May 2nd, 2000
The Burrow, Devon, England
"Mum, can I talk to you?" Bill Weasley was a slightly mangled looking man. He was tall, and gruff, and scared. He held his daughter, Victoire, in his arms. She was one year old today, and the most perfect thing he had ever seen.
His wife named her for her friend Viktor, whom she had lost a bet to about whether or not she would marry a Weasley. Of course, when she made the bet, she had only met Ronald, and Fred and George. At the time, Fred and Ronald were both head over heels for Hermione Granger, and George had nothing on his mind but cheering up the rest of the world.
Yet, all three of them had only taken their orange-haired heads out of their arses long enough to notice she was pretty, make assumptions about her that were hilariously inaccurate, and then try to hump her leg like one of her grand-mere's lap dogs.
When she met Bill Weasley, she assumed he would follow that pattern. He didn't, which was a pleasant surprise. He noticed she had trouble with the administration at Gringotts, despite her qualifications and obvious curse breaking talents.
He figured it was the language barrier, so he offered to teach her. It wasn't until two months in that he realized she was being passed over for case after case because no one thought a girl, especially one who was so pretty, could handle anything.
So one day he asked for help on a case. It took her all of three hours to feel out the curse on an ancient text he had been trying to access for roughly nine months, and subsequently break it. After going to his boss and demanding justice, he pushed her against a wall and kissed her because he wasn't sure how else to express his gratitude.
She kissed him back because no one else had taken the time to ask for anything other than sex from her since she had left France a year and a half prior.
Now, four years down the road and with a baby, the two of them were moving away from London. They were moving to India, because there was ancient magic there to study, and they had come to the conclusion that English dark magic was repetitive and getting boring. Now they just had to explain this to Bill's family.
Molly Weasley, a sucker for babies, said "Of course, dear. What can I do for you?"
"Well, mum, Fleur and I were approached by a consulate of the Indian ministry of magic." Molly knew where this was going. Her two oldest sons were never able to stay around for long, and she understood that. Hell, she lived that life in her twenties, running away to get married, fighting in a war her parents didn't understand. She would miss Bill, even Fleur a little bit, but most of all their darling daughter, Victoire.
Victoire was the second oldest of a new batch of children. Only Teddy was ahead of her, and Molly really had a sweet spot for girls. She always had wanted a daughter, and it wasn't until her seventh was born that she got her wish.
But now, her precious Victoire was going to leave.
She placed a hand on Bill's, knowing that she would have no right to guilt him out of it, even if she did want to see her granddaughter more often.
"I understand, dear. Take good care of her, alright?"
"Yes, ma'am." Bill responded, somber. His mother's directions were to be taken almost as carefully as his wife's. "One other bit of news, though. This time next year there'll be another baby for you to coddle."
Molly's grin almost lept off of her face, and she let salty tears run unabashed. She had lost too much to care if someone saw her crying. She gently scooped Victoire out of Bill's arms, and said "Let's go congratulate your wife, then, shall we?"
