𝓥𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓻𝓮 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂 ⋆ 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝓃𝑒

[scorpio]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ .:・° ☆ °・:. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝓥𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓻𝓮 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂
𝒮𝑒𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉: 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒪𝓃𝑒

𝓘𝓷𝓬𝓵𝓾𝓭𝓮𝓭
ʟᴏᴜɪs, ғᴀʀʜɪʏᴀ, ᴊᴀᴄǫᴜᴇʟɪɴᴇ, ᴇᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴀᴍᴇs
𝓜𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓭
ᴅᴏᴍɪɴɪǫᴜᴇ
𝓢𝓮𝓽 ⋆ 𝓝𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ .:・° ☆ °・:. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝒲𝑒𝓁𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒, 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒲𝒾𝓏𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒶𝓉 𝐻𝑜𝑔𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈.

𝒟𝒾𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒶 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 ?
𝒮𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓃𝒶𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓉𝑒. 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔.
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰.

𝔁𝓸, 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓻

━━━━━━━━ ♟ ━━━━━━━━

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Ahh, September First. The day every Hogwarts student heads to Platform 9¾ to begin another year of school. The summer was quiet, perhaps too quiet. It seemed as though all the drama was finally settling and would be left behind. No pesky app would bother anyone. 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓼, 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮, 𝓼𝓸 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻, 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 ? No, no. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓻 will not go away so easily. Most people had even deleted it off their phone, but that doesn't change the notification that pops up when the train pulls into school. A foreboding welcome back message is accompanied by a massive attack on various students. Now instead of watching the first years get sorted and catching up with your friends, you are dealing with the fallout of all your summer shenanigans being leaked publicly. Good luck trying to unpack your bags quietly when everyone else is trying to unpack just what terrible things you did when you were away . . .

---

[scorpio]

