Eve.
"You will sit down on ze tree beside Teddy, yes?" she asks Victoire. The girl in turn nods and dutifully prances towards the uprooted tree Teddy is sitting on.
"That was wicked," the boy says to her as she sits down. She proudly grins at him as Fleur moves to stand behind the tree to begin fixing Victoire's hair.
"I wish I can turn like that. You were like a tornado. I've never seen one but Uncle Charlie said…"
For a few minutes, Teddy fills the air with his enthusiastic chatter. Fleur listens with great interest, even sharing her thoughts every once in a while. Another thing about Victoire is that she hardly ever spoke. So whenever Teddy is around, she greatly indulges his talkative nature which is a refreshing change from her child's quiet nature.
"You should go again!" Teddy exclaims.
"No, no, no," Fleur cries out in exasperation. "You can spin all you want after ze ceremony, Victoire, but hold off for now. Eet eez almost time!"
"Oh bilge! Is it, Aunt Fleur? We're ready to go?"
"Almost, mon cher. We just wait for your Aunt 'Ermione's signal."
"Wiiickeeed!"
Victoire laughs and claps her hands, excited as well.
"Aunt Fleur," Teddy pipes up again, "aren't we supposed to have snow?"
Victoire noticeably perks up at this question. She cranes her neck to face her mother, anticipating her answer.
"Er," Fleur begins, unable to think of something brilliant. Snow was the plan and Ginny's most important requirement for this day. And Victoire, who especially loves snow, was the bride-to-be's companion (next to Harry, of course) in looking forward to the New Year.
But Christmas had come and gone without the gentle force of nature, and Ginny finally resigned to the fact that she won't have the winter wonderland she asked for. She was disappointed but Fleur knew Victoire will be crushed.
"I don't theenk we'll be 'aving snow," she gently answers.
"Are you sure?" Teddy prods with his face in a frown.
Victoire's crestfallen face hovers beside him. She finally speaks, her voice silvery and sad. "Quel dommage."
"Oui," Fleur nods. "What a pity." She moves around the tree to face them. "But don't be sad. Your Aunt Ginny and Uncle 'Arry are still getting married! Zat eez what's important, n'est-ce pas?"
"I guess," Teddy pouts. "Maybe Uncle George can make it snow!" he adds brightly. "He might have something in his shop!"
Fleur shakes her head. As a matter of fact, George does have a product to give them snow, enough snow, in fact to last them until the morning after. But Ginny, ever the purist, wanted only the real thing. It was either a real drizzle or nothing at all. "Your Aunt Ginny prefers real snow." She glances at Victoire who is nodding in agreement. There's nothing like real snow for her as well.
This doesn't dampen Teddy's resolve though and he asks again. "Is there no spell to make it snow real snow?"
Fleur looks up at the sky, searching for Hermione's signal, wishing it would come now. She doesn't like talking about magic with Victoire around, worried that she might start asking if she's capable of doing magic any magic at all.
She looks at her daughter whose bright, blue eyes are now wide in anticipation. Fleur couldn't help but smile. Victoire got the Delacour eyes but hers held a depth that she has never seen before. These ocean-coloured orbs are now the only things giving her hope. Hope that there's more to her little girl than just spinning and waiting for snow. Hope that maybe she will speak more when she grows older. And hope that perhaps, she will eventually do magic when she least expects it.
Fleur sighs, unable to resist her daughter's pleading eyes.
"I theenk there is. But only a few people can make ze spell work. They are those born with eet. Zat certain je ne sais quoi one needs to command snow or any other force of nature for zat matter. Zat something makes you different from all ze other witches and wizards. For example, your mother was born with a certain trait zat made her a very good Metamorphagus."
Teddy grins, proud to hear his mother mentioned in such a glorious light. "So why didn't Aunt Ginny look for those people?"
"Zat's a very good question, Teddy. Unfortunately, we don't know anyone who can do eet. They probably haven't mastered eet yet or are even unaware of zat power."
Teddy sighs and reassuringly pats Victoire on the back. She smiles gratefully back at him. Fleur braces herself for another onslaught of Teddy's questions.
Fortunately, Hermione's signal made itself visible. Above the small clearing they were sitting in, three lavender stars exploded into a hundred smaller stars. The wedding is about to begin.
The two children are on their feet in a flash, cheering and jumping up and down. Fleur pacifies them sternly, concerned about Teddy's dark velvet dress robes getting dirty and Victoire's hair getting mussed up again.
"Calm down, calm down! Places, please!" Fleur cries. Already the barren, golden brown forest is parting from behind and in front of them to form an aisle.
Teddy hops in front of Victoire and stands up straight. Fleur stoops down to adjust his tie.
"Don't forget, Teddy. Not too fast."
"Yes, Aunt Fleur."
She hands him a tiny box that has the same color as his robes. "Here are ze rings. Be careful with them!"
"Relax, Aunt Fleur. I got it," he smiles.
Fleur moves over to Victoire who is looking oddly pensive.
"Oh, cherie. Are you nervous?"
She shakes her head.
"Are you sure?"
She nods.
"Okay. Do you remember what we practiced?"
