"Au revoir, Maman, " Victoire leaned forward, accepting a gentle kiss on each of her damp cheeks from her beloved mother.
Thick gray smoke billowed around Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, obstructing Victoire's view of her fellow students' farewells, for which she was thankful. It would not be appropriate to play intrusive witness to such emotional exchanges. Partings from one's loved ones should be private—or, at least, as private as one could manage at a bustling train station.
"Be sure to write us, darling. Your mother will worry herself sick until you do."
Fleur jabbed her chuckling husband in the ribs with a sharp elbow. "William, please." Poor Maman. She barely managed to keep the trembling from her voice, let alone muster a reproachful tone for Papa.
Victoire simply nodded. Her father's teasing reminder at Maman's expense only caused Victoire's heart to ache all the more. Soon she would be set off on her own; no Maman to confide in, no Papa to laugh with her, no Louis or Dominique to conspire with her. Victoire never thought she would long to remain in the company of her overbearingly attentive mother or hot-tempered younger sister when the tantalizing promise of knowledge beckoned her just beyond the sliding doors of a train compartment.
"Adieu, ma chérie. Be a dilligent, obedient girl. I expect only the best from ma etoile." Fleur mopped at her watery eyes with a lacy handkerchief given to her by her own mother, Madam Delacour.
"Je promets." I promise. The vow bounced around her whirling mind, echoing back to her again and again. Victoire's stomach gave a funny little twist.
"And no boys," her father, Bill Weasley added, his tone stern. His gaze darted around the rapidly emptying platform, a look of barely restrained mistrust agitating the line of his brows.
Eyes followed Victoire and Maman whenever they travelled beyond the safety of Shell Cottage. They both understood this, of course. After all, she and Maman very obviously had Veela in their blood. People couldn't help but "Tomber amoureux"—her grand-mère DeLacour's beaming proclamation each time an admirer's gaze fell upon her eldest granddaughter. But Victoire did not care to have complete strangers "fall in love" with her. It was her face they covete, not Victoire—not the girl beneath the beauty. Her Maman swore Victoire would become accustomed to the lust-tainted glances and envious awe that seemed to trail in Victoire's wake. Maman swore that Victoire would grow to accept and even be thankful for the privileges her uniqueness afforded her. Until then, however, Victoire must resign herself to yearning for even one day where she could seamlessly fade into the background.
One particular pair of eyes hadn't moved off Victoire since she had arrived onto the platform. One pair of harsh, violet-blue eyes narrowed on Victoire with pure, unmasked animosity. Disdain-riddled jealousy marred the girl's otherwise pretty face. The faint twinge of guilt filled the pit of Victoire's belly. Envy made people do ugly thing: scowling, sneering, and hissed insults were familiar responses to Victoire's presence.
Victoire fluttered her fingers uncertainly in the girl's direction. The other girl simply spun away, her nose thrust in the air as she sauntered up the platform and away from the clump of jabbering Weasleys.
" Vic." A familiar, jovial voice drew her back into the present. Lanky and curly-haired, the boy stared down at Victoire, his brown eyes bright with curiosity.
"Bonjour, Sebastian, êtes-vous prêt?" Victoire bit her lip. She needed a distraction.
His brows creased in exasperation. "Again with the French, Vic? You know I've only managed a few basic phrases: J'ai perdu mon pantalon and Teddy est mon maîtreand—that's it."
Now it was Victoire's turn to crease her brows. "I lost my pants," She translated the first phrase, only just holding back her laughter.
Sebastian nodded seriously. "Yes, indeed. I don't think your mother has looked me in the eye since she heard me say that last summer."
"Honestly, Baz, I am more concerned about the second bit—'Teddy is my master'?" She raised her eyes to peer at him. "You two are incorrigible."
"I lost a bet," his shrug was all good-natured resignation, and very 'Baz' of him. He tended to shrug off most things.
"What sort of bet?"
"Our friend Edward Lupin thought he could pull one over on me."
Oh no."
"Oh, yes," Sebastian grimaced. "A prank war. The loon challenged me—me!—to a prank war." He threw up his hands.
"And he won?" Victoire said hesitantly.
"Obviously." His scowl deepened comically. In a girlishly sweet, obscenely exaggerated french accent, Sebastian intoned "Teddy est mon maîtreand."
Victoire couldn't help it, she really couldn't. A burbling giggle sprang free from her, tickling the ears of all in her vicinity. Delighted gazes snapped to her, drinking in the amusement of the unearthly Veela girl.
Victoire's laugh broke off even as it began, her pale blue eyes cast downward much like Sebastian's. Victoire the Veela was all she would ever be. Maman was contented with her fate—so, why couldn't Victoire be as well?
"The train is nearly full, ma belle fille." Fleur Weasley turned back to her eldest daughter, smiling sadly as their eyes met; palest blue found palest blue, her mother's eyes the mirror of her own.