---

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

---

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She’s running late. 𝓞𝓯 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓼.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Dominique!” Bill yells in a last-ditch effort to satiate his eldest. She still won’t stop the daggers that she is throwing in his direction, as if it’s his fault that his other daughter doesn’t know how to be on time. “I’m leaving without her, Dad. I’m not missing the train so she can straighten her hair,” Victoire hisses. Fleur and Bill share a look. They know she isn’t bluffing. She and Louis are dressed, packed, and full off delicious crêpes and tea. It is nearly eleven in the morning, after all. Hardly an early enough hour to warrant panicked tardiness.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I will wait for ‘er. You take zem to the station, chéri.” Always the peace-maker among her children, Fleur doesn’t need to use her Veela gifts to charm her way out of the potential argument brewing between her daughters. The cute French accent that she refuses to lose does wonders on its own. “Come ‘ere, Louis. One more ‘ug!” She pulls her son close and kisses the top of his head. He at least has the respect to wipe it off only after she has set her sights on Victoire.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Mother and daughter. So similar, and yet so achingly different.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀They smile at one another, but the flash of darkness across Fleur’s face is unmistakable. “What is it?” Victoire hesitates. “Nozing, nozing,” she soothes, yet the worry is still there in her eyes. “Just zad to see all my babies getti’ older.” Her lie is as believable as she is ugly, but Victoire lets it go. She has to if she wants to make the Hogwarts Express. Late is not in her vocabulary. It isn’t like she has a flying car on hand . . . or any burning desire to be like her obnoxious uncle. “Goodbye, Mama. Je t’aime. Miss you already.” They share a hug before Victoire charms her suitcases to carry themselves to her hands. She does it with wandless magic, still a feat she is proud of, though she does not like to brag with it at school.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Bill and Louis hold each other and his bags tight, while Victoire grips the excessive belongings she is bringing to school. She would do a spell to make them bigger inside, but then she wouldn’t have a reason to buy all the cute trunks in the first place. “Count from three?” she teases her father once all her stuff is secure. His scarred face immediately softens into a grin. She always made him do it when she was little before he apparated with her. Victoire closes her eyes, envisioning Platform Nine and Three-Quarters before her, and Bill’s soothing voice carries her off.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Three,
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀Two,
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀One!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀In an instant, magic envelops Victoire’s senses and transports her to King’s Cross. Only one more step until she is back in the only place that feels truly like home.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Save a seat for Dom,” Bill says as wraps her in a hug. They’re both equally terrible at goodbyes, but at least that means this will be short. “You know she won’t sit with me,” Victoire retorts. His fleeting touch already leaves her empty. She has always been a daddy’s girl, in spite of everything. Or is it because of everything?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Never hurts to try,” he winks. Though it is just a few feet between them now, Victoire can barely hear him over the chaos of departure. It feels like a thousand families are there saying goodbye, a cacophony of disjointed sounds and jumbled bodies and luggage. She can’t handle staying any longer.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Bye, dad.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀A soft smile. Two simple words. Maybe it seems like nothing to a passerby, but between them, it says everything. Victoire doesn’t look back as she boards the train. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be the woman she has built herself to be.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She takes only moments to find the train compartment that her friends have already texted her about. They even saved her the window seat. “Thanks, ladies,” she beams as she settles in. Just as the horn on the train screams its final call, Victoire swears she sees a rogue Ravenclaw scarf barely leap into the car doors. 𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓵, 𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓲𝓽.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ .:・° ☆ °・:. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“So who do you think the new magical theory professor is? My mum refused to say. That stick goes further up her arse every year,” Farhiya deadpans, but a small giggle overtakes her in a moment.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Why did they split her classes up anyway?” Victoire wonders as she begins to unpack her dresses in their double room. They only have a little while until the sorting ceremony, but it is never too early to charm some wrinkles out. “She wanted to focus more on this research thing, I guess. And they told her they had the perfect candidate,” Fari shrugs. “Hopefully they’re cute!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“You’ve got a boyfriend,” Victoire teases, although they both know he will be cast aside in the next month. The more adventurous of the duo twirls around Victoire’s bedpost and crashes above the freshly-made sheets. The Veela tries not to huff at her hard work undone already. “Perhaps they will be my next conquest,” Farhiya teases. “Wouldn’t that be something: a professor!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“You sound like a crappy porno,” Victoire chides, but the slight laugh that escapes is all the encouragement Farhiya needs. She leaps off the bed and drapes herself seductively against the wall, hand splayed across her forehead for good, dramatic measure. “He could tutor me after class, punish me when I’ve done wrong, and — ” A pillow crashes into her head before she can finish.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“FARI!” Victoire tries to come off offended, but she can’t quite muster it. “Let’s just get this sorting over with so you can get laid already.” In a fit of soft laughter every time they make eye contact, the girls descend to The Great Hall.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“It never gets old!” Fari dreamily looks at the charmed ceiling and twirls through the towering doors. The entire grand room is decorated for the start of a new term in glittering banners of each house. It is truly magnificent.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Can you believe it’s your last — ”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀But the words catch in Victoire’s throat as her jaw falls slightly agape.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀There are moments that people dream about again and again. They write the scenario over in their head a hundred times and replay it like a movie. For some, it’s their wedding. For others, it’s receiving an award. For Victoire, it was reuniting with Edward Remus Lupin. But in all the ways she pictured seeing him again, she never expected it to be this.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Here.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀At Hogwarts.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The place she saw him last.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The place she never thought he’d be again.