Victoire nods once more. "Not too fast down the aisle. Walk three times around the gazebo."
"And?"
"And don't forget to scatter the flowers," she says, raising her basket filled with lavender petals.
Fleur smiles and kisses her once on each cheek. In front of them a larger clearing is slowly becoming visible.
In it is a large crowd that is also slowly parting to meet the leaf-covered aisle. Set in the middle of the clearing is a fairly-sized gazebo, painted white and adorned with crystal snowflake ornaments. Inside it, Harry Potter is looking handsome in his black dress robes. He looks nervous but eager to see his bride. On either side of the wooden pavilion, Hermione and Ron stand, struggling between smiling and holding back tears.
Fleur will have to join the crowd now and leave the two children to present their Aunt Ginny. But as she is about to step away, Victoire speaks again.
"Mum?"
"Victoire?" she replies in alarm. "Eez there something wrong? Do you want me to stay?"
She shakes her head. "I was just wondering, Mum. What's the spell for snow?"
Fleur's breath catches in her throat, realizing what her daughter is planning to try to do, "Oh Victoire!" she says. "You… you can't—"
But her words are interrupted with gasps from the crowd. The final copse of trees have parted and revealed Ginny, dazzling and beautiful in a long, embroidered white dress almost completely covered in diamonds. Her red hair is held up in a neat bun with crystal pins.
"It's okay, I think I know," Victoire whispers to her mother, eyes gazing admirably at her aunt. "I think you should stand with Dad now, Mum."
Reluctantly, Fleur leaves her daughter's side and glides up to stand between Bill and Charlie in the first row of people that surrounds the gazebo. She knows she should tell her husband about her little exchange with Victoire but the children's walk has already started.
Instead, she takes Bill's hand and squeezes it tight. Bill squeezes back and looks down at her.
"Are you all right?" he whispers in her hair.
Fleur nods in quiet reply and leans her head against his shoulder.
Teddy is finally within her line of sight, trudging down the last few feet of the leaf-covered aisle. He reaches the gazebo and circles it three times, the box of rings held up in front of him. Bill quietly chuckles every time Teddy walks past them, whispering to Fleur how the boy reminds him so much of Remus. After his third round, Teddy walks into the gazebo and stands beside Ron.
Now it is Victoire's turn to walk and present her Aunt Ginny. All eyes return their gaze to the aisle where the little girl has started her walk, gracefully scattering the white petals on the floor as Ginny followed her.
"She looks great," whispers Bill.
"Of course," Fleur whispers back. "My side of ze family, remember?"
Bill grins. Fleur notices him squint a little. "Didn't you say you picked purple tulips for the petals?"
"Yes, why?" Fleur asks confusedly. She turns her attention back at Victoire and sees the reason for the confusion.
White. She's quite sure she put lavender petals in Victoire's basket. That was what Ginny wanted. And that was what she saw a few minutes ago when her daughter held up her basket for her to check.
Fleur is frozen in place but she can feel her heart beating wildly, almost out of her chest. She watches her daughter finally reach the gazebo and begin her three walks around it. From somewhere, a cool wind blows through the guests and down the aisle where Ginny waits patiently, watching her niece with adoring eyes.
"Victoire," is all she can manage to whisper.
Then, a gasp. It is Ginny, looking up at the larger clearing's sky, her bouquet of lilies grasped in her tightly clenched gloved fists. The guests follow her gaze and gasp as well.
Small, white flakes are falling from the sky and onto the gazebo roof, the guests and the clearing. There is no mistaking the gently drifting flecks. Snow. Real snow.
"Wiiickeeed!" Teddy exclaims as soon as he sees the first few flakes fall on the uncovered ground outside. Ginny begins to walk down the aisle, ecstatic that her wedding is now perfect—white.
"Hey," Charlie whispers to Bill and Fleur who are still, clearly stunned. He smiles at them. "That was her. That was Victoire."
Bill nods with his mouth slightly open. Fleur can feel the tears streaming down her cheeks. She can hardly see through her eyes now but she catches as glimpse of Ginny whispering something to Harry. He nods and walks over to Hermione's side to pick up Victoire.
He steps out of the gazebo and approaches Bill. "Ginny said it would be great if Victoire's outside enjoying the weather," he grins though his glasses.
"Thank you," he whispers to Harry as he took his daughter in his arms. "Now go back there and marry my sister."
Harry chuckles and jogs back to the gazebo.
Bill kisses Victoire soundly on the cheek. She giggles, tickled by his bristly chin. Fleur dries her eyes and looks up at her family, the warmth of happiness spreading in her chest.
"You know ze spell for snow?" Fleur asks Victoire, knowing her happiness is more on the fact that her daughter just did magic. She could've made it rain and she wouldn't have minded.
"Maybe," replies Victoire thoughtfully. She smiles down at her mother. "I think I always have."
Fleur smiles back at her, unable to say anything more. Perhaps that's why Victoire hardly ever spoke. Maybe she never really found the need to on most occasions. Maybe for her, everything's perfect the way it is.
"Happy New Year, Mum," her daughter whispers as her eyes look up to face the approaching snowflakes.
Her mother grins and looks up as well. "Happy New Year, Victoire."