Hi! This is a re-write from years ago. Enjoy!
Idiot. We, Victoire Weasley, are an idiot.
No, we're not.
Of course we are! A right and proper tit. How could he ever like us in that way? Why did it even occur to us to imagine something like that? He just thinks of us like a friend, or a sister. And we're lucky if we'll keep anything like that now!
But we hoped...
Yes, hoped. Hoping doesn't mean it's true, does it? It's like wishing, or even praying. All very conditional and risky. Nothing we should ever have embarked on. I told us so! Now we have to forget about him.
But we love Teddy. A lot.
No, we just like him, as if he were our brother. Or very good platonic friend.
Brother?! Don't be gross! If you're having thoughts like that about Louis I'm disowning you as the other half of my brain right this second.
We know that's not true though, about liking him. And we really thought he liked us back.
Well, he obviously doesn't. We need to take up a passtime to distract ourselves. Knitting? Chess?
No!
There is a battle waging inside Victoire Weasley's head. It's giving her quite the headache.
Victoire buries herself further under the covers of her bed, blocking out all the light and muffling sound. It doesn't really work, and she can hear the voices of her two friends, Megan and Olivia getting closer, which means they're coming down the corridor to the 5th year Ravenclaw girl's dormitories.
Great, She thinks, wishing she could cast a decent enough disillusionment charm to just disappear. Now we get drowned in sympathy.
The door creaks open, dragging along the thick carpet, and Vic feels her single bed wobble on both sides as her two friends plonk themselves down.
"Leave!" She demands, still muffled from under her three 'all very necessary' pillows, the third of which has to be specifically procured from a house-elf each year.
"It wasn't so bad," Megan tells her, resolving to ignore any and all bratty demands. Liv is busy feeling around the heavy duvet for a weak spot from which she might be able to extract the stubborn Victoire.
"Not so bad?!" Victoire demanded, excavating herself from the mass of bedcovers through sheer incredulity, sans Liv's help or coaxing.
"I've been humiliated in front of all of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. It might have even been enough of a scene that Slytherin started paying attention! On what planet is that "not so bad"?! He just stayed sat right there, gaping like a big handsome fish, like he couldn't believe how horrific the idea of going out anywhere with me was! And now I can never show my face at Hogwarts again."
Victoire is getting hysterical. If the inflamed, rambling rant wasn't enough of a tell, she's going a darker, ruddier shade of rose that her usual pretty blush and she's getting out of breath. All this, combined with her new bedhead, and she's looking fairly manic.
"I know!" She continues, like an unstoppable, off-the-rails Hogwarts Express.
"I'll run away to Beauxbatons. Mum always wanted me to go there, really.
Or maybe that's not far enough? What if we have long-lost family that might recognise me? But France is fairly big, what are the chances of running into them? I'll have to dye my hair, Weasley red really sticks out...
If I go missing will it be in the Prophet? Should I take my trunk or just a back-pack...?" Victoire, having reached her pinnacle, is about to leap out of bed and find said trunk/back-pack.
Liv, who shall hereby be known as a woman of action, spots the signs of an about-to-escape prisoner and springs from her own perch to tackle Vic back to bed; she puts a pillow over her head again- for safety. Vic has been known to bite when desperate.
"You don't get it, do you?" Megan now fires at the squirming mass of bed-linen, still pinned by surprisingly-strong-Liv. The wriggler halts a little at the question.
"Teddy fancies you too. A lot. And for ages. It's a bit pathetic actually..." she trails off with a nose scrunch.
Meg's own taste in boys has usually been the sort with whom both parties spend the entire pseudo-relationship pretending to not really care who the other is. She still considers herself enough of an expert in romance to intervene with utterly-hopeless-Vic, however.
"The pair of you have just been too blind and engrossed in your own stupid selves to realise!" Liv reveals, and finally relents the blessed pillow.
"What?" Victoire is shocked enough at this new revelation to overlook the fact that Olivia had called her and her lovely beloved 'stupid'.
"She's right." Meg snorts. "And because of your stupid mutual crushes, Teddy Lupin is downstairs standing front of the eagle, trying really quite hilariously hard to work out a riddle that even he knows he won't ever solve." The mirthful look on Meg's face is a little too amused. She always has had a bit of a sadistic side, and she does flash the concept of Schadenfreude around a lot.
"He waiting for you to come down so he can apologise and ask you out." Liv finishes the little speech, with a slightly more patient, understanding expression. Liv is the nice one, and possibly the favourite.
A bright, faintly mischevious grin is now spreading across Victoire's face. Sadistic and forceful her best friends may be, but she trusts their word utterly. The consequences for laughing at her and Teddy's missing eachother completely will come later. And Teddy's retribution for leaving her hanging in the middle of the Great Hall is imminent.
Her headache has miraculously disappeared. Peace is restored.
"I think we can leave him to try and solve the clue for a little while longer, don't you think?"