Written for Kelly's Decisions, Decisions competition. I used the prompts Milk Carton Kid by Milk Carton Kids; "I just need some air"; hesitate. I just the family-pairing of GabrielleVictoire.

Of Beaches and Long Talks

Victoire dragged her suitcase up the three flights of stairs, heaving as she did so. From behind her, Tante Gabrielle chuckled, watching her struggle.

"You could help me," she accused bitterly, turning to face the older woman with scorn.

"Oh, no, it's much better watching from here," Gabrielle said, smirking. "Anyway, it's not as if I invited you to come and stay with me, and you're not my honourable guest."

Victoire gave one more heave as she finally reached the landing, and sighed with relief. Four more months and she'd be levitating the damn thing up the stairs. Seeing her effort, her aunt grabbed the handle and began wheeling it down the corridor of the third landing.

"This way," she instructed.

But Victoire knew where she was going. She had visited this place many times before – mostly as a child. There were plenty of fond memories to make her smile as she thought of the days she'd played hide-and-seek with Dominique, or had pretend wizarding duels with sticks. Of course, they'd grown up a lot since then. Hide-and-seek hadn't been played in years, and many fights had broken out between the two siblings over and over again.

She missed those days when they were just two innocent children.

"Your mother wishes for me to owl her to inform her of your safe arrival," Gabrielle said after a moment. "Or for you to owl her."

There was a moment's silence, and then Victoire said, "You're welcome to owl her."

"I'm sure she would prefer to hear from you."

"I said you can do it!" She hadn't meant to snap at her aunt – especially so early on – but being reminded of the family she had just left, so early into her stay, was not what she had hoped for. She'd come here for a break, not a reminder.

"Very well," Gabrielle answered, sensing her anger. "This time I will."

Her aunt lived in a third floor flat with her husband, Gilles, which they'd bought eleven years ago now. It overlooked a beach in Marseille, and gave an impression that those who lived there were quite wealthy.

It was beautiful, in Victoire's opinion. And it was why she was there. The beach by Shell Cottage was nothing compared to this.

They reached the flat that was at the end of the corridor, and using her wand to unlock it, Gabrielle pushed the door wide open, grinning.

"Well," she said, looking to Victoire, "Welcome to your new home."

Victoire could only smile. Yes, she would definitely like it here.

…

Dearest Fleur,

She has arrived safely, and has brought her temper and bad mood with her. However, I will care for her like I know you would. I love her, too, so don't worry. She will be fine here.

Gabrielle

"You don't need to say you'll care for me, you know. I can look after myself."

Gabrielle jumped as Victoire's voice sounded very close to her ear. She hadn't heard her niece come in, nor had she expected her to be up this late. It was well past midnight, her husband already in bed.

"It's a foreign place," she said reasonably. "Of course I'll care for you."

"This is as much my home as Shell Cottage and Hogwarts," Victoire retorted. "I know it inside out and upside down. Tomorrow I'll take a walk down to the beach, and do some shopping, and maybe even look in some of the Muggle shops."

"But I must work," Gabrielle said.

"And I must not."

"You have no money."

"I do." Victoire jabbed a finger behind her, indicating that the gold she had brought with her was safely in her room.

Gabrielle sighed. It was worse than Fleur had said.

…

"You're not from around here."

"I'm from England."

"You're French is almost perfect."

"My mother's French."

Victoire smiled at the boy down by the beach. He was a local, that much was obvious, and he'd introduced himself as Jori. She couldn't help but find the boy attractive. His attention made her feel wanted.

She liked him, and she'd only just met him.

"Come join us." He waved to his three friends.

"Okay."

This place was already beginning to feel more like home, and she'd been here less than a day.

…

They found her by the beach at eight in the evening.

"Victoire! Victoire, where are you?" It was Gilles who spotted the head full of golden hair, wet from the water. She was in the arms of another – Jori. The town's known misfit.

"Victoire!"

Her head lifted from the boy's shoulder, and her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, glaring at her aunt and uncle.

"It's eight o'clock," Gabrielle informed her. "Time to come home now."

"I like it here." She returned to the arms of the boy.

"Victoire!"

"Go away!"

"If you don't come back right now I'll write to your mother and you can go home again!"

Victoire had never heard Tante Gabrielle raise her voice before – she had always been fun, always been understanding. It wasn't like her.

"Let's go, Victoire." She turned on her heel, Gilles close behind, and Victoire had no choice but to follow her.

"See you another time," she said to her new friend.

…

"What's bothering you, Victoire?"

"Nothing's bothering me, Tante Gabrielle. I just want to be left alone. It's why I came here."

Gabrielle couldn't help but notice the sadness in her niece's eyes; the silent cry for help. She wasn't going to speak about it, but Gabrielle would find the source of the problem.

She loved the girl enough to help.

…

Jori wasn't the person she had first met. He wanted more than just her. In fact, he only wanted one thing from her.

She was so stupid to trust him.

"We've known each other for two weeks," he said, and his tone wasn't as gentle as it had first been. His eyes took her in – greedy – and his hands found her bare skin.

"No," she said, forcing him away. "Don't touch me."

She was out numbered, though. He had friends, friends who were much stronger than her. Her wand was safely locked away in her bedroom, and without it, she was weak.

"Leave me alone!" A tear trickled down her cheek, and then another. She'd never been so defenceless before, so helpless.

He grabbed her with such force that she could feel her arms bruising. "No… no, please don't," she sobbed, and it sounded so pathetic. Why had she agreed to go with him?

"I thought you liked me."

"Please don't touch me." It was her last chance, her last plead, but Jori seemed to like the crying and the begging. It made him feel powerful, and he held her tighter, much to the amusement of his friends.