"We love you, darling," Papa's encouraging pat atop Victoire's head soothed her some—but it did nothing to quell her dissatisfaction with the burden of otherness she'd been resigned to endure. "Up you go," Bill Weasley offered his eldeat daughter an arm.
Victoire mounted the train's small, steep stairway. "Je t'aime, Maman et Papa. I always will." Her parents loved her unconditionally. They'd love her always—even if she were hideous, talentless, and morally bankrupt. Victoire cherished them both—as she did the rest of her family.
Sebastian clambered onto the train behind Victoire as her father and uncles lifted her baggage in behind them. Fleur gazed on silently, not breaking eye contact with her etoile—her star,. Her darling Victoire.
"Come on, Vic, let's find a seat, eh?" Sebastian nudged her forward. "I bet old Teddy's already hunkered down somewhere without us."
"Right," Victoire strode ahead, attempting to emit a calm sort of confidence. She must make her Maman proud. Her gaze trained slightly above eye level, Victoire travelled along the congested corridor, glancing into each compartment in search of—and there he was, as if she had conjured him with her thoughts.
A shock of brilliant turquoise shone in the dim light. Teddy Lupin, his shirt rumpled and his hands rucked into his pockets, leaned into an open train compartment.
"Oi, Vic," he called, "over here."
"Bonjour, Teddy." Silvery blonde hair swept over her shoulder as Victoire darted to Teddy's side.
"Need a place to sit?" Teddy glanced over her shoulder, offering his best friend a smirk. "And I see you found a stray."
Sebastian grumbled something about a beater's bat and Teddy's skull, but Victoire hastily cut him off. "Absolument," she beamed.
Teddy ducked back into the compartment, ushering her and Sebastian inside.
Violet-blue eyes and an ever-present frown greeted her.
Victoire winced.
"Who are you?" The other girl demanded coldly, her lip curling. The girl's limber body sprawled languidly across one of the two rows of seats. Across from her sat a younger girl who, though similar in appearance, lacked the cruel lines of arrogance inherent in her older counterpart's aristocratic features.
"This is Victoire Weasley," Teddy announced as he stepped in behind her, Sebastian close on his heels. "And you already know Baz," he quipped cheekily. "Her uncle Harry—my Godfather—helped Gran raise me. You met Harry last summer, remember?well, Vic's family just like Harry's family." The vehemence in his declaration warmed Victoire from her head to her toes.
"Vic,, this vision of radiant joy is Rowen Morgan." Teddy shoved the still-sneering girl's legs from the seats and sat. "Evangeline," he continued, gesturing to the silent girl who hunched in the window seat across from Rowen, facing the window, "is her younger sister. She's a first-year, too."
Evangeline gave a timid wave, "Hello."
"Bonjour, Evangeline," Victoire offered the bashful girl a small smile. Her heart was still pounding. Teddy had claimed her as family.
"Bonjour?" Rowen snorted. "Go back to Beauxbatons, madam. Teddy," she turned her pleading pout on him, "Can't they find another compartment? I don't want to be seen assosiating with first-years."
Teddy squared his broad shoulders. "Ro, I-"
"It's Rowen," snapped Rowen. "You know I hate it when I'm called by anything but my name."
"Fine," he sighed, placating her. "Rowen, they are staying here. If you want to leave, that's your choice. I won't turn them out. Don't you remember how nervous you were before your first time traveling on the Hogwarts Express?"
Rowen's "Hurrumph," of indignation greatly pleased Victoire in a manner which seemed simultaneously satisfying and shameful. On one hand, Rowen was being rude; she did not deserve to have her way. Then again, if Victoire gleaned satisfaction from the other girl's discomfort, was Victoire any better than Rowen?
"You can sit," Teddy said, leaning back in his own seat.
She took the seat across from him. In her seat across from Evangeline, Rowen pinned Victoire with a haughty glare. The promise of retribution was not lost on Victoire.
Plunking down beside Victoire in the aisle seat, Sebastian glanced lazily between Rowen and Teddy. "Great start we've had, eh?"
"Yes," she agreed, running her palms down the skirt of her white eyelet dress in an attempt to smooth out any creases. "Grand."
Just as she spoke, the train lurched into motion. Victoire's spirits plummeted more the farther she travelled from her home, her family, and everything she had ever known. Now, her fate laid in the fragile hands of a tattered, black conical hat.
Grand, indeed.
Author's Note:
Greetings, friends!
I hope you enjoyed this little snippet in Victoire's life.
First days are always nerve-wracking, especially if you're as...well, noticeable as Victoire. I can say from personal experience that standing out in a crowd isn't all it's cracked up to be, folks.
Please don't forget to review and favorite if you like what you read. It really helps me out. Your comments motivate me to keep going—it is sad, but true.
If you're read my other stories in this fandom, you'll recognize Rowen and Evangeline. If you haven't yet read Wand-Wise, please check it out if you find the time. It follows the next generation as they are matched with their wands.
And that's it for now!
Thank you for supporting me by reading.
Love, Luna.
