December 2016
6 months later
"It looks positively dreadful outside," Victoire said as she stared out of her bedroom window on a frigid afternoon. The sky was cloudy and angry looking; the earth looked mucky and grey. Everything actually looked grey. Even the tree outside of her window, which seemed to be collecting frost along its branches, seemed more grey than usual.
"Because it is," said another voice from across the room; one that belonged to a girl who was pulling a pair of wool socks out of a carryall bag and proceeding to pull them onto her feet.
Victoire smirked at. "It's dreadful out there." She pointed out the window. "It's not that cold inside."
"Speak for yourself," said the girl, who was called Whit, as she stood and started tying her long, mousy brown hair up into a quick ponytail.
Whit was Victoire's friend and roommate at school, Jane Whitters—or Whit as Victoire preferred to call her. She had actually known Whit since their very first day at Hogwarts; when they were both sorted into Gryffindor five and a half years ago. However, while they'd always known each other, they had spent those five and a half years not having much to do with one another.
While they shared a bedroom, been in each other's classes, and always been very cordial to each other over the years, they ran in very different social circles up until the start of this term. Victoire's former circle was generally considered the cooler, more popular kids who everyone knew; Whit's was...well, she was an introvert who'd always chosen to keep mostly to herself. Even the times Victoire would engage her when they were younger, Whit had rarely ever hung around the conversation for long. It was all too common to find her reading behind the curtains of her bed, if not camped out on her own in the library for hours on end.
But that had all changed when Victoire had returned for her sixth year determined to find new friends; people who were kind and genuine and not attention seekers who thrived on chaos. She'd been determined to distance herself from her former friends, and that started on day one. That was the day Victoire had decided to spend more of her own time hanging around their shared bedroom space and wandering the library.
It hadn't taken long for Whit to notice she wasn't being left alone as often as in the past, which was what Victoire had hoped for. While it seemed to confuse her at first, eventually Whit started to embrace the change bit by bit. The two started chatting more, which eventually blossomed into a rapport. Then a friendship.
Victoire soon discovered that Whit was a sweet and funny girl with a love of music and animals, She had an exceptionally quick wit—which Victoire had deemed the real reason for her new nickname—and a good head on her shoulders. Victoire honestly couldn't understand why she didn't have more friends, though Whit always hinted at the fact that she had mild sort of social anxiety and that meeting people overwhelmed her. As far as Victoire was concerned, that was the only thing that made sense as to why, seeing as she was otherwise a really lovely person that most people would love as a friend.
Either way, at the end of the day, it was nice to have a friend who laughed with her instead of at her.
That wasn't to say that Colleen and her crew were completely out of the picture. Victoire knew it would never have been that easy to cut them out since Colleen had to be in control. It wasn't Victoire's decision to abandon them; they had to abandon her. And they apparently weren't ready to do that yet, despite how little Victoire associated with them now.
Thankfully, the first four months of school had found the seventh-years busier than ever given they were now bogged down with early N.E.W.T preparations. Colleen, for all her other faults, was actually a fairly decent student who cared about her marks. She was fouler than ever—snapping at people for breathing too loudly near her when she was trying to concentrate—but she'd spent most of her term preoccupied with getting through her work to be too cruel to people.
That was what allowed Victoire to properly distance herself from those girls, usually just by studying in whatever room they weren't. Mealtimes were the only time she couldn't avoid them completely, and she usually put in just enough time to keep the peace before moving on to people and places she'd rather be.
It was working for now, which was all Victoire could ask for. She was focused on getting through this year, making new friends, and slowly becoming the person she'd much rather spend her final Hogwarts days being.
Back in her room, Whit had started sorting through some of Victoire's Christmas presents that had been stacked in the corner of her room. She picked up one picture frame to examine; then another. "You sure did get a lot of frames for Christmas."
"I collect them," she said, gesturing around her room to the framed photographs that covered her walls.
"I can see that," said Whit, moving over to examine the nearest one on the wall beside her. "Is this you in Paris?"
