Chapter One - Summer Breeze

At around the age of ten and eight respectively, Teddy and Victoire became glued at the hip. At least, that was the phrase Fleur adopted. "Glooed at zee hip."

This can be easily accounted for. In the experience of many children, it is always good to have someone close to your age at adult dinner parties and Sunday luncheons. Breaking the guests into generational age groups is a tactical way to stimulate conversations. Children are segregated on one side and adults on the other. Teddy was always placed on the very end of the table, as if he was the fullstop on a particularly long sentence. But this time, Victoire was sitting opposite him. She was preoccupied by her dinner. While the boring conversation unfolded out of the adult's mouths like scraps of cardboard, Teddy realised he needed an ally to survive the experience. Victoire was chosen because she was the closest to his age. It was why they were so conveniently seated together. He kicked her leg hard under the table.

"Ow!" she said, dropping her cutlery with a clank and glaring at him. "What was that for?"

"You're not meant to respond, stupid," Teddy explained.

They leaned in, forming the perfect semicolon on the end of the adult's sentence.

"What?" Victoire whispered.

"Do you wanna go out a little later?"

"What, to play?"

He rolled his eyes. "Why else, stupid?"

Only in a child's mind does this sort of conversation need to take place confidentially. The whispers seemed justifiable in that moment. Perhaps the children thought the adults would be offended that they weren't also invited to go outside and play.

"You're the stupid one," Victoire retorted, but because she gave no example to back up her reasoning, Teddy believed he had won the argument. He leaned back in his seat smugly, and returned to his steak and kidney pie with a big smirk on his face.

They had spent the rest of the evening together, in the usual active fashion of children their age. When they did talk, they talked about inconsequential things—mostly it was Teddy talking, bragging, making it out that he knew the whole world like the back of his hand. They then spent an hour chasing gnomes in the garden. This activity inevitably resulted in some bonding. Teddy had decided that Victoire was pretty cool. She was good at football, and knew how to score a decent goal. She was a capable opponent at hopscotch. She enjoyed chasing gnomes. She was surprisingly a tomboy. This had impressed him enough to extend his friendship to her.

Eventually, it dawned on Teddy that the small, blond girl had once had a crush on him. Where she had previously been shy around him, she was now blunt and critical. She wasn't afraid to give him a piece of her mind. In fact, she gave more than one piece.

"Why do you always change your hair to such silly colours?" she demanded.

Teddy ran a hand through his vibrant, violet hair. "What? You don't like it?"

"It's over the top," she said.

He was a little bit affronted. "But why shouldn't it be? I can make it look however I want."

"But still," Victoire contended. "it stands out like a sore thumb."

"What's your favourite colour?" he asked, changing the current of their conversation.

Victoire did not need time to think about her answer. Without hesitation, she said, "Pink." It was the answer most little girls would give.

Teddy screwed up his face like a piece of paper. The concentration pinched at his eyes and nose until, with a loud pop, the colour of his hair changed to a bright, bubble-gum pink. Despite her earlier reservations, Victoire was impressed. She planted her hands on her hips, trying to conceal her admiration. "You look silly."

From an early age, Teddy believed it was best to fight fire with fire.

"You used to fancy me," he accused.

"What! No I didn't!" she replied, as outraged as he expected her to be.

"Yeah, you did. You used to fancy me."

"You're—you're a liar!" It wasn't her best defence, but it was difficult to defend her dignity when her face was burning so.

Teddy enjoyed teasing her over this, pleased by how embarrassed she would get. "Can I get a kiss?" he inquired, puckering up his lips. Victoire turned away, as red in the face as a tomato.

That evening, between cloudbusting and gnome-catching, Teddy presented her with a challenge. If she could catch a gnome, Teddy would kiss it. If she couldn't, she would have to kiss Teddy.

This wager carried a weight to it that none of the other games were encumbered with. It wasn't just her skills at gnome chasing at stake, but also her honour. Kissing Teddy would be mortifying. She would prefer to die rather than let it happen. The very idea of it set her face aflame. Yet, on the other hand, the idea of Teddy kissing a gnome was very satisfying. It would wipe that smug smile off his face. Never again would he condescendingly tease her about her former crush on him. Not with the mental image of him snogging a gnome to contend with. She was confident in her own tackling skills and motivated by the thought Teddy would lose, so she took the bet.

Catching a gnome is not an easy exercise, especially for someone so inexperienced in years. The potato shaped critters ran about on stubby legs, attempting to avoid the girl who chased them. Teddy laughed uproariously from the Shell Cottage steps. Victoire paused, panting, her hands resting on her knees as she doubled over to catch her breath. She glanced up and decided to zero in on one gnome in particular. It was the one that looked the fattest, struggling to run. She squared her shoulders and made a dive for it. The tackle was good, although she ended up with a mouthful of dirt. Spitting out mud, she clenched her hands tightly around the gnome. It squealed and thrashed. She was about to hold it up victoriously when she felt a sharp, painful bite. With a shriek, she let it go, and watched it flee into its burrow.

