𝓥𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓻𝓮 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂 ⋆ 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒮𝒾𝓍

[scorpio]

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝓥𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓻𝓮 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂
𝒪𝒸𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝒮𝒾𝓍𝓉𝒽

𝓘𝓷𝓬𝓵𝓾𝓭𝓮𝓭
ᴄʏʙɪʟʟ, ᴇᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ, ᴠᴇʀᴏɴɪᴄᴀ, ʙᴀsʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀʏᴀɴ
𝓜𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓭
sᴇᴘᴛɪᴍᴜs ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏᴍɪɴɪǫᴜᴇ (ᴛᴇᴄʜɴɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ)
𝓢𝓮𝓽 ⋆ 𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 ⋆ 𝓝𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻

---

[scorpio]

---

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗

---

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Eight o’clock came and went. Victoire was not even close to being ready at the time she had promised. “Eight sharp,” she uses a fake voice to mock herself as the clock on her phone glares the truth at her.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀An hour and half is 𝓯𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓫𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮, right? Hopefully Veronica is already too drunk to notice. Based on previous years, the odds were in Vic’s favor.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Though her stiletto heels protest the descent to the town, the witch refuses to transport herself magically to the party. Sure, most people above seventeen do so once they leave official Hogwarts boundaries. However, you don’t earn abs like hers by apparting to Hogsmeade. And some of the muggle ladies she had partied with in London over the summer always loved to insist that pretty girls in party dresses were immune to the weather. 𝓐 𝓱𝓸𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭, they would proudly sing. Victoire rather likes the muggle they quoted. Cardi B is spunky. The world can always use more of that.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Of course, the fact that walking makes her even later is just an added bonus. After 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓻’s embarrassing post about her inability to convince anyone to join her, Victoire knows that avoiding the small talk at the beginning of the party is an absolute must. She does not need the thin, sober crowd eyeing her with disgust or, even worse, pity. A quarter of the school is already convinced she spends her summers in rehab. 𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽’𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓱, she muses as her walk reaches its end. If anyone knew what had happened to her two summers ago . . .

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Well, it wouldn’t be only odd stares greeting her anymore.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She can never let the truth get out. And because 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓻 is all too good at finding information, Victoire cannot afford for a single soul to know. At least not until she has left this school and some stupid algorithm no longer cares for her existence.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀June’s Berry Bar finally comes into view. A few of its swaggering visitors might whisper about Vic’s inability to have a date, yet that is their problem. They don’t know that she will have one. Not tonight, of course, but just that morning, an ornate piece of paper slipped itself under her door. 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡, it read. 𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑎𝑦. 18:00. 𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Why she has to wear black is a strange mystery, but it is all rather exciting. Victoire is looking forward to this more than she admits to herself.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Septimus’ warm smile swims across her vision. He really has grown up so much. They both have. They’re far from being the troublesome preteens who went out of their way to antagonize each other. Her own grin lights up just thinking of him; she can’t help it. It almost feels like she has the good kind of secret. The one only the two of them share.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓜𝓪𝔂𝓫𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Vic’s entrance to the party is quiet and goes unnoticed, just as she planned. But her beam of happiness does not shine for long. She could have never prepared to see her nightmare scenario the moment she walks through the door.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I'm very proud of you, Edward.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The strange American accent grates through the air. It pulls in all of Victoire’s attention even though she desperately wants to avoid seeing the figure draped over Teddy ━ all intertwined fingers and familiarity and love. Her voice may stick out as foreign, but it’s more than clear that she belongs next to him. The black-haired, elegant woman is picture perfect, just how his Instagram photos warned Vic she would be. And his other two best friends hover close. Everyone he cares for most is right there. She shouldn’t ruin it.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“You've finally managed to establish yourself as an authoritative figure. Your students will respect you a lot more after this. Believe me.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She doesn’t want to be noticed by the birthday girl’s group yet, but Victoire can’t help it. Not after a comment so absurd. A laugh escapes her, and they all turn to look at who would make such an incredulous sound.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Respect? For “Edward?” Because he got a stick up his arse and assigned a positively stupid essay? Respect was the last thing on Victoire’s mind when it came to the man who taught her theory of magic class. She strides over in order to properly insert herself into the conversation; picture-perfect moment be damned.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Last time I checked, all that really happened is that your students found you to be a right old git,” she purrs, more crouching cougar than sweet house cat. She’s vicious. Teddy stares. His eyes warn her: 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓲𝓽. Instead, Vic musters her poshest of British accents. “Not to throw a wobbly, Edward, but don’t you know better? Or do you just get off on being a wanker these days?” Victoire throws a smirk in his direction before leaning over the bar to kiss cheeks with Veronica. “Cheers to you, birthday lovie!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The girl warmly accepts her embrace. “Thanks for making it, princess!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Desperately trying to keep her smile as genuine as possible, Vic pulls away from Veronica to reach a hand out towards the . . . newcomer.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Charmed to meet you. I’m Victoire.” The air crackles with tension.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I know. We’ve met.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Her world loses color, and the high from teasing Teddy crashes down. There is no possibility that she would have forgotten meeting 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 woman, of all people on the planet. Completely infeasible. She wants to wipe the polite leer off her face, but the American continues: “The Bent-Winged Snitches concert. Surely, you must remember . . . it was only a couple of weeks ago.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire chokes down her surprise. “Bent-Winged Snitches concert?” Veronica wordlessly slips her favorite drink into her fingers, but she nearly knocks it over already. “No, no, you’re mistaken. I wasn't even there.” She waves a hand to laugh it off, but a few droplets of her French 75 splash against the other one as it shakes nervously. It’s impossible. She was . . . in London . . . with Jackie . . .