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Teddy?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀It’s not her usual commanding voice. It’s a whimper, barely audible. It hurts like fucking hell. Of course he doesn’t look toward her; he’s a hundred feet away with the professors. 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓱𝓮'𝓼 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶. Even with the strange glasses clouding the familiar face or the too-expensive grey suit seeming out of his taste, it is the same smile. The same . . . geeky Hufflepuff scarf. And he’s happily conversing with Hagrid.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Her whole world stops. She can’t move.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Is that . . . ?” Farhiya doesn’t finish her own question. “Babe, I swear. I swear I didn’t think it would be him. My mom never mentioned it at all.” Victoire stays quiet, but she believes Fari. Her friend doesn’t know the whole story. No one knows what happened. She just knows it was bad, that Victoire hadn’t said that name for years, and now here it was tumbling out of her uncontrollably. Before the Veela can even explain or maybe ask for help, Fari’s boyfriend is behind her, whisking her away. She doesn’t even fake a protest for Victoire’s benefit. Typical. Just like always, she disappears without a care.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀In a small consolation, at least Jacqueline is beckoning her too-excitedly to settle in at a table. They have a long tradition of sitting near each other, back to back; then the different houses can’t keep them apart. Farhiya, of course, does the same with whatever boyfriend she has at the time. Now is no different; it doesn’t matter to her that Victoire might have needed the support. Although she is the original inspiration for how to basically sit next to someone no matter their robe colors, Farhiya isn’t exactly known for her reliability.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire forces herself forward, each step closer to Teddy. The closest they’ve been in years. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Did Peeves getcha?!” Jacqueline teases. The alcohol on her breath overwhelms Victoire’s senses, forcing her to focus back on the moment of reality. “You need some of this, beauty.” A flask mysteriously appears in Victoire’s hand. She only secretly takes a small one to avoid the conversation that comes from saying no. Jackie, of course, hasn’t noticed the new staff addition. She won’t be cutting her friend any slack. And Victoire really could use the drink.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She wants to be anywhere but here. See him in any way except this. But she can’t look away from the man on the stage. Edward Remus Lupin. She hates him. She loves him. She hates him. She loves him. Time disappears. All the names and placements of first years are a blur, until finally the spell is broken. Finally, his eyes find hers. Her instincts compel her to smile, even if just slightly. The self-loathing is immediate. How could she smile after what he did? She hates herself for the weakness and tears her gaze away before taking in any more of his unfamiliar presence. Her avoidance is so quick that she doesn’t even notice the old familiar tell of happiness: his professional brown hair has flushed rose gold. She won’t look again to find it for herself. For the rest of the meal, she doesn’t even glance in the direction of the professors. Yet his presence still burns a hole through her. She can practically feel the energy of the space between them.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire tries to make polite small-talk with the Gryffindors around her. When McGonagall introduces him, when the name “Professor Lupin” crashes through The Great Hall, she aches more than she ever has at the full moon. Her senses are on fire. Not even the small clang from the staff’s direction brings her attention, despite some of the braver students — mostly the assholes surrounding her — letting out small chuckles. She doesn’t want to be in on any jokes about him. Teddy’s painfully familiar voice fills the chamber, and every word cuts like a knife in her gut. Her heart keeps telling her to scream. Stand up. Yell, “How could you?” Make a fool of him in front of everyone. But she only plays with the last of her peas and finishes the final sip from her goblet. 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓼 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝔀 𝓪 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓸, she muses.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Vic?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀That cursed nickname snaps her attention. It’s an insult. 𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂, she forces herself to think it through. 𝓨𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓬. It’s just because Jacqueline has been sneaking firewhiskey into her pumpkin juice since the beginning of the feast. { And sneaking it all on its own long before that. } Once, Victoire found it quite cute that they would find a way to sit by each other no matter what, but now with a drunk girl getting too close to whisper in her ear, she almost longs to be back in the hellhole of London. 𝓐𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Time to gooooo,” Jacqueline coos. She means it as a sexy provocateur, though her slight stumble ruins the image. But the least Victoire can do is go along with it; she hadn’t even realized they’d been dismissed. “Of course, baby,” she purrs. Her arm hooks into Jackie’s elbow to give her friend the steady anchor she doesn’t know she needs. Jackie’s inebriation only gets worse with motion.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“What shall we do tonight? Break into Ravenclaw?” It’s Farhiya who comes up behind them both — having easily intimidated her way through the lower years — with her signature sweet-nothings of trouble and chaos. Her two-week boyfriend is already too far behind for her to care. Perhaps his conversation at dinner wasn’t interesting enough. She waited for or on no one. “Brilliant!” Jackie squeals. “We can charm the books to scream all through the night! We can fill their shoes with chicken eggs! We can . . . oh my god! I forgot to eat the pie!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Good luck getting any sort of riddle out of this one,” the Veela hums. A plate of blueberry pie is already floating into Jackie’s fingers, but she still catches the slight.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Who needs you anyway, killjoy?” The troublesome Hufflepuff sticks out her tongue for good measure. Victoire forces herself to grind her teeth and keep her mouth shut. If she gets upset, then she only proves the point. And all three of the girls know that their 𝓥𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓥𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓪 isn’t going to go anyway. She has done the exact same thing on her first night for every year she has been at Hogwarts. She won’t invite them. She won’t tell them what it is. But they all know she will sneak off and do it, 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓼, again.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Was that your name?” Jacqueline’s drunken eyes try to survey the thinning crowd behind them, but Farhiya is quick to dismiss her. “Probably just Victor, the seventh-year Slytherin.” Wordlessly, she slips the weight of Jackie onto herself. Before Victoire can even react, the two non-Ravenclaws are making a very suspicious turn towards a certain blue and silver common room. “See you, then,” Fari winks and takes off into the sea of reuniting students.