They had graduated last week. It was a joyous affair. The second child of the generation after the great Harry Potter had succeeded the Hogwarts experience and everyone was so proud. Victorie was showered with praise, gifts, love and good times she was certain would stick with her forever. She finally saw the Second Wizarding War from the memories of the veterans. She was going out with her friends and with Teddy nearly everyday since she was taking the year off before she went to work. St. Mungo's sent her several job opportunities via owl.
Life was good. It was happy. It was full of life, bursting with potential.
Then Xander died.
When Victorie heard the news that her best friend (aside from Teddy) since eleven had been killed in a muggle car accident, she collapsed where she stood and lost it. Her cries were loud and heartbreaking, violent and grief-stricken. Her breath came in short gasps, and she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. She felt her tears on her face, falling onto her arms and summer dress. She was all alone in the house, as everyone else was a work, so her sobs echoed throughout the empty structure, no one around to provide her some much needed consolation.
Hours passed, and the sun moved across the sky, the world still living and breathing around her small home without pausing. She had half-hoped that the world had ceased when Xander did, because it wasn't fair. They were only children still, really, fresh out of school and ready to face the world and all its challenges. Too bad Xander never would.
The thought pulled the air from her lungs viciously, breaking her ribcage and leaving her dizzy with horror and guilt. With effort, she surged up to her feet, and dragged herself into the chair nearby. She folded herself into it, and listened mindlessly to the soft patter of spring rain beginning to fall outside. It hit the roof with quiet pats, lulling her into a dreamlike state where she was not quite asleep but not really awake, either.
It was in this mindless, broken state that Teddy found her, twenty minutes later, five hours, sixteen minutes, and twenty two seconds since she had heard of Xander's death. Twenty three, twenty four, twenty five…
She was roused by his cold hand on her face, and the soothing murmur of his voice. Wordlessly, when he asked after the source of her pain, she handed him the letter that had brought her world crashing down. He scanned it silently before pulling her from the chair and into his lap. She barely registered the feel of him burying his face in her white blonde hair. She did, however, catch his faded whisper, "You'll always have me, you know. I'm here for you."
"Yes," she breathed back, almost unaware of her own words. "I'll have you."