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓼𝓸 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Taking a sip of the drink to save herself more spills, Victoire racks her brain for the truth. Why does it suddenly feel less impossible? Did she really make it all the way back to Hogsmeade?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Cybill’s smug look seems to think she did. “Considering the state you were in that night, it's a surprise you were living in the same universe as the rest of us.” Daggers. Victoire wants to stare daggers through this woman’s very soul { and maybe plunge some through her heart too }, but she forces the anger down, down, down, down . . . Except little can stop her knuckles from going white as they grip the side of Veronica’s bar. She forcibly removes them to keep from breaking open the wood.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I’m Cybill. Edward’s girlfriend.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The moment she has been waiting for. The words she always knew would come.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire blinks once, twice, too many times. 𝓦𝓱𝔂 𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 ? 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝔀, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝔂𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂’𝓭 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵 ?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀It's Beauxbatons all over. Stand up straight. Shoulders back. Perfect smile. Attentive eyes. Every word poised and dripping sweet like honey. “The pleasure is all mine,” she beams. It kills her inside. But she’s fucked something up; she did not graduate from that prestigious French school, after all. Unbeknownst to herself, Vic’s fingers have been playing dangerous games with her cocktail. She didn’t mean to boil the liquid, but between her thoughts running wild about ways to secretly murder someone and trying to maintain composure, the magic slipped away from her. Like a fucking out-of-control child. When did that even happen? How?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The glass burns her touch, but she is too stubborn to let go and admit what has happened. For a moment, she worries that she has caused further problems. Hot air ignites the back of her neck. But no, it is only Bash as he leans in, all too ready to take in everyone’s attention.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Victoire, you’ll never believe what I found! The exact thing you were looking for!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀All of the group’s looks turn quizzical.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀He arches an eyebrow and waits. And waits.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓞𝓱 𝓜𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷. 𝓗𝓮’𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓾𝓽. It’s pathetic and she hates it. But it’s all she has.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“The . . . thing! Of course! Bash, thank you! Where is it?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀He eats it right up. Suddenly he is gripping her shoulders and leading her across June’s Berry. “This way, this way!” he urges, and they leave the group behind. Victoire wants to look back; is Teddy watching her walk away? But she keeps her gaze forward. It’s better not to know.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The second they are out of earshot, she wiggles from his grasp and secretly hides the heated drink on an empty table. “BASH!” she scolds. “A thing? Really? You couldn’t come up with anything better?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀He smiles sheepishly.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Look, you’re lucky I even pulled you away. There’s only one 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 I like seeing more than two sexy ladies fight.” The tension is still built up in Victoire’s body. A small part of her wants to use it all to send him reeling. She crosses her arms to keep from hexing him. “And what is that?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Your pretty face,” he teases. Maybe she should send him packing. “I’d hate to see her scratch it. I live with that woman, you know, and yes, she keeps those claws sharp.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire shoves him for good measure. “Go to hell, Pepper.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀But he only chuckles at her admonishment. “Ooooh, last names. Watch out! Scary Weasley coming through!” Far from being afraid of her, Bash playfully grabs her waist and nudges her towards the corner booth. “You sit tight, far away from any Americans who might throw your tea into the harbor, and I’ll bring us enough alcohol to ━ ” He stops himself to think. “Actually, Vics, you tell me. Are we drinking to not care, or are we drinking to forget?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Bash, I am not trying to blackout ever again!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“So you admit that you blacked out that night!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I didn’t say ━ ”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀He’s already walking away.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Don’t worry. We were gonna drink to forget no matter what you said,” he calls playfully over his shoulder. “And your secret is safe with meeee!” The only thing louder than Normal Bash is Tipsy Bash Pretending to Whisper. Multiple other party-goers send Vic a questioning stare, though none of them have the courage to follow up.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire doesn’t want to think about it, but the intrusive thought pushes itself to the forefront: she’s not old enough to order a drink where Cybill is from. Sure, June’s didn’t exactly worry about carding any of the witches or wizards that found a haven within its walls. But Victoire is not even close.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The realization makes the shots that Bash returns with all the more welcomed. “So, looks like I’m your date after all,” he teases as he slides in across from her. She does not want to talk about 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓻 on top of everything else right now.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I’ll cheers to that,” she smiles. Anything to end the conversation. They clink the two tiny, devilish drinks and knock them back. He’s shoved another between her fingers before she can even wince at the first one burning the back of her throat. Victoire blinks, and there are eight empty glasses on the table in front of her. How did that happen?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Bash’s tolerance is significantly higher. She should absolutely not be doing this . . .