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀When soft fingers brush against her elbow, Victoire assumes that it’s some first-year who has lost their prefect and needs help with directions. But the honeyed words that come from behind her make her stop in her tracks.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Victoire.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀It’s just her name, but why is it so much more than that when it slips off his lips? His voice is almost as breathless as the last time she saw him at the lake. 𝓐𝓵𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She forces herself to turn around, despite every nerve in her body screaming to keep going. The vivid blue of his eyes shatters the walls she worked so hard to create around her heart. He’s here. He’s in front of her. But he’s not the same boy that left. He’s not a boy at all. And she is no little girl.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀So why does she feel so small and trapped in his gaze?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Hi.” The lopsided curl of his lips beckons her to kiss him again. “You alright?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀And just like that, the feeling is gone. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 ? She could hex him then and there. But she won’t. The familiar icy calm creeps over Victoire’s body. Her commanding posture and isolating glare take over in ways hurting someone with magic never can.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Excuse me, Professor Lupin?” she tries to say his title with as much venom as she can. Years of heartbreak and anger make her hot and heavy, but Victoire did not curate her perfect image only to lose it in an outburst with a new professor. Even if it’s him. Even if it’s her Teddy. His smile wilts. “Of course I’m alright,” Victoire lays her polished charm on thick. A coy grin lights up face but never reaches her piercing eyes. “Perhaps you’re the one that is lost.” She lets it hang in the air to torture him, and just when he opens his mouth to reply, Victoire cuts him off.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“It has been so long since you’ve been here, hasn’t it? Although I can hardly remember it.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀It’s a lie, and they both know it. Regardless of the 1,000 days that had passed since the last time Victoire and Teddy had been together, she can picture it in crushing detail. She spent three years trying to forget the way he made her feel, in hopes the abandonment wouldn’t leave the hole in her heart such a wide chasm forever. But she can’t deny the damage already done. Permanently done. She used to think the time apart would heal something, but seeing him like this, Teddy acting so casually, only confirms her deepest fears. It hurts all over again.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She never meant anything to him.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Yeah...it’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀A ludicrous question, almost as bad as his first. Victoire holds her composure, but her eyes burn. She has never cried in front of anyone. Not since her childhood. Not since the walls of Beauxbatons taught her how to be strong in front of others. The price that you paid when you couldn’t was too high. She can’t bear it. Not in front of him. He keeps her from having to reply, which is perhaps for the better. All she wants to do is hit him across his stupid . . . beautiful . . . no, annoying face.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Vic . . . I’m . . .”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She doesn’t care what he has to say, doesn’t care about the nickname she only ever let him use. She’s already decided nothing can change what happened. What he did.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I’m really happy to see you.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀It’s another nail in the coffin of her heart.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Teddy keeps rambling as if his words can fill the space of time that he should have been there for her. “I know I left in a hurry, but I can explain. Please if you'll just let explain . . .”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The world starts to take place again as he looks around. It may have felt like they left everything behind, as if it were just the two of them alone again, but the throng of students is still milling about. A few are even daring to watch a little, perhaps with too-keen an interest. Better for him that they aren’t alone. Victoire would never have been so pleasant unless her reputation was at stake. She crosses her arms across her chest. She doesn’t want to hang on his every word. If he can leave her without a second thought, can’t she pretend to not care what he has to say? She feigns boredom and lets the harsh emotions finally fall from her face. The threat of tears, thankfully, disappears too. She is as she has always tried to be. Emotionless. Cold. If he thinks she will wait eagerly for his every word, then he has become as foolish as the Americans he studied with.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Look, I made plans to meet with Bash and Veronica at June’s, so, if you’d like to come . . . I’d really like to explain myself . . . please . . . ”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She wants to laugh. She wants to make a joke. 𝓢𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓪 𝓖𝓻𝔂𝓯𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓻 𝓷𝓸𝔀, 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮 ? But that’s not the Victoire that she has built for Hogwarts, for her own sanity.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“You buying me a pint that you get for free from Veronica isn’t the kind of apology I’m looking for, Tedd — Edward. Professor.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She almost holds her composure, but nearly saying her old nickname for him cuts her resolve. There it is. A softening. His endless effect on her. Against her will, her hand starts to reach out for him. It almost feels like she can let it all go just for a moment.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“IIIIIITTTTT’SSSSS TEEEEDDDDDD!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀But she can’t. Not like this.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀A hurricane crashes behind Teddy, lurching him forward into a headlock. James has always liked to bring him down 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓵. “Can’t wait to have that guaranteed O, am I right, Victoire?” he gushes, completely unaware of the tension he just broke. Though James’ question is for his cousin, it is his god-brother that holds his unraptured attention. Victoire, however, is only grateful for his interruption. She wouldn’t want to do something she would regret. She made a point to never like Teddy’s Instagram photos, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen them. Seen 𝓱𝓮𝓻. It was clear that Teddy didn’t spend any lingering time with Victoire on his mind.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She takes the opportunity for the distraction and slips away. The excited droll of James drowns out the sounds of her retreat. “Ted, mate, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you! I begged dad to let me see you, but he wouldn’t let me! Having me there would distract you from your studies? Bollocks, am I right? Anyways . . . ” His voice cuts out as she rounds the corner, and Victoire lets out the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Just as relief begins to settle in, an old but all-too-familiar vibrate spins from her phone. 𝓘𝓽 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓫𝓮 ! She slips it from her robe pocket. The dreaded gossip machine hasn’t been on her phone for a year, but that doesn’t change the notification somehow glaring at her from the screen.

