A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. Review, please!
~oOo~
New York City.
It was loud. And bright.
And like nothing Victoire Weasley had ever experienced in her 25 years of life.
She stood in the middle of Times Square, wrapped in her coat, balancing on the tips of the heels of her tall, high heeled boots. Muggles swarmed around her, shouting and laughing and swearing and looking annoyed and shoving each other out of their way's. A fat, bald man with a pug-like face wearing some sort of sports jersey leered at her as he shoved her aside.
Victoire, too enchanted by her surroundings, ignored him.
When Victoire came home one day from her shitty job at that shitty restaurant with the shitty name and shitty pay and announced that she wanted to move to New York City, her relatives had been baffled. They thought it was temporary, that Victoire would be over it by next week.
She wasn't.
The truth was, Victoire was sick of it all. Her family, what was expected of her, everyone fawning over her because of her heritage, her shitty job and shitty life and pretty much everything in general.
But most of all, she couldn't stand being in the same places that she'd played with Teddy in as a little girl and kissed him in as a teenager and was sick of seeing him everyday with that bloody girlfriend of his.
She was done with the scars and past she carried with her every damn day.
She wanted something new.
And here she was now, standing in bloody Times Square, after much signing of papers and money and arguments with relatives and overall effort.
And how was New York?
The lights were so bright they were blinding. It was filled with tourists. The inhabitants of the famous city were rude and impatient. The roads were filled with honking drivers sitting in traffic. There were lots of homeless people. It smelled like a million different people's scents mingled together mixed with the smell of petrol and grease and garbage and food.
Victoire absolutely loved it.