Today was her eighth birthday. She had gone down into the living room in her pajamas, only to be surprised when a chorus of Happy Birthday sung in French had broken out. Her eyes widened as she scanned the living room. which looked wonderfully festive. It seemed like everyone she knew was here. Her parents, her grandparents, Fleur, all her neighborhood friends. Even her Grandpere, whose wife had recently died, was sitting on a sofa, smiling cheerfully at her. Many of the children were wearing party hats and screaming as they ran across the living room. There were balloons that said "Happy 8th birthday Gabrielle" and pink paper streamers that hung from the walls. There were also pretty flowers that had been placed in vases. And toy animals everywhere. Her favorite things in the whole wide world. Bowls of chocolates and candy had been placed on the tables. They looked so tasty that she felt an urge to run over to them, scoop them all up in her arms, and spend all day eating them in her room. She looked at them, then down at herself. The mirror in the living room above the sofa told her that her hair was frazzled. And worst of all, she was in her pajamas. She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment.
"Happy Birthday, Gabbi!", cried her mother, spreading her arms out for a hug. The rest of the people clapped and whooped vigorously. She suddenly felt shy.
She smiled at the people assembled in the living room sheepishly, then suddenly mumbled "I gotta go change." She ran up the stairs to her bedroom, intent on wearing the pink dress her father had given her two months . This was her birthday. There would be more surprises later, including a large chocolate cake topped with everything from marshmallows to strawberries to fruit loops. And later, after they were full, she and her friends have a chance to go to the park to play games until they were tired and their clothes were dirty. But for now, she had to look good.
Apolline Delacour smiled at the people who had assembled in her living. "Well, everyone, make yourselves at home. If you'll excuse me, I will go help my daughter get ready for her eighth birthday."
So, who wants to be Snow White? asked the teacher. There was a collective scream of "ME!" as several girls in her class raised their hands excitedly. Today was the day for choosing who would play the role of the princess in the Muggle Fairytale. It was a Beauxbatons tradition to have a school play done by the first years for the parents. This year, they had chosen the Muggle story Snow White. It was a Muggle story about a princess who makes friends with dwarves and falls in love with a handsome prince while running from a stepmother who was jealous of her beauty.
She was having a hard time deciding whether she wanted to raise her hand. Was it better to play the princess, or the fairies? Surely it was better to play the princess, because she got the most screen time. But from what she had heard about the story, the princess spent a good deal of the play asleep. It would not be much fun to pretend to be asleep for most of the play. Maybe it was better to play the fairies.
"Ah I see several hands raised! Let's give them a hand!" said the teacher to applause from the students. "So we have Bella, Frances, Victoire, Marion, Stella. Erza, you want play Snow White too? Wonderful, wonderful. What about you Gabrielle? Don't you want to play the role of Snow White?
She looked around at the room. The class had gone strangely quiet, which was rare. Every face had turned to her, paying rapt attention. She suddenly felt as if the choice had gotten even harder. Did she want to play the princess? It was a Beauxbatons tradition, and her whole family would very likely get to watch it. The thought made her nervous, and yet somehow thrilled her. They would get to watch her play a princess. But could she pull it off?
As she was pondering the question, a vision of her father calling her "princess" entered her mind. She suddenly felt a fierce determination enter her. Yes, her father had called her that. She was a princess. Who else could play it better than her?
She raised her hand.
"Ah so Gabrielle wants to play Snow White too! Give her a hand, children!" There was loud applause from the class.
"Okay children, now you will decide amongst yourselves who gets to play the role of Snow White! Is that okay?" said the teacher.
"Yes teacher" a chorus of voices said in reply.
"So who votes for Bella to play the role of Snow white?"
Not a single hand was raised. Bella's eyes were filled with tears.
"How about Frances?"
Still no one raised their hand. Frances, who had been excitedly looking at the class, curled her lips into a pout, folded her arms and refused to look at the class.
"Okay class. Who wants Victoire to play Snow White?" asked the teacher, who was looking visibly miffed at the fact that she would have several crying girls on her hands once class was over.
The same result followed. Victoire's expectant face fell comically.
The teacher, who was looking increasingly worried at the downtrodden faces of the girls who had not garnered a single vote, decided to take action.
"Okay then children. So it seems that this class has a candidate in mind. So tell me, who do you guys want to see play the role of Snow White?"
Louis, a blonde curly haired boy who was the most talkative in the class, piped up.
"Gabrielle!". A murmur of unanimous agreement accompanied his declaration.
"Well, it looks like we have a winner! cried the teacher. "Gabrielle will play Snow White in the school play! Let's give her a round of applause!" There was loud disorganized clapping that came from the class. Several boys whooped and banged their desks.
Gabrielle, who had not said a word up until then, merely smiled. Of course I won. she thought privately. I am a princess. Papa said so.
The bile tasted sour in her mouth as she looked in the mirror. Her body began to tremble, and hot tears began to flow as an unfamiliar feeling began to overcome her. She continued staring at the reflection in the mirror. What was that expression on her face? Her eyes were puffy, and soon she was shaking uncontrollably. A flurry of emotions threatened to overcome her. It felt like she wanted to burst. She stared back at the girl in the mirror. The reflection's had eyes that were red from crying; its small hands were balling into fists. Why was the person in the mirror staring back at her with an expression of pure disgust? The fists curled, and suddenly pain coursed through her knuckles as the reflection threw a feeble awkward punch at her. She had never thrown a punch before in her life. It hurt so badly. She continued to slam her fist onto the mirror as the tears flowed.