𝒲𝑒𝓁𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒, 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒲𝒾𝓏𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒶𝓉 𝐻𝑜𝑔𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈.
𝒟𝒾𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒶 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 ?
𝒮𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓃𝒶𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓉𝑒. 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔.
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰.
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝔁𝓸, 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓻

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Her heart falls through her stomach. The few students around her are looking equally as terrified at their devices. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓻 is back. She tries to quell the rising panic. 𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮. 𝓘𝓽 𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝔀. Victoire slips the phone back into place to act as if nothing happened. She will not be publicly phased. Nothing shatters her grace and poise. With her head held high, Victoire continues in the direction of the upper-level apartments. Although if anyone were looking close enough, they might notice that the walk back is more urgent than her usual elegance.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She is relieved that Farhiya is nowhere to be found in their shared space. All the better. Victoire wants to scour the site privately. It feels like falling back into an addiction as she scrolls through the feed, flinching at the bad news from others that catches her eye. She doesn’t want to read them all. She doesn’t want to know. But she can’t help the fear that anything of hers has ended up in the hands of the evil algorithm and could take her perfectly-built status quo away from her. She can’t have this and Teddy all in one . . . 𝓢𝓣𝓞𝓟.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀There it is, mocking her. The second post about Victoire Weasley ever.

𝓕𝓪𝓾𝔁-𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂
𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒲𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓁𝑒𝓎 ? 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓃𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓈
𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒, 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝒷𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝑒𝓇
𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐻𝑜𝓉 𝒢𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓌𝒶𝓎. 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈
𝒷𝓎 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒹 . . . 𝒪𝒽 𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓉, 𝓈𝒽𝑒'𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝓊𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉
𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓃. 𝒲𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔.
𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝓎𝑒 𝒿𝑜𝒷 𝒾𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She hasn’t cried in years, but for the second time on the same day, her eyes start to pool with tears. Although harmless on the surface, the post berates one of her oldest and deepest insecurities. Victoire doesn’t belong, even with her own family. She is doomed to be a hopeless wanderer. Nothing meaningful. No passionate connections. No one to truly be herself with.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀”Pull it together.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Her own harsh voice surprises her, but it’s true. She is better than this. Victoire descends to her vanity, determined to turn the post in her favor like she always swore to herself she would. She holds back any pathetic emotion, sits up as straight as she can, and dares her reflection to defy her. Victoire has been lying for years. She knows the red hair is a small ruse. While she never outright said it was natural, she never wanted it to seem like it wasn’t either. There is only one thing she can do.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Count from three,” she whispers with her eyes shut tight. It’s her father that comes to her mind. It’s his belief and love that soothes her. And Uncle Charlie. She remembers all the times he was so proud of her. For being brave. She can do this. For them. For herself. Their voices say the chant together:

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Three,
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀Two,
⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀One!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Instead of her body, it is her dread that apparates now. The Victoire who opens her eyes again is no longer afraid. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓻 post . . . it is an inconvenience. Little more than a minor embarrassment that she can take in stride, especially considering how much juicier content is splayed out for the students to gossip about. No, that little secret alone isn’t the reason she finds herself grabbing her wand to undo an old, familiar spell.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Colovaria,” she whispers, and the tendrils of crimson that frame her face suddenly shine in Victoire’s natural blonde. Still, she keeps it a bit darker than her Veela roots are known for; she doesn’t want that kind of trouble of that variety on her hands. At least not yet.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀As she gazes into the mirror, the girl she has been afraid of for so many years looks back. Not a redhead. Not a tanned goddess. Not a Weasley.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Just a Victoire.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Except there was no such thing as 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 a Victoire. Not anymore.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Her signature bright smile is back, and she confidently gets up from the chair. She will continue with her first-day plan. This changes nothing. Her towering red-bottom stilettos carry out of her room with such confidence and grace that she can almost forget that her life was ever different than this.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The blonde hair is more than a new look. It is about coming to terms with the truth. It is about embracing herself.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀And maybe, just maybe, a part of it is for 𝓱𝓲𝓶.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Looking every bit like a girl from a dream, won’t Teddy have to look twice?