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀But they’re on the dance floor. Her happy place. Victoire doesn’t have to think when she is dancing. She doesn’t have to do anything. She can just be.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Time melts away. She laughs as the two of them twirl about, without a care in the world. When his hips fall in time to hers, she doesn’t pull away. Not like last time. Their bodies, their breathing, their everything ━ it’s all synchronized. Harmonious. This must be the happiest she’s been in a long, long time.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Bash!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The sound of her own voice surprises her. Vic turns to face him, and she doesn’t hate how his hands that once cradled her sides have found their home around the more intimate curves below her waist.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She leans into his ear and wraps her arms around his neck. It’s an excuse to be heard over the music, but he greedily accepts her touch. “What is it, hmmm?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀His eyes stare into hers a little too playfully.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Well, I was wondering if you’d want to get ━ ”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Get out of here together?” he finishes for her.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire playfully hits his shoulder, and he returns the gesture against her ass. “I was going to say get another drink, Bash!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀He doesn’t look disappointed. It was only a joke. One that, sure, he might have been happy to make reality if she played along . . . but there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun. “Lead the way, blondie.” His lips might as well be kissing her neck. The tiny hairs are standing on edge as his whispers tickle against them. It nearly sends chills down her spine.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She uses every ounce of self control to peel away from him, but they interlock pinkies to navigate through the crowd without losing one another. Nic’s 𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓴𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮 birthday party is the exact sort of proper knees-up Vic imagined it would turn into.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“What do ━ ” But Victoire’s jaw falls slack instead of finishing her question. Any concern for Bash’s drink of choice is lost when she makes eye contact with the very man she has been trying to avoid. Her little finger immediately wiggles away from holding Teddy’s . . . best . . . mate . . .

