Author's note: Listen, I know 'tuque' is the most Canadian word ever but I genuinely don't know what British people call their winter hats. Someone tell me in the comments. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the canon, world, and characters portrayed below and you can tell I'm not J.K. Rowling because #transrights

Hogwarts: Assignment #4, Poetry Task #1 Write about discovering another person's hidden/unexpected talent.

Warnings: NA

The Odd One Out

The snow crunched under their feet as they took another lap of the park, looking over their shoulders every now and then to take a peek at Margo to make sure she was still happy in the sleigh they were pulling her in. She hadn't tugged off her mittens yet and was humming to herself as she looked at the scenery, rocking contently. Satisfied, Teddy turned back to Victoire. She was running a mittened hand over her belly bump–or what could be seen of it from how puffy and thick her winter coat was.

"Anything?" Teddy asked–as he had for, well, five days now since her due date had passed.

"No, she's just kicking," Victoire said with a sigh. "Our little dancer, as always."

"Right," Teddy said. They had an appointment at St. Mungo's on Friday to induce labour if their stubborn child didn't come of her own free will, but he knew Victoire much rather not wait until the end of the week. Hence why they were taking walks around his parents' neighbourhood–before going home tonight to eat the spiciest Indian food they could order to try and get this baby out.

He reached out his hand and took hers as they waddled in the snow, slowing his pace to match hers. Margo cooed happily in the sleigh behind them until they got all the way back to Mum and Dad's flat. The second they were in the lobby, Margo flapped her hands and her humming turned impatient–reminding him that she was in a rush to get out of her bulky, stuffy, hot clothes. Teddy unzipped her and carried her coat over his arm as they rode the elevator up. He leaned the sled next to their door before letting himself in, yelling his hello as Margo bolted. Thankfully, Dad appeared at the end of the hall and scooped up his granddaughter before she trudged her dirty boots too far into the flat.

"Hello," he said–carefully propping Margo on his hip and straightening up slowly. He kissed her cheek, the only place she liked kisses, and she giggled. "My, my, my. Look at those rosy cheeks, Miss Margo. Yes, look at you. How about we get your boots off before your grandmother gets you all set up with some hot chocolate?"

"Yes, thank you," Victoire called as she wrestled with the zipper of her own coat. Teddy gave her a helping hand, and Margo had gone racing off to the kitchen by the time he was ready to pull his own tuque off–he could hear Mum fawning over her and offering cocoa and biscuits.

He helped Victoire settle down on the living room couch and smoothed down her hat hair.

"Hot chocolate?" he offered.

"Please," she said. "It wouldn't be a sleigh day without it, would it?"

Dad was behind him already with two mugs for them, and a plate of dark chocolate Tim Tams to boast. Margo settled down on the living room floor with a sippy cup of cooled cocoa and a basket full of big, wooden train track pieces that she was happily putting together.

"Did you have a good sleigh ride?" Mum asked from the floor where she was sitting with her granddaughter.

"You did, didn't you Margo?" Teddy asked. "Yeah, it was fun."

"Fun, but no baby," Victoire said pointedly.

"Sorry, love. Teddy was late too," Mum said as she handed Margo another piece. "You could not pay me to do all that waiting again."

Teddy reached over and squeezed Victoire's knee. She swatted him away.

"If you feel that bad, you can hex this baby out of me, Healer Lupin," she said.

"I'm not hexing a baby out of you–no comments, Mum," he said as he could feel a joke forming in her head. Victoire was the one who snorted before letting herself lean on Teddy's shoulder, deciding that she wanted attention after all.

"I would never," she said, handing Margo another piece of the railway. "But seriously, do you two need anything?"

"You two staying on standby to take care of Margo and entertain my parents when they come down is more than enough," Victoire said, resting her hands on top of their little dancer. "I mean, it'll be like last time, won't it? I'm not worried."

Teddy thought that was good, because he most certainly was. He made eye contact with his father, who raised his own cup of cocoa in a silent toast to general anxiety.

"That's good," Mum said. "I think you're both mad for making the adult-to-child ratio in your household one to one but you'll be fine."

"We'll be fine," Teddy, who was still trying to convince himself, said.

"Yeah," Victoire said. "I just hope Margo likes being a big sister. She's been excited, but it's different when a new crying thing starts living in your house. And it would only be worse if the baby is a Metamorphmagi."

"I hadn't even thought of that," Teddy admitted.

"Well, nothing you can do about that," Mum said from the floor. "It's completely random, maybe not even inheritable. We don't really know."

"I guess so," Victoire said. "I was the only blonde one in my family, and I remember feeling so excluded when my siblings were good old ginger Weasleys. I just hope Margo doesn't feel excluded if the baby starts changing colours when it's born, just like her da, and she can't."

Margo looked up at them then and frowned disapprovingly–about as seriously as a three-going-on-four year old could. Then, her hair turned purple. A deep, grown-up, but vibrant eggplant purple that was certainly not the wispy, honey blond she'd always shared with her mother. Or, well, that she'd apparently chosen to share with her mother all this time…

"Oh, holy Helga!" Teddy said, almost spilling his whole mug of cocoa on the sofa.

"Margo!" Victoire said. "Margo, look at your hair! You made your hair so pretty, sweet pea.."

"You're so purple," Mum said as a smile split her face. Teddy saw her reach to touch Margo's hair before catching herself and cupping her granddaughter's cheek instead. Dad was too busy looking at Margo with his jaw dropped and his eyes wide as saucers. "Look at you, baby girl, you're so purple."

Margo cooed some nonsense and Teddy started laughing.

"Margogo," Teddy said. "Margo, how long have you been sitting on that one?"

"How was she not changing when she was born?" Dad asked, flabbergasted. "There's no way she could have controlled it when she was so little…"

"Oh, you don't know that. They don't make them like Margo–we knew that," Victoire said. She beamed at their daughter. "They sure don't, Margo, they sure don't. Come here, sweet pea…"

Margo brought two puzzle pieces with her as she waddled towards Victoire quietly and accepted Teddy's lift up, as he plopped her down on Victoire's knee. She kissed Margo's cheek and admired her purple hair.

"Oh, is this your way of telling us you won't feel left out after all? Oh, thank you sweet pea…" She kissed Margo's cheek again and again, making the little girl squeal.

Then Victoire grabbed Teddy's knee and squeezed it in a familiarly tight grip.

"Oh," Victoire said. Teddy grabbed Margo and stood her up on his thighs instead, giving his wife some room.

"Merlin be damned," Victoire said, shaking her head. "I think… I think she actually may have scared this baby out of me."

"So full of talents," Dad said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"God, we're going to be so outnumbered," Teddy said under his breath.

WC: 1266