Chapter 3

Victoria drew her shawl tighter around her body, and stared at the night sky. A single tear ran down her face. She hated being at her parents' house, hated everything about it. And tonight was no exception. Without Juliana around to laugh with, the party was stifling. Which was why she stepped outside for a breath of air.

If she thought that she could truly escape her life, she would gladly pick up her feet and run wherever they took her. And never look back. She'd go to Paris, New York, Milan – anywhere but here. Maybe California. She sighed and daydreamed about disappearing without a trace, to finally be free. But, she couldn't leave her friend, so she shoved those thoughts out of her mind.

"Alone?" a voice inquired. She frowned.

"Obviously."

To her disgust, Stephen took her answer as an invitation to sit down beside her on the narrow bench. "How's Juliana?"

"Ready to have the baby." Victoria smiled. "She's not exactly known for her patience."

"Oh?" He was shocked that she was actually speaking to him like he was a human being.

"Yeah, it's funny. Every half hour or so she tells the baby that any time he wants to make his grand entrance is fine by her. I wish she was here," she said sadly.

"I take it that you want to be here just as much as I do," Stephen said carefully, knowing his statement was risky. Victoria's head whipped around.

"You don't--"

"Come on. What kind of boring bloke do you take me for? Never mind, don't answer that," he said, seeing the look on her face. "Why do you think that I used to put chocolate frogs down your dress when we were little?"

"That was you?" she squealed. An evil glint appeared in his eyes.

"And that taffy that turned your teeth purple – that was me."

"No," she said disbelievingly in a hushed voice.

"Oh, and the quill that exploded in your face during the O.W.L. tests, the school robes with the itching powder, the Astronomy book that squirted water in your face every time you turned to page 142, the right lock on your trunk that never would quite close right, and that mysterious Christmas card sixth year, for starters."

"For starters? You cowardly prat, not owning up to any of your pranks so that I could get you back properly. What did you do, stand back and laugh at me?" she huffed.

"Yup. What can I say? You're an easy mark; very temperamental."

Victoria pushed him off the bench and onto the ground. "I am not."

"Right," he laughed, standing up and brushing off his robes. "I'm going to get a drink. Would you like something while I'm at it?"

"I don't know if I should trust you," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"No pranks. Wizard promise."

"Fine, but if you're lying to me, paybacks are hell, Stephen Potter," she warned.

"I've noticed."

He frowned as he turned towards the house, thinking of how his workload had more than doubled after the police incident. But, there was something about Victoria that magnetically attracted him to her, ever since they were little, really. He remembered going to parties back then, and how pretty she always looked, like a princess.

Which is why she was the sole object of his pranks – he wanted her to notice him. But, she was always too busy with her art to pay him any mind. If she knew that he was the one who tossed all of her art supplies into the lake and fed them into the giant squid fourth year, she would probably kill him.

Or that he felt guilty a week later and spent every cent of his allowance money for the entire term to buy her replacement supplies. He didn't have a clue what to buy, so he went into the store and asked for one of everything. The box barely fit underneath his Invisibility Cloak when he snuck into Gryffindor Tower and hauled it to her dorm room.

Whatever he bought, it was what she needed, because she went on for weeks how her new things were even better than the old ones, especially the brushes. But, she would've tossed everything in the trash in a heartbeat if she knew that Stephen gave her the supplies.

He was actually a little surprised that she was still sitting at the bench when he returned, drinks in hand. She even gave him a little smile as she took her drink from his hand. Stephen nervously ran a hand through his hair before sitting down.

"So," his mind searched for something to say, "how's your latest exhibit doing?"

"Really well, actually. I had fabulous write-ups in the papers, even the Prophet. But, Mum said that my portraits lacked definition. She doesn't understand the concept of modern art." Victoria rolled her eyes, sighed heavily, and quickly swallowed her drink.

"Sorry about that."

"Not your problem," she said brightly, forcing a smile on her face. "Care to dance?"

"To what?" He was puzzled at her sudden change in conversation, not to mention her question.

"This is a party, and I want to dance. But, if you're too uncoordinated to keep up--"

"I am not uncoordinated," he defended himself, jumping at the chance to be close to her.

"Alright, but I'll be very upset if you ruin my shoes."

She winked and dashed for the house, downing a couple more drinks before Stephen caught up with her. When they reached the floor, Victoria saw her parents staring at her as if she'd lost her mind. To freak them out, she stepped even closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder, nearly dissolving in laughing fits when her father dropped his brandy.

"So, how are your shoes?" Stephen asked jokingly a few dances later. She paused and held out her left foot.

"Seem to be holding up." She smiled and he felt his knees go weak.

"Would you like another drink?" He needed to clear his mind a little.