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀They’re so close. She can see every freckle across his nose. Every detail of his bright blue eyes. But 𝓼𝓱𝓮 is too. Right behind him. Holding his hand. Of course she is. Some terrible, stupid slow song is playing, and the golden couple is finally going to the dance floor. Probably to do little more than sway back and forth.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Sure, that’s why it bothers Victoire. It’s so lame to not truly dance. Nothing more than that. But if Bash notices his friend, he doesn’t show any sign of it. He reinforces their connection by taking Victoire’s entire hand. Getting to the bar is supposed to be her job, but one of them is clearly more in charge of their faculties than the other. It’s better this way; she doesn’t have anything to say to Teddy anyway.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The pair find their new safe haven and sit with their elbows against the bar. Though they keep a surprising stillness, the sea of bodies moves in time to the soft melody.

𝑁𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire does not want to listen to the lyrics, but they pierce through her hardened exterior. She hates how her gaze glides to them so easily. Cybill with her back turned to the bar, her body pressed up against him in a warm embrace. Edward with his girlfriend.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire has no right to stare.

𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑. 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Bash works his magic again: there’s a glass in her hand without her having to ask. He scoots his bar stool closer to hers and says something she can’t make out. When their thighs accidentally lean into each other, neither bother to move away. The alcohol burns her throat almost as much as his touch.

𝐹𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She looks back at him. She doesn’t want to, but how can she look away?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀He’s already staring at her. It’s probably nothing more than a fluke ━ a meaningless accident that he found her across the room. Teddy is most likely wondering why she is pathetic enough to watch a man slow dance with his significant other.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Time stops the moment their gaze meets. The connection is hypnotic.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴. She really can see herself falling straight through his eyes. Falling for him. But it’s only a second before Victoire forces herself to look away. Any longer would break her heart. In the bar’s disco light, it almost looked as though Teddy’s hair flushed pink while they looked at each other. It hurts too much to recognize the truth: of courses he isn’t happy about her. If it did actually blush pink, it was for the woman draping her arms around his neck anyway.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She refuses to get caught staring again, but Bash pulls her back in.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“So, Cybill and Teddy . . . ” he muses, just as she takes another drink. He playfully tucks his fingers on the bottom of the glass, forcing her to either finish it all in one go or risk spilling it all over herself. He doesn’t realize how happy she is to have the excuse to chug it. Maybe she really is drinking to forget.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Especially when she can see the couple sharing a kiss out of the corner of her eye.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Do you want a love like that?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The question burns in a million ways that Bash could never understand. 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 ━ as in with a guy who was capable of completely abandoning someone when they finally connected? 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 ━ as in with a guy who would nearly kiss another girl at a greenhouse in the middle of the night?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire does not even know how to begin to answer, but, mercy on Merlin, she doesn’t have to. Billie Eilish’s voice is miraculously replaced by the iconic melody of David Bowie’s “Life on Mars.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Finally!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Her neighbor bursts from his chair. “Don’t bother!” Bash yells, answering his own question. Has that microphone always been in his pocket? “You should really wish for a love like ours!” He runs up behind Teddy and wrestles him into a head-lock.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“KARAOKE TIME!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀His howl devours the room.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“THIS ONE IS FOR YOU, BIRTHDAY GIRL!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀And though the two boys look every bit a drunken mess, Victoire cannot help it. She does wish she had a loving friendship like that. But she doesn’t stay to watch them serenade Veronica. In her drunken haze, it all feels a little too much. She finds refuge with a random girl she has enjoyed a class or so with throughout the years. Her name is on the tip of her tongue ━ Rachel? Riley? No, wait. It’s Ryan.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Fancy a drinking game?” the blonde ventures. The bar has a few tucked away in the corner. It takes a moment of hesitation, but the Hufflepuff eventually laughs. “Might as well. Let me get my friends and another round. Then you’re on.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire did not realize she was holding her breath until she lets it go. It’s a miracle that Ryan has accepted her rather odd invitation. But isn’t every girl a friend of one another when they are pissed? She doesn't realize the favor she is doing the Veela as they whisk each other away from the singing madness. Vic has already watched Teddy be in love with someone for one song; she really can’t sit through another.