Victoire turned to look at the photo in question. It was, in fact, her mother, Dominique, Louis, and her Aunt Gabrielle standing in front of the Eiffel Tower several years ago.
She hopped off her bed to get a better look at it. "It is. Look how long my hair used to be."
"I remember in first and second-year when you had your hair down past your back. It was so long."
"I really was," she said with a nostalgic smile. "I had to cut it the summer after second year because my little cousin Freddie stuck this huge wad of "Forever Gooey Gum" in it when I wasn't looking." She smirked, remembering how angry she'd been at the time, but how funny it seemed now. "My mother was so upset. She must have used a hundred spells to get it out, but my Uncle George kept telling her that cutting it was the only way. By design it was meant to stick forever."
Whit laughed. "Do you have a picture of what that looked like?"
"Probably."
Victoire went to her wardrobe and opened it, pulling out several shoe boxes that she'd saved over the years before she found the one in particular that she'd been looking for. She pulled it out and sat down on the floor before opening it; searching through it photo by photo. "It would be in here."
Whit sat down beside her and grabbed at another one of the boxes in the wardrobe. "May I?"
She nodded, not looking up from the photos in her hand of what looked like one of her many trips to France. Whit had begun exploring through the box herself, pulling out several handfuls of photographs.
"Look at how cute you were," Whit said after several minutes, holding up a photo of Victoire and her father in Egypt. She couldn't have been older than five or six and was waving happily at the camera from atop her father's shoulders.
She smiled. "I still remember that trip to Egypt. It was so hot."
"You've been everywhere," Whit said as she continued looking through photos.
"Not really. I mean my mum's from France and her family's there so we visit. Then my dad spent loads of time in Egypt as a curse breaker so he likes to go back and visit sometimes. That was actually the only time I got to go."
"Is that Harry Potter?" Whit asked as she held up another photo. "I mean this had to be ages ago."
Victoire took it from her to examine it. It was, in fact, a much younger version of her uncle as he sat smiling next to her Aunt Ginny. She was holding a newborn Victoire in her arms. Both of them still looked like teenagers.
"That was ages ago," she said, handing the photo back. "But that is him with me and Aunt Ginny. I can't be more than a couple of months old in that."
"It's insane that he's your uncle," said Whit as she continued through the photos. "And the same thing with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I was just eating some Chocolate Frogs the other day on Christmas and I must have gotten each one of their cards."
"My Uncle Ron has his framed on his mantle."
"Does he really?"
Victoire nodded. "If you knew him, you'd know that that was just part of his personality. He's funny." She looked back down at her photos. "Most of my family is very funny."
"Your family is so fascinating," she said. "I mean, we learn about these people in History of Magic and you can just pop into their houses whenever you feel like it."
Victoire shrugged. "They've been a part of my life since before I knew they were anything special." She looked up. "Although it was a bit mental once I really understood all of the things Harry had done, then a day later I had him sitting across from me at dinner talking about Treacle Tart and nappies."
"I can imagine," Whit said with a jealous sort of sigh. "Nothing that interesting ever happens to me. My life is so painfully dull by comparison."
"I'll introduce you someday, if you want," Victoire said as they continued through the boxes of photos.
"Aw, your brother was a cute little lad," Whit said after a small silence, smiling down at a photo of Louis with a bowl on his head.
"That was before he knew it," Victoire joked. "Now he does and it gets annoying."
"Are he and Natalie still together?"
Victoire nodded. "Going strong, which is...surprising. He doesn't usually stay with girls this long."
"It's been a few months."
"And it's usually a few weeks," Victoire quipped. "I mean, it's good for him. Something more serious, but…"
Whit stared at her, waiting for her to finish that sentence.
"I don't understand them," Victoire finally admitted. "They're such different people. She's just…."
She stopped before she said anything mean. Natalie could be very nice, but there was something about her that felt so fake. Not to mention, she was completely uninterested in so many of the things Louis was keen on; the things that made Louis who he was. She just always seemed more into Louis the persona versus Louis the actual person.
