A/N: This is basically the oneshot that got away. I don't even. It was supposed to be short! Anyway. Enjoy.
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i can take the cold from your bones
chapter one
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She is three years older than he is, which makes it all the more offensive when an eight-year-old Lysander steals Victoire's first kiss one hazy summer afternoon in the Burrow's backyard.
"Get away from me, you horrible little boy!" she shrieks, though little is hardly the best word to describe him, considering he and his twin Lorcan are unnaturally tall for eight-year-olds, maybe even taller than Victoire is at eleven. After getting over the initial shock at how brazen, how utterly impudent, the grinning boy is, she reaches out with both hands and shoves him away from her, hard.
Lysander merely tosses his head, a tousle of dark brown hair falling back, and smirks at her. His mischievous face is tanned from weeks of playing outside under the scalding summer sun, and his silvery gray eyes twinkle. "Aw, come on, Weasley," he taunts. "You liked it."
Victoire gasps, her blue eyes widened in shock. "Why, you…" she hisses, so angry she can barely even see straight. "You…you…rude, nasty little creature. Never, in my entire life, have I been so –"
"- attracted to someone?" the precocious Lysander supplies with a roguish smirk.
"Agh!" she screams in frustration, assembling her hands on her hips in a pose of wrath that would give her mother a run for her money. "Just who do you think you are, anyway?"
"I'm Lysander Scamander," he tells her earnestly, to which she rolls her eyes because of course she already knows that. Does he think she's stupid? And that's not what she'd meant, anyway, though she supposes she can't expect a little child like him to understand the concept of rhetorical questions. "You can tell me apart from my brother 'cause he's got lighter hair. Plus he's the quiet one who's always reading. I'm the one with behavior problems, that's what our nanny said, anyway."
Annoyed by Lysander's incessant prattling, Victoire crosses her arms over her chest impatiently. She looks past him and sees all of her little cousins playing in her grandparents' yard, all of the adults too far away to put a stop to Lysander's antics.
"Enough!" Victoire finally shouts, effectively shutting up his rambling with her fiercest glare. "What in Merlin's name made you think you could just…just…kiss me like that?"
He shrugs. "You're awfully pretty," he tells her earnestly, and despite herself, Victoire finds herself blushing. "I just couldn't help myself."
It takes her a moment to recover from his unabashed explanation, she's not sure why, and when she does, she looks at him like he's nothing more than a nasty little beetle she'd step on in a heartbeat. "Well, Scamander, you need to get some self-control." She sniffs superciliously. "And for your information," she scoffs, "that was a horrible kiss. In fact, you're the last boy on earth I'd ever want to kiss me. You're nothing but a child." She smiles meanly at him. "Maybe you'll have better luck with girls your own age. Though I highly doubt it." With that, she turns on her heels, her long, blonde hair flying over her shoulder and hitting him in the face, and flounces away.
"You know you love me, Weasley!" she hears Lysander call from behind her.
Victoire narrows her eyes in anger, but refuses to indulge him by replying.
Her six-year-old cousin James has apparently heard Lysander's declaration and is laughing hysterically at her from the grass nearby. She sticks her tongue out at him and storms away.
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Victoire starts Hogwarts that September, which is a little scary but would have been much worse if Teddy weren't there to board the Hogwarts Express with her. And thank Merlin, she's sorted into Gryffindor, just like Teddy was and her dad was and all her aunts and uncles were years ago.
Still, though, Teddy's a third year with his own gang of friends, and it's hardly cool for him to hang around with a little first year girl. The first night that Victoire sleeps in her new four-poster bed at Hogwarts, she cries herself to sleep because of how much she misses her parents and Dominique and little Louis. But the next morning, she makes sure all signs of weakness are gone from her face and her attitude, because she's going to rule this school, just you wait and see. Victoire's far too used to being in charge of all of her cousins and bossing everyone around not to be in charge wherever she goes. Being friendly doesn't exactly come naturally to her, but she carries herself with such poise and confidence that she can't help but become popular in her year. The girls are all a little jealous of her, half the boys have a crush on her, and all of them are slightly afraid of the self-assured blonde with the sharp tongue.
