A/N: I changed some details in Birthday Surprises, near the end of the chapter. At first, I wanted Teddy and Victoire's first meeting to be when she was old enough to feel lightheaded and fluttery, but I decided it probably didn't make any sense, so I changed it, and I think it's better this way.

As the pressure of Teddy's lips on her own overwhelmed her, a series of memories crashed over Victoire like a tidal wave. The pictures were vivid and bright, happy memories that she stored in her brain for times like these.

She remembered being three years old, and her and Teddy arguing with Fleur one Sunday lunch at the Weasley's because they were too old for naps.

There was the time she was six and Teddy had convinced her to stick her arm down a gnome hole, only to have one of the little creatures chomp down on her hand. The gnome left a sizeable scar that could still be seen to this day.

Once, when she was nine, they had both clambered onto a toy broomstick and were only a few feet in the air when James grabbing onto the tail knocked them off. All of them landed in a heap, with Teddy and Victoire standing up quickly and blushing.

Then, when she was 13, he had asked her to dance at Granddad and Gran's 50th wedding anniversary party. Teddy had whirled her around the floor like a mop, and tread on her toes quite a few times.

Of course, Victoire had had boyfriends before. Teddy had had a few girlfriends, in turn. But she had always harbored a soft spot for him; she knew that. Maybe because she had known him for so long, or because he was two years older, she never thought he would look at her the way she looked at him.

They finally broke apart. A smile appeared on his heart-shaped face as he took in the shocked expression on Victoire's.

"Are you really that surprised?" he asked her, chuckling quietly.

"Of course I am! What does this mean?" she asked, utterly bemused and quizzical.

"It means I've loved you for just about my whole life, only now you're old enough that your dad might consider letting me live," Teddy laughed, drawing her close and kissing her lightly. A few tears slid down Victoire's striking face, and he wiped them away with his fingers. They broke apart.

"Oh, mon cheri, je t'aime. Je t'adore," she breathed, their faces inches apart. He laughed quietly.

"I have no idea what you just said, but whatever it is, me too."


The next day, Victoire arrived at the Gryffindor table in high spirits. She cheerily bid Patch and Allie good morning, and sat down to slather marmalade over some toast. Both of her friends eyed her suspiciously.

"I heard you come up to bed late last night. What was it, nearly midnight?" asked Allie, grabbing the knife and marmalade from her friend. Victoire scoffed and bit into her half-covered toast. She chewed quietly, pointedly ignoring the girl on the other side of the table. Allie let out a cry of exasperation, and snatched away the toast as well.

"Hey!" cried Victoire, grabbing the air where the toast had just been, while Allie held it tantalizingly a few feet away. "Give it here, I'm hungry!" she whined.

"Not until you tell me vhat I vant to know," she said, in a mock German accent. Allie leaned in close to her friend, a smile playing about her cheery face. " Were you, or were you not late coming to bed last night because you were in the common room snogging Teddy Lupin?!?!?" Allie asked dramatically.

Unfortunately, she chose the wrong moment to pose this hinging question, as Molly, Fred, and Lucy had just sat down.

All was silent for a moment.

Then everyone started talking at once.

"You snogged Teddy?!?!?!" Molly asked, incredulously.

"Caught on finally, have you?" Fred said, elbowing Victoire and waggling his eyebrows.

"Wow!" breathed Lucy.

Victoire turned Weasley scarlet and cast a glare that was so Fleur and so Mrs. Weasley that Allie actually cowered before her best friend.

"Had to go shouting all over the place, did you?" Victoire growled, most unlike her usual posh and collected self. "What if we weren't ready to blab to the whole family yet?"

Allie opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, the post owls swooped overhead, and a huge tawny owl floated down in front of Patch.

"Ah, mail's here," he said lightly, the first words he had spoken all morning. He untied the copy of The Daily Prophet from the owl's leg, dropped a Galleon in the pouch on its leg, and shook open the paper as the tawny flew away. As he began to read, Victoire's angry eyes fell on the back page of the paper, the sport's section. Depicted in moving black and white was a magnificent Aethonan stallion, like Rouge, but taller and much better defined. The striking horse had a blanket of racing flowers draped over his withers, just in front of his wings. At his shoulder was a small wizard with goggles and a riding helmet, grinning and showing off an imposing silver cup. The article was headlined "Cresswell and 'Snitch' take Fletwock Cup."

"Can I see the back page, Patcheen?" Victoire asked, all anger forgotten. Patch, who was immersed in the paper, nodded absent-mindedly and passed it over the table to her. At once, Victoire submerged herself in the story over the continued titters from her cousins.

George Cresswell, 23, is one of the youngest jockeys in the magical racing circuit to date. But it was he who raced Golden Snitch over the finish line at Maeve Park to win the Fletwock Cup this past Saturday. The Cup, named so for celebrated racer and breeder of flying horses, Laurentia Fletwock, 57, has been held for the past 15 years. It serves as the Quidditch World Cup for racing, and jockeys and mounts from all over the wizarding world attend for a 10-mile sprint around the track in Dublin. Although Snitch and Cresswell placed well in the preliminaries, they were going up against terrific odds and were not the favorite to win.

"I was not surprised to cross first," says Cresswell, as he was interviewed in the winner's circle. "Snitch is a good steed and gave his all in the last few furlongs. I'm really proud of him."

As for next year, this reporter thinks it's safe to say that this is anyone's race.

Victoire sat back on the bench after she finished reading. For the second time in less than 12 hours, she felt as though she had been whacked over the head with a broomstick.