"She's just not his usual type," Victoire finished.
"Really?" Whit asked. "I haven't paid Louis the kind of attention some people do, but she's pretty and she adores him. That seems like the type of girl he's usually seen with."
"It's the type of girl he usually gets bored with quickly," Victoire quipped. "I'm not quite sure why this one's sticking."
"Opposites are known to attract," Whit offered.
"Evidently," Victoire muttered, looking over at her. "Though to be honest, I've never found that to be true. While they may attract, they rarely make it the long haul."
"I wouldn't know," Whit said with a sigh, randomly flipping through several more photos in quick succession. "I'll be forever single."
"You won't," Victoire said, throwing Whit a rather pointed look.
Whit had never dated before, though it was due to a strange combination of it being both her choice and not her choice. She fancied boys, she admitted that much, but she was terrified to talk to any of them about anything other than maybe school or the weather...even that was a stretch. It all played into her social anxiety and the fact that she refused to get out there and do anything about it. And there was no reason she couldn't find someone—she was adorable and lovely once she opened up—she just needed to put herself out there.
The moment she'd told Victoire—in a roundabout way and certainly not directly—that she would be interested in dating if the right person came along, Victoire had thus made it her goal to attempt to make that happen.
"We'll find you someone worth properly dating before school is out," Victoire said matter-of-factly. "I'm already on the lookout for the guy."
"You're not..." Whit said, shrinking in on herself a bit as she often did when the topic came up.
"I am," Victoire said with a nod. "I think I've figured out the type you like best. Not the the proper fit ones, because you're too intimidated by them."
Whit closed her eyes and took a heavy breath.
"You like them cute in an everyday sort of way. No frills."
"I don't even know what that means…"
"Someone like Alex Wood," Victoire offered, referring to their housemate and a boy in their year who Victoire could have sworn she'd seen Whit watching a time or two in a very specific way. He was an average looking bloke who leaned toward cute; they type that got much better looking the more you got to know him because he had a good personality. "He's nice."
"Sure. Fine. He's nice," Whit said, but she was shaking her head. "But no. I'm not into him. I know he's funny and good for a laugh, and there's nothing wrong with him, but…" She wrinkled her nose. "He plays Quidditch and I have no interest in that type."
"Believe it or not, not all Quidditch players fit into a type," Victoire said. "I've dated two now and they were completely different people. Plus, look at my sister." She smirked a little. "There's no type she fits into."
"Yes, but the one thing they have in common is that they're all so involved with Quidditch and…" Whit shrugged. "It's not something I see myself around."
"Well, if not Alex, then who?" Victoire asked. "You're going to have to help me narrow this down a bit if I'm going to help you."
"That's just it. There's no one," Whit said, flipping through more of the photos in her hands. She stopped all of the sudden and held up a photograph she'd only just come across. "Or...perhaps I should just get in line for a crack at Stuart Reynolds like the rest of you?"
Victoire reached out and snatched the photo from her, finding herself surprised by its existence and her possession of it. In it Colleen Lynch, Elizabeth Cole, and Stuart were all sitting in the Three Broomsticks pub smiling back at the camera and laughing. It looked to be from last year.
"Where did this come from? I never knew I had this," Victoire said, staring at it for a moment longer and slowly smiling the more she watched Stuart. "Look how cute he is."
Whit made a face. "Stuart is definitely not my type."
"Yes, we've established that and it's a good thing too," she said, her smile growing wider as she made her way to her desk to fetch a pair of scissors. She proceeded to cut Stuart out of the photo.
"So that crush is still going strong, then?" Whit joked.
"Obviously," she said, staring at the bit of photo she'd just cut out. "And if it weren't for him and Elizabeth trying to give their relationship a second go, I'd have said something to him already." She smirked to herself. "At least I didn't go putting myself out there like Colleen, only for him to tell her he was going back to his ex. She was mortified."
"Thrilling," Whit said sarcastically, never quite finding the enjoyment in embarrassing Colleen stories that she did. Whit didn't actually like hearing her name brought up at all.
