VICTOIRE
2 May 2000

Outside Shell Cottage the water lapped gently along the shoreline. The rhythmic waves crashing delicately against the soft sand added to the comfort of the cramped cottage. Inside Gabrielle swept up in the living room while Apoline stirred a pot of fishy stew, a dish Fleur had been craving daily. Gabrielle gagged at the thought but the soon-to-be-grandmother was happy to cook anything, especially something filled with nutrients.

Upstairs Fleur busied herself in the nursery trying to prepare for the baby, not that there was much left to do. She was due to give birth any day and the only thing missing in the nursery now was a newborn baby. For nearly a week she had waited for the hint of any sign the baby was ready to meet the world but was constantly met with disappointment when the midwife announced it wasn't quite time. The waiting game was driving her crazy and Bill's grueling work schedule meant she spent most days alone walking along the shoreline while her mother and sister did their best to pass the time indoors and away from her constant mood swings.

When she had finally exhausted of arranging and rearranging the linens in the nursery, she sat down in a rocking chair and propped her feet up on the ottoman. She rested a hand on her outstretched belly and waited for her little girl to kick but instead was met with a growling stomach. With a bit of trouble she finally stood up and followed the aroma of her mother's cooking down toward the kitchen.

"Comment allez-vous?" Apoline asked her.

Fleur replied that she was feeling okay but hungry. Her mother prepared their lunch while Gabrielle set the table, trying not to scowl at the scent of boiled fish. Fleur's eyes drifted toward the shoreline as they ate in silence. She had nearly finished her bowl when she felt an unfamiliar lurch in her stomach.

"La bébé?" her mother exclaimed.

"Is it time?" Gabrielle asked in a thick French accent.

Fleur was in so much pain she could hardly speak. She only nodded and her mother ran to boil water and retrieve warm rags.

"Bill!" Gabrielle shouted.

"Godric's Hollow," Fleur breathed.

Gabrielle nodded and in an instant she was gone. When she landed back on solid ground, she found herself at the steps of St. Clementine's. Inside she heard the rumblings of a late morning service. Just beside the church she recognized the small graveyard where she had once accompanied her sister. It was busy today, the anniversary of the many deaths at the Battle of Hogwarts. Dozens of families trying their best to dress as Muggles milled about the small cemetery. One family in particular caught her attention and she made her way to the sea of red hair that stood opposite Fred's grave.

"Gabrielle?" Harry Potter was the first to notice her. "What are you doing here?"

"Harry," her cheeks flushed. "I'm looking for Bill. Fleur's having the baby."

"He's right over there," Harry pointed to the man with the red ponytail trying to comfort his mother.

"Thank you," she smiled as she ran in that direction.

Harry waved but she was already spurting across the cemetery, as quickly as she could.

"What was that about?" Ginny ask, sliding an arm around Harry's waist.

"Fleur's having the baby," he explained to her.

"I'm an aunt!" Ginny gushed.

"Should we go with him?" Harry asked. "To St. Mungo's?"

"No," Ginny shook her head. "She's having the baby at Shell Cottage. French tradition, her family is bringing in the healer that delivered her and Gabrielle. Mum was furious when she first heard."

"Hear that?" George had sauntered over. "I'm going to be an uncle, probably even tonight."

"Hey," Ginny squeezed his hand. "How about a drink before we meet the little princess?"

"Yes," George nodded.

On his cue, Ginny linked arms with both of them and with a pop they were standing in the middle of Hogsmeade, the only place where snow still fell even in the early weeks of May. They made their way into the Three Broomsticks and found an empty table before Madam Rosmerta came by to take their drink order.

Ginny interlaced her fingers with Harry's as they waited for their drinks to arrive. A scowl crossed George's face while he looked on. He wasn't concerned about Harry's intentions. He played the part of the protective older brother but he knew Harry was good for Ginny. No, his uneasiness stemmed from the solace he felt on the anniversary of his twin's death. He thought about the one person in the world he wished was with him, aside from Fred.

He would be lying to himself if he said he hadn't hoped she would be at Fred's grave today but Ginny stifled that hope when she informed him that Angelina was spending the day with her father.

"Should we have told Ron we were coming here?" Ginny mused aloud, putting an end to George's daydream.

"He'll be fine," George scoffed. "Mum could use some company around Fleur's lot."

"They're family now," Ginny reminded him.

"Don't get me wrong," he assured her, "I like spending the holidays with the Veela, but I don't care for the power struggle between Mum and Apoline."

"Speaking of," Harry interrupted, "shouldn't we get to Shell Cottage soon?"

"We can finish our drinks," George replied. "The little tyke will still be there. I don't think they learn how to crawl away for at least a couple of years."

The three of them laughed and finished off their mugs of Butterbeer. When they were done, they left a few sickles on the table and Apparated to the cottage at the edge of the sea. From the top of the hill, Harry could see the makeshift grave where they had buried Dobby. For the last two years, a melancholy tone hung heavy on this date, but now with the birth of Bill's first child, they finally had a good omen, a sign to move forward with their lives and turn toward hope and happiness.

Inside the cottage, Fleur was propped up against a mountain of pillows. Her newborn daughter was cradled in her arms as they were surrounded by their closest family members. Bill sat at the edge of her bed, his mouth open wide in awe.

"She's beautiful," he breathed.

"I was thinking," Fleur smiled, "we shouldn't call her Jacqueline."

"Yeah?" Bill raised an eyebrow. "What do you have instead?"

"Victoire," Fleur explained. "It means victory in French."

"I like it," he replied. "We'll have to call her Vic for short because my family will never pronounce it right, but Victoire it is."

Fleur laughed. Their daughter wasn't just the beginning of a new life for her and Bill, she was also a symbol for the entire Wizarding community that their efforts at the Battle of Hogwarts were not in vain. She was a prodigy, destined to step into the shoes of her fallen uncle, and many others like him; Victoire was the sign they had all been waiting for.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Like I said, there is plenty of Angelina & George headed your way. In particular, my favorite chapter to write is coming up next so stay tuned.