"Sure," she replied, although she had already had more than enough. She left the dance floor and leaned against the wall. Maybe Stephen wasn't so bad, after all, she mused.

"I see you've finally chosen a man of some worth to spend your time with," a polite, distant voice hissed in her ear. Victoria turned around, eyes flashing.

"Who I spend time with is not your concern, Mother," she seethed.

"Oh, but I think that it is. It's about time that you settled down."

"To do what? Continue the precious bloodline?"

"I don't appreciate your cheek. You're the last of our people. If we die out, so does the Light," her mother remarked calmly.

"How can I forget, when you remind me constantly?" She clenched her fists angrily. "My whole life, I've been Victoria Maria Gates, the last great Seer of the house of Gryffindor. Protector of the Peace, Guardian of the Light of my people, blah, blah, blah. All I want to be is a normal witch with a normal life."

"You're not normal, and you can't hide from who you are. We need children to survive."

"We're not having this conversation right now, Mother." She was on the verge of tears and trembling with rage. "For the record, maybe I'd rather risk the destruction of our way of life instead of putting all this pressure on my descendants. And, I'm not a breeding horse, so don't ever bring up this subject again."

Victoria turned on her heel and blindly ran through the house and onto the patio for the second time that evening. Hot tears stung her cheeks. She wiped them off with the back of her hand and sat, brooding.

"Is something wrong?"

"N-no. I'm fine, thank you," she answered, wishing that Stephen would go away and leave her alone.

"I think you're a great artist, by the way," he said out of the blue, passing her a drink, which instantly disappeared.

"Really?" She smiled through her tears. "How would you know?"

"I've been to art galleries, thank you very much." The effects of the night's worth of drinking were beginning to show. Victoria snorted.

"You don't look like an art kind of guy."

"I'm not. I was just passing by, and was curious. You know, I admire you."

"Why's that?" she giggled. This conversation was getting stranger by the minute.

"Because you stand up to your parents and do what you want to."

"Oh, that." She waived her hand dismissively. "They don't care what I do, really, as long as I produce an heir to the family dynasty. Anyway, if you're so unhappy, why don't you quit?"

"Quit?"

"Yeah, just walk up my father, take a deep breath, and say, 'Mr. Gates, you're a boring prat, and I have better things to do with my life than deal with your crap. So, I quit.' Then go do whatever it is that you really want to do."

"I have no clue what that is, though," Stephen admitted.

"So what? Just live a little."

"Alright."

He surreptitiously dropped a chocolate frog down the back of her robes, and laughed when she screamed and jumped up. She took the frog and smashed it on his face with a splatter. Suddenly, an idea flashed in her mind, an incredibly evil idea that she never would've considered had she been in her right mind.

"Stephen, have you been on a tour of the house?" she asked, toying with her hair.

"Of course. Why?"

"No, I mean the whole house. As in my part of the house."

Victoria smiled innocently, hoping to lure him into her wing of the estate, which was permanently booby-trapped. She hated it when guests messed with her things, so when they did, the consequences were severe. And, if she remembered correctly, she still had some itching powder, not to mention prank candy.

"Uh, no," he said nervously.

She took him by the hand so that he couldn't escape, and led him across the grounds to her private porch. Not letting go of him, she opened the door and pulled him inside. "So, here's where I grew up."

"Nice place," he managed to say. His family's estate was about the same size, and his own rooms were equally impersonal. There was nothing about this sitting room that made him think of Victoria.

"Why don't you sit down," she said in her friendliest voice, pointing to a small settee. "Don't worry, no one knows we're here."

"Ok," he replied, crossing the room and sitting down. His mind was working overtime, wondering why she brought him here. Victoria picked up a bowl of taffy and ate a couple of pieces before joining him on the settee.

"Candy?"

"Sure." As soon as he tasted the taffy, he knew that he had been tricked. He jumped up and spat out the candy in his hand, but it was too late. A quick look in the mirror confirmed that his teeth were indeed a deep shade of purple. He turned around and saw Victoria laughing hysterically, nearly about to fall on the floor.

Not to be outdone, Stephen quickly put the taffy back in his mouth and chewed it furiously for a minute. Then he marched over to her and kissed her passionately, which quickly turned into snogging. When she realized what he was doing, Victoria shoved him away from her and looked in the mirror.

"My teeth are purple. You made my teeth purple!" she hooted, collapsing on the floor in fits of laughter. She crawled across the room and continued snogging him, while steadily dumping itching powder down his robes.

"Aaauuugghhh!" he screamed, flinging off his outer robes, which did little to stop the itching.

"That's what you get for preying on innocent little girls," Victoria snickered.

"Innocent? Not hardly," he grumbled, taking off his shirt and brushing off the powder.