"Stu and Elizabeth just split up again not long ago," Victoire said, setting the photo down for safe keeping. "And I'm already well aware that Colleen's going to try again, even though he humiliated her when he went back to Elizabeth after she told everyone she had him where she wanted." She sighed. "But she's not a quitter though. She's just biding her time in order to avoid the same thing happening again."
"But you're not going to let that happen?" Whit asked.
"Not if I can help it," she said with a bright smile. "At least I've got a blank slate with him. Unlike her."
"Are you trying to turn this into a competition?"
"Everything with Colleen is a competition," Victoire said. "And if this is the last battle I have to have with her, so be it."
"There are so many other boys though," Whit said, tossing the photos she'd finished looked at back into their shoe box. "Why bother fighting over this one boy when you could have so many others?"
Victoire shrugged. "Why bother letting Colleen have the one boy I want just because there are others available?"
Whit didn't seem to know what to say to that, and once Victoire grinned a rather cheeky smile at her, she clearly decided to ignore the topic entirely and proceed onto the next shoe box full of photos. Victoire, in turn, continued searching through her own box in search of any other pictures of Stuart that she wasn't aware of.
"Who's this?" Whit asked minutes later as she stuck a random photo in front of Victoire's face. It was of her and Ted in the back garden of Burrow one day as they helped her grandmother de-gnome the garden. She looked to be about seven; he looked about nine.
"That's me and Ted," she said, casting it a quick glance. "Ted Lupin."
"Is it really?" Whit asked, flipping the photo back around towards her to get a better look. "It looks nothing like him."
"It doesn't?" Victoire asked, taking the photo back to examine it more closely. "Oh, that's because he's given himself a gnome nose to be funny. And he's made his hair all gray for some reason. He was probably trying to impersonate something. "
"This box is full of photos of you and him," Whit said as she continued searching through it. "I never knew you two knew each other so well."
"I've known him since the day I was born," Victoire said as she stood up from the floor and moved to sit on her bed. "He was my best friend."
"Was he? You never talk about him."
She shrugged. "I don't mean not to. We got in this huge row to years ago where we didn't talk for something like a year, and we only just made up before he finished school. Since he left, we haven't talked much since I've been at Hogwarts and he's been working." She shrugged again. "We don't see each other often these days, but we're still friends."
"I never knew," Whit said as she continued looking at photos of him. "You two seem like such different people."
"Surprisingly," Victoire said as she absently scratched her nose, "we're a lot more similar than you'd think."
Whit had hummed in surprise, though Victoire found herself curious as to how she knew she and Ted were apparently 'such different people.' To know that, she'd have to know Ted in some way.
"I didn't know you knew Ted."
Whit looked up. "I was in Gobstones Club with him."
"Gobstones Club?" Victoire asked, a short laugh escaping her before she thought better of it. "You were in Gobstones Club?"
"For a few months," she offered. "It was my attempt to get out there more and…" She looked a little embarrassed to say what was coming, "try and meet people."
Now it was Victoire's turn to hum in surprise. "I never took you as a Gobstoner."
"Just for a bit," Whit said a bit defensively. "Though if you're going to take the piss, you might want to go after your best friend here." She held up another photo of Ted. "He was far more interested in the whole thing than I ever was."
"Oh, believe me, I have," Victoire said, laughing now at one of the many memories of watching Ted's 'serious Gobstone' face emerge when the pair of them would play. He always took it so seriously when they were little.
"Ted's been into Gobstones for as long as I can remember. I've been teasing him about it all ever since I could. All for fun, though."
Whit was still staring at the photo of Ted she had in her hand—one where he looked to be about twelve or thirteen, if Victoire had to guess—and he was waving at the camera. When she finally turned back to Victoire, she rather hesitantly said, "Want to hear something funny?"
"Always."
"Promise you won't laugh."
"But you said it was funny…?"
Whit was shifting a little awkwardly where she sat. She actually looked as if she might be blushing a touch. She held up the photo. "I used to think he was cute."