She likes all of her classes pretty well, although she doesn't appreciate it when she's paired with Angus Marthopper in Potions and he accidentally explodes their cauldron all over her, ruining her robes and making her hair full of the foulest stuff. She appreciates it even less when Greta Hopkirk, in a Charms lesson gone horribly wrong, turns her skin a hideous hue of bright green that won't go away for a day. In both instances, Victoire shouts at Angus and Greta so much in the common room later that everyone becomes too afraid to partner with her in classes, resulting in Victoire usually being stuck paired with a Slytherin for lessons.
After the Christmas holidays, one of the first year Gryffindors, Flossy Derwent, brings back the most wonderful magical hair ribbons, but only enough for herself, Victoire, and another girl in their dormitory, Olivia Kent. That's the start of their exclusive clique, and it quickly escalates until the three girls are sitting apart from the other girls in their year at mealtimes and in the common room, gossiping in hushed whispers about everyone who isn't one of them, and dressing the same whenever they can. Victoire loves the feeling of belonging so fully to a group, a feeling of comfort that despite her settling into Hogwarts, she hasn't felt until now. But all the other first year girls don't see it that way, and the whole affair results in Victoire, Flossy, and Olivia being taken aside by two of their prefects and given a stern lecture about exclusion and bullying. They apologize, and as per the prefects' instructions, try to include others in more of their activities, but the experience has left the three girls irrevocably bonded.
"Best friends, forever and always?" Flossy, twirling her black curls around her fingers, asks the other two in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express in June, and Victoire and Olivia nod happily.
"Forever and always," Victoire grins.
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It's Grandma and Grandpa Weasley's annual summer party again, and everyone's back at the Burrow. Victoire works assiduously on her tan – after all, Flossy's on holiday in Spain for the summer and Victoire doesn't want to go back to school looking weirdly pale next to her.
Victoire is lying out on the green grass, head tilted back, letting the sun reach as much of her body as possible. Molly, who at ten years old is desperate to emulate Victoire in everything, lies next to her.
Their peace is shattered when a Quaffle from the complicated game of broomless Quidditch Victoire's younger cousins are playing lands near the girls. She cracks one eye open and of course, Lysander Scamander is jogging over to get the ball. He probably threw it over here on purpose, Victoire thinks crossly. She can think of about a million nasty things she'd like to say to the boy, but she holds her tongue. After all, she's twelve now.
"Nice legs, ladies!" Lysander calls over his shoulder as he jogs away, Quaffle in hand.
Molly blushes furiously, red spreading over her freckled cheeks, but Victoire merely scoffs. "Nice baby teeth, Scamander!" she calls back to him.
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Her first real kiss finally happens in October of her second year. Her Astronomy class has a midnight session in the Astronomy Tower, and Victoire's housemate Philip Ledeboer asks her to hang back with him after the rest of their classmates pack up their telescopes and start to descend the stairs.
"What did you want to talk to me about, Philip?" Victoire asks curiously.
After a great deal of stammering and blushing, Philip blurts, "Uh…I really like your hair!"
Victoire raises her eyebrows at this odd outburst. Before she can say anything, Philip goes on. "Would it be okay if I give you a kiss on the mouth?"
At this, she is really surprised, but of course she can't help but be flattered, too. Philip is one of the handsomest boys in her year, and Victoire's always liked his laugh. So she smiles prettily back at him and leans her face toward his. He's a little shaky and nervous, but at least it's a real, legitimate sort of kiss, one with a boy who's actually her own age, and it's under the stars at night, not in her grandparents' backyard.
When Victoire finally gets back to her dormitory, she giggles with Flossy and Olivia about how handsome Philip Ledeboer is, how romantic it is to kiss under the stars on the Astronomy Tower. She lies and tells them that the kiss was absolutely fantastic, the stuff dreams are made of. But when she goes to sleep that night, she can't help but compare her kiss with Philip to the first one, all that time ago with little Lysander Scamander. After remembering Lysander's ridiculous comments afterward, Victoire rolls her eyes at herself and promptly falls asleep.
