This is a fic with some Teddy/Victoire. It mainly revolves around Victoire's internal battles.
WARNING: Mentions suicide and self-harming
Victoire stared at herself in the mirror.
She knew that she was beautiful. Everyday people stared at her in awe or jealousy, revering her for her looks. Being one-eighth Veela gave her naturally good looks, and she had grown up with the knowledge and confidence that she was pretty.
Her long, silvery blonde hair cascaded to her waist. Her skin was pale and soft, with almost no blemishes or harsh lines. She had deep ocean eyes and thick black eyelashes. Her lips were full and pink and pouty.
Vic wrapped her slender arms around her waist and stared and stared and stared.
She hated herself. She hated that no one could take her seriously, not with her looks. She hated that she was so mean to Dominique and Louis and really all of her large family because she was so sanctimonious. She hated being her mother's favorite child and her father's least favorite. She hated stealing boyfriends from other girls. She hated that people wanted her to be beautiful more than she wanted to be beautiful.
Vic took her wand and whispered, "Diffindo," She let the wand cut across her skin. There was the sharp pain, and the dull throb. Red drops beaded and she smiled inwardly. She breathed in and out, slowly, carefully. Maybe these would be her last breaths.
The door slammed open and she jumped in surprise. Teddy Lupin stood in the doorway. His hair was turquoise (her favorite shade on him) and his eyes were warm chocolate brown. She could see happiness and leisure in them. He spotted her and his eyes widened.
The happiness shifted to confusion, then fear
"Vic," He breathed, walking towards her. "Vic, what did you do?"
On her pale, slim wrists were the red slashes. The red dripped from her wrists to the ground. Drip. Drip. Drip.
She dropped her wand and saw herself collapse in the mirror.
"Merlin. Oh, God." Teddy rushed over to her and held her in his arms. His Healer training kicked in. She nearly laughed at the practice she was giving him. "We're going to Apparate to St. Mungo's, okay? I'll get the Potters and the Weasleys after that. Everything will be fine. You'll be fine, Vic. I'm here. I've got you."
She felt the pull in her navel and was suddenly a clean, white facility. Everything was white, white, white. Her blood fell to the floor. Vic felt cloudy and removed, like everything was a dream. She faintly remembered the contrast of bright red on stark white and the color of Teddy's hair.
Vic remembered his reassurances. She held onto them like a whiny baby might hold onto his mother's skirts. Like a suicidal girl might hold onto her boyfriend's words. Her mind felt numb. There was no more pain in her wrist.
She didn't know what exactly it was that she feared. It certainly wasn't death. Vic embraced death. It was black and dark, but it was warm and more comforting than the blur of colors that she faced in her life.
Perhaps it was the expectations of others that she feared. Vic had to be beautiful. There was no other choice. People expected her to be beautiful, so she in turn forced herself to care. And if she didn't care, she wasn't beautiful anymore. And people were disappointed. Because if Victoire wasn't beautiful, she had nothing good to say for herself anymore. She wasn't extraordinarily smart or diligent or brave or cunning. She was only mean and beautiful, and she couldn't take her beauty from herself. She couldn't let herself take her beauty.
It was nice to not care, she mused to herself. The Healers performed a number of spells. Victoire watched them sleepily. She was vaguely aware of Teddy's warm, large, calloused hand in hers. She looked down at it and smiled.
Tan on white. Her skin was turning bluish from lack of blood. "Drink this, ma'am." A Healer placed a vial of foul-smelling liquid to Victoire's lips. She shrunk from it, but Teddy squeezed her hand and she acquiesced.
The liquid burned down her throat.
She regained color in her hands. Warmth spread through her. A Blood-Replenishing Potion.
They tried to sedate her completely, but she thrashed around until they promised not to. She wasn't dying. Maybe she was going to go crazy. But if she was, she wanted to see Teddy before her sanity left her.
Just as she laid her eyes on his, the door burst open and many people with red hair flooded into the room. Orange-red and auburn, Victoire thought. Others came in, too, people without the signature flaming red Weasley hair. There were two black-haired people, a man and a boy, standing together. One looked sad and the other looked frightened. A woman with brown hair and kind eyes covered her mouth when she saw Victoire. And there was a single blonde woman, her hair the same shade as Vic's, that rushed forward and took Vic's other hand.
The woman holding Vic's hand was all pale and angled. It was her mother, she realized through the haze. A man beside her called her Fleur, and she addressed him as Bill.
Victoire tried to name everyone in the room. Herself, Vic. Fleur. Bill. Dominique. Louis. Harry. Ginny. Lily. James. Albus. Hermione. Ron. Hugo. Rose.
And Teddy.
Somewhere, someone was calling her name and someone else was crying. She tried to focus, but couldn't.
Teddy leaned towards her. "I love you," He murmured.
She felt beautiful. Victoire let the white hospital lights consume her, and she smiled.