Victoire gaped. "Did you really?"
"A little," she said sheepishly, though there was a touch of laughter in her voice. "He was older and—I just told you how I liked older boys. He was always so nice and I thought it was so cool how he'd change his hair color given his mood and all." She reached up and rubbed her face. "I don't think we ever even spoke. He didn't even know who I was."
"That. Is. Amazing," Victoire said, finding herself thoroughly amused by this admission.
"You don't meet too many Metamorphmaguses," she said almost defensively. "He always seemed so interesting. I don't…" She shook her head, seemingly regretting even bringing this up. "What does he do for a living now?"
"He's in antidote research at St. Mungo's. He's working out new cures and whatnot for various ailments and diseases."
"Of course he is," Whit said in a funny sort of way. "He seemed the type who would do something impressive sounding like that."
Yeah, he's an impressive guy," Victoire offered, her gaze travelling out her window and back to the frosty tree again. "His main goal is to find a cure for the werewolf gene."
"That's a big goal."
Victoire smiled a little. "He's wanted to figure that out since we were kids. We both used to talk about doing it one day. One summer, when we were maybe eight or nine, we talked about werewolves non-stop. We were obsessed."
"Interesting hobby choice for you two to have."
Victoire bit her lip and didn't take her eyes off the tree. She wondered if she should really go into this, but ultimately decided she was safe to do so. Whit had proven she could be trusted.
"We both had werewolf attacks in our families—with our parents, specifically—so it was just a common goal for us to help make it so that other people would never have to deal with the same thing."
Whit looked up at her as if a sudden realization had hit her. "Your dad…?"
"Was attacked," she finished. "Yes. Thankfully he wasn't infected, just mauled."
"I wanted to ask," she said. "When I met him earlier today, I figured it had something to do with the war, since you said your parents were both active in fighting. I just thought it was the result of a hex gone wrong."
Victoire smiled sadly. "I'm just thankful he was never infected. Ted's dad wasn't so lucky."
"His dad was a werewolf?"
She nodded. "I'm telling you this in confidence, by the way."
"I won't tell anyone."
"He never knew his parents," she continued. "They were both killed in the war. But he heard about the poor treatment his dad went through because he was one. To this day, Ted's set on making sure other people don't have to go through the same thing." She turned back toward the window again. "The laws have become better for werewolves, but it's still a long road to fix the physical harm that the Wolfsbane Potion can do only so much to prevent."
"I would have never…" Whit said in almost a whisper. "But wait, if his dad was bitten as a boy, how did he not get the gene passed onto him?"
"He got lucky," Victoire said. "We think the Metamorphmagus gene he got from his mum overpowered the werewolf one, but we don't know for sure. It's a theory."
Whit sat there in a bit of shock, though a sudden knock at the bedroom door broke the silence rather abruptly. The door opened just a crack to reveal Victoire's father standing on the other side.
"Hey," he said with a smile; his scars more than apparent in this moment in particular. "Wanted to remind you, Vic, that you promised Harry and Ginny you'd watch the kids tonight so they could go out."
"That's tonight?" she asked, sitting up straighter and vaguely remembering that her aunt had asked her at Christmas if she was free tonight to watch their children for them. They'd pay her of course, and she'd readily agreed because she could use the pocket money after the holidays wiped her out.
Her father nodded. "And it's nearly six. Wasn't that when you said you'd be over?"
"I'd forgotten all about that," Victoire said, pulling herself off her bed.
"I'd better go then," Whit said, throwing the remaining photos she was holding back into their box. "You have fun babysitting, but I'll see you for your birthday on Saturday."
Her father grinned at that reminder, standing aside to let both Whit and Victoire pass and make their way downstairs. "I can't believe you're turning seventeen already."
"I can't believe I'll finally be legal," Victoire quipped. "I'll finally be able to Apparate. I can even actually have a real drink."
She could hear her dad sigh from somewhere behind her, followed by the quiet mumbling of "Don't remind me."