She tried to replay what had just happened in her head. The image of the strange smile on his face, and the feeling of his hands touching her, he had was all engraved into her mind. She would never be able to forget it, no matter how hard she tried. The feeling of fear, raw fear, even though she alone. And confusion. She was confused even though she remembered what had just happened perfectly well. Why had her uncle done that to her? The images flashed in her head vividly, making the bile rise in her throat again. Helpless. That has how she had felt. Helpless. She shook her head and tried furiously to rid her mind of them, to go to a place where she could not think, could not feel.
"Papa, I got the role!", squealed Gabrielle excitedly. She ran to her father, who was sitting in the living room, and embraced him.
"Role of what, Gabbi?" said the pot-bellied Monsieur Delacour. He smiled at his daughter widely, and embraced her back.
"The princess! Snow White! For the school play!" she screamed, a little too loudly. Her father smiled and put up a finger to his mouth, and she quieted down, embarrassed.
"That's wonderful, my princess! I knew you could do it! Papa is so proud of you! I'll tell your mother later when she gets home! When is this play? Will it be at your school?"
"Yes papa. We will be using magic for the props! Oh I'm so excited!"
"Not more excited than your father, my princess!. I'll tell Apolline when she gets home! Your mama and papa will be there to watch you! You can count on it sweetheart!".
"Thank you papa!". She was giddy with excitement. She was going to be a star. A big bright star, bright as the sun. And so many people would be there, clapping for her.
"Now who is the lucky boy that gets to play the prince?" asked Monsieur Delacour.
"Charles got the role papa. Oh you should have seen the voting. It was terrible. The boys were all crying afterwards."
"Crying? Why were they crying?"
"All of them wanted the role so bad you see. They started fighting. Louis, and Francois and Charles and all the others. Charles got the role because he cried the loudest. The teacher was crying afterwards as well. Boys are really strange aren't they papa?"
She was surprised when her father started laughing heartily. It was a loud infectious laugh, and it made her laugh as well. What had she said that was so funny?
"That's my princess! They all wanted to play the prince didn't they? This is what I get for having such a pretty daughter. Barely out of her diapers and boys are fighting over her already!
"EEW! I don't like boys papa! They're dirty and weird! "
"Even your dear papa my princess? Is papa dirty and weird too?"
"Ahm... no" Gabrielle replied sheepishly.
Her father laughed again, while patting her head fondly. Then he lowered his head so that his face was level with hers, and gently spoke.
"Don't let them worry you my dear princess. The price of being beautiful is that people will fight over you. You just focus on your role."
Gabrielle wondered what her father meant. Fight over her? She didn't like fighting.
"Will they hurt me papa? " she asked. "
Her father's face suddenly grew serious. But when he spoke, it was with the same gentle, warm voice.
"Of course not Gabrielle. No one would ever dare to hurt you."
In the days after the incident, there were times when she wondered, was it her fault that he had acted that way?
Was it because of her veela allure, that he had that strange look in his eyes? After all, she had never heard of him acting that way around anybody else. He was considered by her family to be an upright man, of good moral stature. He had no record of behaving indecently around anyone else. Was there something about her, which drove him to such madness? What else could it be, but the effects of her being a veela? Hadn't Fleur told her about this several times? But why hadn't this sort of thing happened to Fleur before? Or even their mother?
"You're such a pretty little thing, especially for a twelve year old. I can't stop thinking about you". Hadn't he said that?
Maybe her allure was different. Maybe she was different. Instead of making men want to be on their best behavior, maybe her powers made men expose the darkness that festered in their hearts.
The thought of it hit her like a punch in her gut. She walked over to the mirror in her room. She stared into her own blue eyes, as they began filling with tears like they so often did lately.
The summer she turned twelve. It had been an evil summer.
"He.. He's dead. Papa. He's dead". Fleur was crying, inconsolable. Her eyes were red, and she was trembling. The grief was palpable; it was almost as if she could feel the sadness radiating from her sister.
"Dead. But.. but how?". She did not, would not believe it. It couldn't be. He was so young. He could not have gone. There were still so many things she wanted to tell him. He could not be dead.
"It... it's not true. It can't be... Fleur, tell me its not true".
It couldn't be true. But why did the look on her sister's face tell her otherwise?
Cold, harsh reality came crashing down on her. Fleur couldn't be lying. Their father was dead.
"It... they said it was during a raid. They got into a fight with some criminals trafficking illegal magic artifacts. They died during the fight. He was with uncle. Uncle Jean died in the fight too. Oh Gabbi!" cried Fleur as she hugged Gabrielle tighter.
Grief, so painful as to almost be unbearable. The pain was real, so real that she felt it in her bones. She wanted the world to stop spinning.
Was this really happening?
Today was her eighth birthday.
"Say hello to all your relatives Gabbi!" said Apolline Delacour in her musical voice. Gabrielle found herself shyly saying hello to what seemed like a never ending list of people, all of whom shook her hand or gave her a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the head.
Did she really have so many relatives?
Suddenly, a low, masculine voice spoke.
"You have a beautiful daughter, Apolline."
She looked up and saw a tall, middle aged blonde man smiling at her. He was holding a cup of coffee, and he waved at her as she looked at him.
"Thank you Jean." replied her mother. "Gabrielle, say hello to your uncle Jean."
Gabrielle smiled shyly and said "Hello, Uncle Jean. its nice to meet you."
The tall man smiled warmly back at her. "Hello Gabrielle. Nice to meet you too"
He turned to her mother, then still smiling, said "She looks just like you."