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"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite Weasley."
Victoire feels her hands ball into fists as she steps out of the fireplace at her Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry's house. It's the winter holidays during her second year. Victoire had expected to spend a nice, predictable afternoon with a few family members – Aunt Ginny would yell at James for something or other he'd done, Lily would be a pest, Rose would beg Victoire to teach her some of the things she was learning at school. What Victoire did not expect one bit was to be greeted by Lysander Scamander, lounging against the table in her aunt's kitchen like he owned the place, that insufferable smirk pasted onto his face.
"What are you doing here, Scamander?" she sneers, sticking her nose up in the air.
"My family was invited over," he explains, "and really, Weasley, is that any way to treat a guest? I'd have thought you'd be more mature by now."
"What…but…" Victoire splutters. "Don't you talk to me about maturity! You're three years younger than I am!"
Lysander actually laughs at her. "Dad says Lorcan and I are precocious," he tells her arrogantly.
"That's just a nice way of saying aggravating," Victoire shoots back, before she escapes the kitchen and proceeds to studiously ignore Lysander for the rest of the day.
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Third year starts off excellently for Victoire. Molly is sorted into Gryffindor, and for the first few weeks is practically Victoire's shadow, following her older cousin around everywhere. After Victoire has a talk with her, though, Molly begins to make friends in her own year and stops trailing Victoire like a little lost puppy. Victoire starts studying Arithmancy, in which she quickly shoots to the top of her class. She writes home proudly to tell this to her dad, who sends her a fascinating book about treasure and ancient tombs by owl, pleased that his oldest daughter is excelling at his best subject.
Victoire is already eagerly anticipating her first Hogsmeade weekend, and this is only compounded when a Ravenclaw named Jake Carmichael asks her to go with him. They have a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Victoire has to fight to keep a straight face, since she can see Flossy and Olivia, seated at a table behind Jake's back, giggling at them the whole time, but other than that, the date goes smoothly. At the end, Jake asks her to be his girlfriend, and she accepts happily.
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She dates Jake until March, when she breaks things off with him because all he seems to care about is whether he can put his hand up her blouse, not what she's saying or thinking.
At a party that weekend in the Gryffindor common room, Victoire just wants to forget about Jake and her Charms essay due on Monday and that horrible Slytherin girl, Pippa Urquhart, who called her a bitch in the Great Hall on Thursday (Victoire, of course, subsequently called Pippa far worse things).
"Firewhiskey, girls?" a fifth year boy asks Victoire and her friends, who are seated on a couch near the wall, too intimidated to go party with the seventh years near the fireplace.
The third years giggle and look at each other, silently daring the others to take some. "All right," Olivia is the first to reply, her brown eyes daring, holding her hands out bravely for some.
The fifth year waggles his eyebrows and passes out three Firewhiskeys to the girls. "Enjoy!" he tells them with a lewd grin.
Victoire has a few sips and slowly gets used to the burning feeling in her throat and her stomach. "This is actually kind of good," she laughs to Flossy and Olivia.
"It tickles!" giggles Flossy. Olivia, for her part, has been drinking steadily and is already almost done with her cup.
Victoire raises her drink to her lips once more, but before she can drink again, she feels the cup snatched out of her hands.
"Hey!" she exclaims, looking around to see what had just happened. She finally looks up and sees an irate Teddy Lupin, Victoire's Firewhiskey in his hand.
"You're too young for this stuff," Teddy tells her, glaring.
Victoire springs up, hands on her hips. "I am not! Give it back."
"Not a chance," Teddy replies, holding the cup up in the air, far out of her grasp. "You're just a kid. It's too strong for you."
Victoire glares fiercely at him. So Teddy's too cool to hang around with her ever since she started Hogwarts, and now, when all she wants is a bit of fun, he has to swoop in and pretend to care? "I'm fourteen," she tells him calmly and pointedly. "I hardly need a babysitter."