"Wow, you don't look half bad…" she began admiringly. He looked up with a defensive look on his face.

"For a Ravenclaw prat? You honestly think that I spend all of my time working, don't you? Thank you for the lovely tour, but I must be heading home. Work in the morning and all." He balled up his clothing angrily and began to Disapparate.

"Stephen, wait!" she called out, unknowingly slurring the words.

He glared at her, causing Victoria to lose her train of thought. She rather fancied his grumpy stare, not to mention the sight of him in only his trousers. The corners of his face turned up in a slight smile, knowing she was far too prideful to chase after him.

And he had wanted her for far too long to walk away. Even though somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, his conscience told him that they were far too inebriated to be doing this. Throwing his principles aside along with the clothing in his hands, he walked to where she was standing.

"I'll leave if you want me to," he said after a couple of minutes, pulling her down to the floor with him.

"Don't," she mumbled in his ear. That was all he needed to hear.

~~~~~


Victoria woke up with a pounding headache, and flipped the pillow over her head to block out the sunlight. When her head hit the carpet, she realized that she wasn't at home. Well, she recognized the color as being in her sitting room at her parents' house, but she had no idea why she was there. Or why she was sleeping on the floor, for that matter.

She yawned and groggily sat up, pulling the blanket with her. An annoyed snort followed by a hand reaching out to grab the covers caused her to jump, and drop the blanket. The hand found the edge of the thin comforter, slowly pulled it towards him, and disappeared. She gulped, feeling incredibly stupid. How did she end up in this situation?

You know how, she lamented. The only question is who that is? She took a deep breath, lifted the corner of the other pillow and immediately burst into tears as she began to remember the night before. Not wanting to wake Stephen, she silently stood, grabbed her belongings, and Disapparated to her bedroom at home.

Which had a perfect view of his house from the window. She violently pulled down the blinds and threw herself on the bed, sobbing. An hour later, she heard a quiet knock on the door.

"Yes?" she asked, trying to sound normal.

"Stephen Potter's downstairs, wanting to talk to you. What do you want me to tell him?" Juliana called through the closed door.

"I'm not here," she sniffled.

"Ok…"

Victoria sat up and got herself together, knowing that Juliana would be back in a minute wanting an explanation. Sure enough, she tapped on the door, eyes widening at Victoria's red, puffy eyes and unkempt appearance. Juliana wheeled inside the room and closed the door tightly behind her.

"What happened?" she asked gently, standing up slowly and waddling to sit beside Victoria on the bed. "Does it have to do with Stephen?"

She nodded, crying too hard to speak. After crying on Juliana's shoulder for a few minutes, she blew her nose loudly. "We, uh, spent last night together."

"How together?"

"Together together. It was such a mistake." She began crying again.

"Again, what happened? I thought he wasn't exactly on your favorite people list," Juliana wondered.

"He's not. We were at my parents' party last night, and started talking. Which led to dancing and more talking. It was pretty fun, actually. The next thing I know, I woke up beside him on the living room floor."

"Then what?" She sat up eagerly, her grey eyes shining with unasked questions.

"I freaked out and Apparated home."

"Why? Didn't you say that you had a fun time with Stephen?"

"With as much as I had to drink, I would've had a fun time with anyone! How could I have been so stupid?" Victoria buried her head in a pillow dramatically.

"Shh, it'll be all right," Juliana said soothingly. "Maybe you should talk to him about it. He did seem pretty eager to see you this morning."

"I don't ever want to see him again," came her muffled reply from the pillow.

~~~~~


Stephen cracked open the door, surprised to see Victoria nervously standing on the front porch, wringing a handkerchief in her hands. Since the night of the Christmas party a little over a month ago, she had avoided him, no matter how hard he tried to talk to her. He tried to hide his happiness to see her and put on a nonchalant expression.

"Can I come in?" she asked quietly, without a greeting.

He nodded and swung open the door. Victoria couldn't help a small smile. Despite being a rather large house, a mansion really, it looked like any other bachelor dwelling. Sparse, mismatched furniture, bottles and other litter scattered on the floor, and the odd piece of clothing here and there from where he probably took it off and left it there. And of course, the requisite twenty or so Quiddich posters within eyesight.

"You have a nice house," she admitted, looking around. It had plenty of potential, anyway.

"Thanks. Graduation present from my parents." He shrugged. "I wouldn't have picked it, but beggars can't be choosers, huh?"

"I would suppose not." She gathered up her courage and took a deep breath. Right when she began to speak, Stephen unknowingly interrupted her.

"Would you like to sit down?" He had no idea to say, but she looked like she was upset about something. The deep circles under her eyes were a dead giveaway.

"Yes, thank you."