She felt so weak.

…

"I just need some air."

After it had happened, she'd gone straight to Tante Gabrielle. She'd told her, and then Gabrielle had told Gilles. Now Gilles was out searching for the boy who had done this to her.

"I can come with you if –"

"No, I want to be by myself." She saw Gabrielle hesitate, saw her debate, but that little voice seemed to win out, because she nodded and then settled back into her armchair.

"Come home to eat," was all she said.

…

Victoire wandered the streets at dusk. She didn't dare speak to a soul. She'd made that mistake last time.

Shop windows were alight with all their pretty, little things, and seeing a beautiful gold bracelet in one window made her think of her little sister.

Dominique loved jewellery, she loved dressing up. She was a Weasley to the bone, yet with a personality as vane as their mother could be sometimes. Victoire was the opposite; she was a spitting image of her mother, yet her temper flared whenever she was aggravated.

A trait she had seen all too many times in her father's family.

When she returned – before it had become dark – Gabrielle had a meal on the table. It was still steaming hot, and she smiled. Gilles was beside her, and part of her wanted to know, but then another part didn't.

"He won't be coming near you again," Gilles told her before she could ask the painful question.

"Sit, Victoire," Gabrielle instructed. "Let's talk."

Talking was the last thing she felt like, but the meal was lovely, and for the first time in a long time she felt safe.

This was her home now.

…

"A letter arrived from your mother."

Gabrielle set the small piece of parchment by the window sill. Victoire heard her hesitate by the door, hoping maybe she'd read it, but she left a moment later. When she was certain her aunt had truly left Victoire opened it.

She never thought she'd miss her mother's handwriting so much.

My darling Victoire,

I don't know what to say to you. What has happened is a terrible, terrible act, and I – nor will your father – ever forgive the boy who has done this to you. However, Gabrielle tells us you are as well as you can be. I do wish you'd write to us, though. Please talk to someone, darling. It will be for the best.

All my love,

Mum

Victoire threw the letter across the room, but it didn't go far. It just settled at her feet, a constant reminder of the family she'd left behind.

She should never have left Louis. He needed her. So did Dominique.

…

"Victoire, I really think we should talk."

"Why?"

"Because I know you, and I know that this isn't you. Please, Victoire, talk to me."

"I have nothing to talk about."

"You do, I know you do."

"I have nothing I want to talk about."

"Please, Victoire."

"Go away."

"I won't –"

"Just go away!"

…

A week later and Victoire finally emerged from her room. Her hair was sprung all over the place, and she hadn't bothered changing her clothes in two days, but she stumbled out and greeted Gabrielle with a thin smile.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"Of course." Gabrielle had a morning coffee in her hands, which she set down on the table in front of her. "Let's go over here." She moved to the couch by the balcony, and indicated for Victoire to join her. "What would you like to talk about?"

"I hate my family."

"No, you don't."

"I do. They make me so angry all the time. It makes me a terrible person, doesn't it?"

"No."

Victoire buried her face inside her hands, a loud heart-wrenching sob escaping her lips. Her whole body shook as tears that had been held back for months suddenly came flowing to form a small, wet spot on her lap. Gabrielle's arm snaked across her back.

"It's okay, Victoire," she soothed. "You're okay."

"I told Dominique I hated her."

"I told your mother I hated her more than once. It doesn't mean I really did."

"I was so angry."

"We get angry sometimes."

"My mother makes me so mad."

"All mothers do."

"I wanted to leave."

"Which is why you're here with me until you wish to return home."

"I never will."

Gabrielle's arm tightened around her, and Victoire could feel her lips pressed into her hair. "I'm not sure that's true," she whispered soothingly.

…

Victoire woke some hours later with her head in Gabrielle's lap. Her aunt was running gentle fingers through her hair, and she realised she must have slept for a good few hours.

Gilles was in the kitchen with a steaming pot of something, and she suddenly felt more refreshed than she had in a long time. She looked up and Gabrielle smiled down at her.

"What happened?"

"You talked," Gabrielle said. "And it exhausted you."

"It felt good to talk," Victoire admitted. "Thanks for listening."

"Thank you for talking."

Victoire smiled.

…

Her trunk was packed, and everything was neatly folded up. Gilles helped her to carry it down the three flights of stairs.

This was her last year. Soon, she'd be free.

She wasn't leaving France, ever, nor was she returning home. This was her home now, here with Tante Gabrielle and Gilles. Her family were coming to see her off, and maybe in the holidays, she'd go to see them.

But she lived in France, and that was where she'd stay.

"We've loved having you here," Gabrielle said, wrapping her arms tightly around Victoire. "Though, if you change your mind and want to –"

"I won't."

"But if you do, we'll be okay with that." She smiled, and her kindness was one of the reasons Victoire wanted to stay in France after Hogwarts.

"If I change my mind I'll let you know," Victoire promised, just to keep her happy. "Oh, look, here's Mum and Dad."

Gabrielle turned around, and waved to where her sister and brother-in-law were coming towards them. Dominique was pushing a trolley along, beaming, and Louis simply ran to Victoire, arms around her waist before she'd realised what was happening.

Her parents said nothing, but simply looked at her, relieved to see a smile on her face.

With one simple gesture, no words were needed.

After a moment, all her mother said to her was, "Hello." A simple word, but with a lot of meaning.

It was going to be a long road ahead to repair what had been broken. They all knew that.

For the record, all dialogue was technically in French, but I can't speak anything French, so I wasn't going to butcher it by attempting.

This was really fun to write, and I'm quite happy with how it turned out. Please let me know what you think. I'd love to hear your thoughts.