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

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀After losing a million rounds of darts to Ryan Boot and her friends, Victoire takes refuge in the corner. The night of socializing constantly is a bit much for her introverted nature. Bash, however, pops up from nowhere and waves her over, but she shakes her head no. His saddened eyes look her up and down. Back up. Back down. They’re ravenous. It’s . . it’s what she is used to.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀He beckons her forward again. The life of an extrovert knows no such sympathy.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Another no.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Vic’s stubbornness wins the fight.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Bash is not walking towards her; it’s a complete drunken swagger. Though he is still coherent enough, the twinkling in his eye confuses her. But things become all too clear when he playfully slides up against her. Her drink falls to the ground, forgotten and useless. She doesn’t really need more anyway.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀For once, the Veela is caught off guard. His body pressed against hers is welcome and familiar. His hands teasingly find the small of her waist and play a dangerous game with her dress. It is already terribly short. If he bunches it up any further . . . well, even in this state, Bash knows exactly what he’s doing.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Where have you been?” Victoire taunts. “I nearly forgot that you existed.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀One hand leaves her side and slides up her body. It takes an authoritative hold of her chin as he looks deep into her eyes. “Is that a challenge to make myself more memorable, Weasley?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Breathing becomes impossible. He’s stunned Victoire into complete silence, and his victorious smirk damn well knows it. She’s gobsmacked.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀One, two, three . . . she can’t help but count how long he stays so close. It’s intoxicating. He has clearly won round two of their stand-off.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀But he lets her go. 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂. She struggles to find air without Bash’s chest against her own. Was it that easy to fall in time with his rhythm? A small chuckle escapes him as Vic still tries to recover her faculties. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m only here to chat.” She flinches involuntarily, though Vic can't explain why being called that feels so out of place.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀He slides into the same corner booth they had occupied earlier. This time he pats the spot next to him instead of letting her take her place across. His grin looks innocent, but his eyes sparkle with mischief.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire takes the bait. Her body once again hums to life as it comes into contact with his.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“So, tell me about yourself . . . ” he invites. “All those years hanging around each other, but I feel like you and me didn’t talk as much as we should’ve. At least not alone.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She wonders if he can hear her heart raging in her chest. What could she possibly tell about herself that wouldn't send just about anyone packing?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Victoire.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀His voice is oddly tender. So unlike the goofy, self-assured playboy she has always known him to be. The confidence he radiates gets replaced by something completely unrecognizable on him. Is Bash really so drunk that his personality has changed?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I’m sorry for what 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓻 has done to you lately. It’s not fair.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀It sounds like he means it. Like he actually cares.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀So, naturally, Victoire tries to dismiss him. Her hands do all the talking for her in little waves, but Bash catches one with his own. “It does it to everyone. I’m nothing special,” she insists. “People are often too wrapped up in what it says about them to even read what it says about others. I’m sure hardly anyone noticed . . . ”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀It’s denial; Victoire has felt the judgmental looks coming her way. What was once admiration seemed to be clouded with distrust more and more. But she can’t blame them. They may not know the truth, but they are right to be wary of her. She has done plenty of things to make her worth distrusting.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Bash tries to catch her direct attention. She can feel his not-so-ocean eyes searching her face for any clue, any real emotion. Victoire hates it, but she breaks. He may not inspect her with baby blues, but the swirling complexities of caramel and dark chocolate still look right through her. They're beautiful. 𝓘𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 ? 𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓸𝓾𝓽 ?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Bash . . . ” Victoire hesitates. The alcohol burns her judgment to a crisp. There’s no reason to keep up these walls. She never should have built them in the first place. “I have always let people say whatever they wanted.” A pause. Her last chance to keep it inside. But there are too many secrets hidden in her chest. At least one of them, one of the smaller ones, has to come out. To give her room to breathe again. “Say anything about why I left Beauxbatons. Because it didn’t matter. None of it mattered . . . ”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She looks down at their hands still brushed up against one another.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“What happened?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire takes one more deep breath.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“They were cruel. The other students. I was a social pariah. Bullied so badly that I,” her voice breaks, just like she did all those years ago in that school. He wraps her in a warm hug. It isn’t sexual. It isn’t charged. He simply holds her. “I know exactly how you feel,” he whispers as he strokes her hair. “But we aren’t those people anymore. No one can make us victims anymore.” Bash doesn’t say what happened to him, why he can relate all too well to her words. But she can feel it. He has been there too.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She has no idea how long they’re there, intertwined. It could be hours. It could be thirty seconds. Somehow both would make perfect sense. Except, eventually, the music changes tune, and an egregious techno beat interrupts the lull of their synchronized heartbeats. Vic forces herself to pull away. The edge of the booth bench hangs ominously near as she scoots further back.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I think I should maybe go.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Bash’s wistful look turns sour.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Excuse me? Go? You can’t! I’ve just found you!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀It doesn’t make sense. His lips haven’t moved.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Then new arms envelope her from behind. In her drunken stupor, Victoire did not realize that Veronica had sneaked up behind her. Reality is starting to slowly come together, but it’s all a bit fuzzy. The true consequences of the alcohol are beginning to catch up.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“My people! My cuties! I’ve been looking for you! The birthday girl! Me! You must tend to me!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Vic spins up and lands on her high heels, more balanced than her true inebriation levels should normally allow. “I just meant to the loo, Nic. Of course I won’t leave your party!” It’s a lie. Bash knows it, but he doesn’t rat her out.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Nic wraps her even tighter for a second before mercifully letting go. “Just come back to me after, princess.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She’s already spinning away. “Bash, go get me another gin from the back!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀He only mildly protests with a raised eyebrow in Vic’s direction.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“The things I do for my mother.”