Teddy stood over her, hands on his hips. He seemed very tall from where she knelt.

"You owe me a kiss," he said.

"No way!" she cried. "I caught it, didn't I?"

"But it escaped!" Teddy defended.

"But I still caught it," she replied. "You said catch, not capture."

"But if it escaped then how am I supposed to kiss it?"

"I dunno. But you're not kissing me."

Neither human nor gnome was kissed that day. Teddy helped Victoire up, and took the blame when Fleur got her in trouble for being so muddy.

But a legacy was left behind.

At the end of the night, the family was busy kissing cheeks and exchanging hugs. The two new friends stood awkwardly on either side of Bill Weasley's long legs. It was a sad goodbye, for a bond had truly been formed, and they were both beginning to feel quite forlorn that they may not see each other until the next adult dinner party. That could be ages away. But Bill looked down and laughed at the children. "Did you two have fun, then?"

"Yes," Victoire replied.

Teddy didn't say anything.

"Perhaps you should bring Teddy over this weekend, Harry?"

Both the children perked up.

Harry nodded. "I'll just ask Andromeda."

It was a date.


These were their golden childhood days, recalled with gusto like gems among the duller memories they made together. These were the days they explored, ran, hid, whispered, screamed and imagined. They spent every Sunday together, never missing one. It became their personal holy day, devoted to play. When they ran out of things to do, they invented games. They spent hours crashing into the surf and plunging beneath the waves, crossed-legged whilst having underwater tea parties. They found seaweed that they wore like wigs atop their heads. They spent afternoons at the beach, usually watched by Fleur, who would call out for them from the cliff-top. Shell Cottage became their anchor to reality, and they always returned before dusk.

In many ways, their friendship was unusual. Where Teddy was outgoing, Victoire was reserved. Where Teddy was a troublemaker, Victoire was responsible. Yet, they never questioned their companionship.

They became as close as any eight-year-old girl and ten-year-old boy could be.

It was the very best of days.

The following summer was much the same. They saw each other every single week, if not more often. They knew each other as deeply as two children could know each other.

When together, life was an adventure. Sometimes they hunted for peculiar seashells. Sometimes they sat outside the cottage, dangling their legs dangerously over the cliff. Sometimes they would lie on the grass, bellies up to the blue sky, eating slices of orange or nectarine. Juice dribbled down their chins. Sometimes they would find sticks in the garden and pretend to duel. They would argue about who should be the one to die. They became comfortable in that way children become comfortable, sprawling out on top of each other and undressing carelessly out of their swimming costumes into warmer clothes. Glued at the hip.

But that summer was particularly bittersweet.

It hit Victoire very hard that Teddy would be going away. As the final days of August began to flirt with the beginning of the school year, it occurred to Victoire that she would be left behind. She would lose her best friend. Teddy would be off to Hogwarts, while she was stuck at Shell Cottage. There would no longer be any adventures shared. He would find his own friends and move on. He would grow up and leave her stranded in her childhood. This plagued her incessantly.

They spent their final Sunday together, Harry dropping the blue haired boy off and promising to be back in a few hours. They ate oranges and Teddy matched his hair appropriately to the fruit. Talking a million miles an hour, he told Victoire about his new pet owl Patroclus, the new textbooks he had bought, the new school robes he had to try on. He showed off his new wand. Visions of Hogwarts swam before their eyes, but only for Teddy were they a reality. As each one of his descriptions mounted in its grandeur, Victoire began to deflate.

"What's wrong?" he eventually asked when he paused for breath.

Victoire shrugged, so Teddy persisted. He pestered her for an answer.

"Well, you're going away for school and we're not going to be friends anymore."

He stared at her in disbelief. "Of course we are! I'll write to you with Patroclus. We have all of next summer. They can't make me stay the summers too."

She smiled weakly. "You won't forget me?"

"Of course not, stupid."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

As if to prove that nothing had changed, he gave his usual farewell—"Can I get a kiss?"

Victoire threw an orange at him in response. They parted on that note, with the sound of windchimes crying in the sea breeze and the taste of salt curling their tongues.

But she was right. He did soon forget about her. And for some time, he no longer longed for her kisses.

He was sorted into Gryffindor. New friends were made. He bonded with the boys in his dormitory. He began to settle into classes. He started to become a frequent participant in afternoon detentions. The last thing on his mind was his old best friend. Teddy forgot to write and he forgot to remember. The next summer, he met with Victoire twice. Both experiences felt forced. Gone were their days of silly youth. They had been pulled together as if being pulled by a current, and pulled just as quickly apart.