Leaving Teddy standing there, looking rather foolish with one hand raised in the air holding a cup of Firewhiskey, Victoire breezes past him, going over to talk to some fourth years she recognizes on the other side of the room.
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One night in June, Victoire is out after curfew, coming back late from the Ravenclaw common room where she'd been studying with some of her Arithmancy classmates for their final exam later that week. She walks briskly through the corridors, eager to get back to her dormitory and get a good night's sleep before another day of revision tomorrow.
Suddenly, she hears a low voice from behind her. "You're breaking curfew, you know."
Victoire jumps into the air from surprise. She whirls around and sees the sixth year Hufflepuff prefect, Marlon Quaid, standing behind her. She gasps to catch her breath.
"Oh! Right, I know, I'm sorry," she rushes to explain. "It won't happen again. I was just coming back from a study group and –"
Marlon cuts her off with a chuckle. "Relax. I'm not going to dock points. What's your name?"
Victoire frowns, thinking he's going to give her detention or report her to Professor Longbottom, her Head of House. "Victoire Weasley, but I said I was sorry and that it wouldn't happen again –"
"Don't worry," laughs Marlon. "Victoire, I'm not going to get you into trouble. In fact, my patrol partner skipped out on me tonight, and I'm terribly bored. Maybe you'd like to keep me company?"
Uncertain, Victoire shrugs hesitantly. "Well…I suppose," she replies, because she doesn't know what she's meant to say or if this is a normal thing or what. She rarely breaks curfew, after all.
"Thanks a lot," responds Marlon, grinning down at her. He steps closer to her, and Victoire takes a step back. "What year are you, Victoire, fourth?"
She shakes her head. "No, third," she replies breathlessly, taking another step back as he advances closer, this time hitting the cold stone wall with her back.
"Third!" he echoes in surprise, shaking his head. "Now, now, Miss Weasley, didn't anyone ever tell you it's not safe to be walking the Hogwarts corridors alone at night?" She nods wordlessly. He continues, "There might not always be someone like me here to protect you."
"Thanks," Victoire tells him shakily.
Marlon smirks. "Don't mention it." He takes one more step closer to Victoire, bringing him so close they're almost touching. Victoire shrinks back against the wall. "You know, I can hardly believe I haven't seen you around before," he tells her in a low voice. "Who knew the third years looked like this these days?"
"Um," Victoire whispers, "I think I should be getting back to Gryffindor now…" she trails off as Marlon reaches up a hand to run through her hair.
"Shh," he tells her. "I can show you the best way there is to let off some steam during exams."
"No, that's all right, I really think I should –" he cuts her off by meeting her mouth with his. He's forceful and insistent, much more so than Lysander or Philip or Jake had ever been, and his arms are effectively trapping her between him and the wall, one on each side of her body. Victoire squirms underneath him, trying to push him off her, but he only laughs and seems to enjoy it more when she tries to contort her body to get free.
"Well aren't you a feisty one," he growls in her ear before sliding one hand up her skirt.
"Stop that!" Victoire cries, and he looks at her sharply.
"Now, now, we mustn't be too loud. It is after curfew, after all," Marlon tells her.
Victoire shuts her eyes and, panicking, thinks of what she can do to get away. He's got her so that she can't get to her wand, but then she remembers the advice her Aunt Ginny gave about boys. She brings her knee up and swiftly jabs him in the groin.
"Fuck!" he shouts, backing away from her quickly. "Merlin, Victoire, that was uncalled for!"
"Was it?" she responds to him darkly, anger flashing from her blue eyes. She draws out her wand and hits Marlon with a powerful Stinging Hex. "Stay away from me, or there's more where that came from," she commands, before backing away slowly, her wand still pointed on the prefect.
After that, Victoire swears off boys. First Jake, now Marlon…it seems that wizards only want one thing from her.