Stephen rushed over to his dilapidated couch and quickly shoved the clothes and litter on the floor. "Sorry about the mess."

"No problem," Victoria lied. She was a neat freak, and fought the urge to take out her wand and straighten the room.

"Well--" they said together. They nervously laughed.

"You first," he said gallantly.

"I guess there's no good way to say this other than to just say it," she babbled, her eyes tearing up. "I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant?" he repeated in a high-pitched voice. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I went to the doctor yesterday to make sure." She quickly blotted away a tear with her handkerchief. Stephen sat silently for a minute, then jumped to his feet and started pacing up and down the living room.

"How did this happen?" he asked, mostly to himself. "It was only one time. Ok, two, and then after that when you--"

"I remember," she said sharply.

"Weren't you on some sort of potion or something?" He stopped pacing and stared at her, still in shock.

"No. Contrary to popular belief, I do not sleep around," she seethed.

"I didn't mean it that way, Victoria. I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair, making every follicle stand on end, and resumed pacing.

"I-I don't expect anything from you. I just thought that if word ever got around, that it's best that you heard it from me," she said, trying not to cry.

"Does anyone else know, like your parents?" Stephen asked quietly, trying to gather his thoughts together. She shook her head no and burst into tears.

"I've disgraced the family. That's exactly what Daddy will say, right before he turns me and the baby out," she said in between sobs.

He knelt down in front of her and took her shaking frame in his arms. "No, he won't. Everything will settle down after the wedding--"

"The what?" Victoria pulled away from him and gave him a look as if he was off his nut.

"The wedding," he repeated slowly. "The sooner the better, I'm thinking."

"Oh, no. One night together doesn't mean that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you. I don't need a mercy marriage to save my reputation." She buried her head in her handkerchief with the last few words.

"Victoria, I--" his voice trailed off.

Stephen didn't quite know what to say. He now understood that it was rude of him to assume that she told him about the baby because she wanted to marry him. Of course, had he really thought it through, he would've realized that nothing about Victoria was traditional.

Which is why he loved her so much. But, apparently she didn't feel the same way about him, baby or no baby. And no matter what he said or did, she would only see it as him acting because of duty or honor, not love.

"You don't need to say anything. No one will even know the baby's yours; I won't tell anyone. Just forget that I even came by." She stood up quickly and ran out of the house.

~~~~~


Victoria entered the hospital room at St. Mungo's, trying to keep herself together for Juliana's sake. She gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed and forced a smile on her face. Her friend looked so frail, which frightened her.

"How's Sirius?" Juliana rasped in a whisper. "Perfect. He's a very quiet baby, hardly cries at all. Mostly just looks around at everything," she answered. "Why'd you name him after a star, anyway?"

"Not a star, the brightest star in the sky. That way, after I'm gone, he can look at the night sky and know that I'm looking down at him," she explained earnestly.

"Don't say that. You're not going to die. You can't die. I need you – especially now with the twins on the way, and--"

"Twins?" Juliana's pale face turned up in a smile.

She nodded. "A boy and a girl. I've Seen it."

"What else have you Seen?" she asked. Victoria knew what she meant, and searched her memory for a minute.

"Well, I had a vision of Sirius' eleventh birthday. And he kissed my daughter."

"Did he really? Must be his father coming out in him." They both laughed, despite the gloominess of the situation. "Do they get together?"

"I don't know. I Saw part of his wedding. It was outside, underneath a very tall tree. And the maid of honor was wearing yellow." Victoria wrinkled her nose.

"Yellow?" Juliana's face was equally pursed.

"Awful, isn't it? It's a bold color best confined to buttercups and the sun, which has no place at a solemn occasion. No way my daughter would have that poor of taste, so I have no idea who Sirius marries."

"Anything else?" Her voice was getting weaker by the minute.

"I had a vision yesterday of him, probably in his late fifties. I knew it was he because he favors you so strongly. Anyway, he was chasing a young blonde man, about our age, around a large estate with a gun."

"What?" Her eyes flew open.

"I didn't understand everything he was screaming, but most of it was incredibly profane. Then he started shooting at the poor boy, and I couldn't hear a thing."

Juliana smiled, and her eyes fluttered shut as William walked into the room. He rushed to her side and took her cold, limp hand in his own.

"No! Please wake up," he begged. "Please. I can't live without you."

The attending nurse walked over, checked Juliana's pulse, and shook her head softly. Victoria sank limply to the floor and dissolved into tears. She pounded the floor angrily. How could the best friend that she'd ever had be dead, right when her life should be beginning? It didn't seem fair. It wasn't fair, not to Juliana, and especially not to her newborn son. Victoria curled into a ball and cried out her sorrow, right there on the hospital floor.


~~~~~


Hope you enjoyed! –Pamela