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At the annual summer party at the Burrow, Victoire spends most of her time talking to the adults. She's about to start fourth year, after all, and she can't spend her whole life hanging around with her little cousins. She watches the babies, Lily and Louis, for a bit (though at six years old, she supposes she'll have to stop thinking of them as the babies eventually), to make sure they don't get into trouble, but she's spent most of her summer babysitting Dominique and Louis and she's not sure how much more she can take of her unofficial nanny position.
"Honestly, Aunt Angelina, sometimes I think my parents only think of me as their live-in babysitter," Victoire complains to her aunt.
Aunt Angelina laughs. "Oh dear, I was going to see if you wanted to come over and watch Fred and Roxy sometime next week, but now I'm not so sure."
"Oh, no!" exclaims Victoire. "I didn't mean it like that. Really, I'd be happy to babysit for you – Fred's hilarious and Roxy's so sweet!" She finally manages to convince her aunt that she'd be happy to babysit, feeling bad for making her think otherwise, even though she can think of a few hundred things she'd rather do than play with her little cousins even more this summer. "And besides," she whispers to Aunt Angelina, "nothing can be worse than babysitting for the Potters."
Angelina and Victoire laugh, because it's true – the Potter household is something like a warzone, what with James' pranks and Lily's tantrums and Albus' constant arguments with his older brother.
Suddenly, as if on cue, Victoire hears shouts from the other side of the yard. She glances over, and sure enough, James and Albus are screaming at each other, their various cousins all appearing to have taken one side or the other.
Victoire rolls her blue eyes. "I'd better go see what's going on," she tells her aunt, getting up from her seat and trudging over to go play peacemaker.
But before she makes it over to the boys, Victoire sees Lysander Scamander swoop in out of nowhere and whisper something in James' ear. James forgets all about his argument with his little brother and turns to look at Lysander, eyes wide with glee. "Really?"
Lysander nods smugly. "Would I lie to you, Potter?" he questions the younger boy, gray eyes twinkling.
James lets out a whoop of delight. "Come on, Fred," he exclaims, grabbing his cousin and best friend, "Lysander's just snuck some Belching Powder into the lemonade! We've gotta see this!"
James, Fred, and Dominique lead the mass exodus of little Weasleys over to the lemonade bowl, each child eager to see their parents belching uncontrollably.
Soon, there are only a few left who didn't run over to see the effects of Lysander's prank – Molly, who wants to seem mature in Victoire's eyes; Lorcan and Rose, who are busy poring over a book that Lorcan brought along; and Lysander himself, surprisingly enough.
Victoire's hands fly to her hips of their own accord as she glares at Lysander. She's extremely gratified to see that her recent growth spurt has left her an inch or two taller than her exasperating antagonist, although he's still quite tall for an eleven-year-old. "Did you really put Belching Powder in the lemonade?" she demands of him.
Lysander just shrugs nonchalantly. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. If you want to know so badly, Weasley, why don't you go see for yourself."
His words almost convince Victoire to go over and do just as he says, but just in time, she remembers herself and stays where she is. She knows Lysander fancies himself quite the little prankster, so she would hardly put it past him, but the fact that he hasn't even gone over to see the Powder's effects make her think that he'd lied to James, perhaps to break up the fight between the Potter brothers. Victoire stares him down coolly, trying to figure out what's going through the mystifying boy's head. "I'd rather not," she responds icily.
Lysander winks at her, which makes her certain that he'd been lying about the Belching Powder. Molly, bless her heart, looks utterly confused by their exchange.
"You know," Lysander begins casually, running a hand through his dark hair, "I'll be at Hogwarts with you this year." He grins up at Victoire, looking entirely too pleased. "Finally, am I right?"
She shudders and rolls her eyes wearily. "Merlin help us all," she sighs.
He merely smirks and raises his eyebrows at her. "Save me a seat at the Welcoming Feast," he tells her cockily as he sidles past her, strutting toward the house with far too much confidence for a boy his age.
Victoire grits her teeth. For the first time in her life, she's dreading going back to school.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry for all the time devoted to the younger years, though I promise the characters age quickly in the chapters to come. I would love it if you left a review letting me know what you think!