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

[scorpio]

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire stumbles out of the bathroom. The booth in the corner is currently occupied by some couple passionately making out. Bash and Veronica are nowhere to be found. It’s not like she expected them to wait around for her; however, she can’t see them anywhere now. Vic hates that little part of her that wishes they had hung about one moment for her to return. But it was too much for her to ask that from anyone. She is the kind of person . . . you just . . . leave behind . . .

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀A strange buzz draws her attention back in.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓞𝓸𝓸𝓸𝓱, 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮! 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓪 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓲𝓷𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 . . . 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓪 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝔂 . . .

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Wait, she has one of those! It is her phone that made such a sound!

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Vic fights against the zipper to reach her device. When it refuses to budge, a hiss escapes from her mauve-colored lips. “𝒜𝓁𝑜𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑜𝓇𝒶!” her fingers are twisting and the spell is slipping through the air in her own voice before she knows to stop herself. But it fizzles uselessly against her foe. 𝓤𝓷𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 and 𝓾𝓷𝔃𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 aren’t quite the same.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Sulking in defeat, Victoire melts into one of the stools in the corner. The wall is a welcome friend. She is awash with peace the moment her head leans against it. Some of the party’s disco lights still filter through her closed eyes, and the loud music still thuds in time with her heart. But all she can focus on is the tingle of the cold drywall against her shoulders and the smooth silk of her white dress hugging her body tight.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓣𝓮𝓭 . . . 𝓣𝓮𝓭 . . . 𝓣𝓮𝓭 !!

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I always preferred Teddy,” Vic giggles. “Oops!” Hearing her own voice out loud catches her off guard; that was supposed to be in her head, along with her other thoughts of Teddy. A hiccup rocks her delicate balance. The sudden movement nearly knocks her off her stool, causing her to descend into more laughter, but no one notices the mishap. They’re all . . . starring. At something else entirely. Her confusion follows their enraptured attention.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Ted!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Oh.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Vic is not chanting his name in her head after all. It’s Bash. Out loud. By the bar.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀And yes, there he is. The "professor" is grasping a red cloth like a lifeline.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓗𝓮𝔂, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓵'𝓼 . . . 𝓷𝓸𝓽 . . . 𝓻𝓮𝓭 . . ?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Her mind is reeling as she tries to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 . . . 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓮 . . . 𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 ?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“TE ━”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Bash and Veronica’s cries are drowned out as the bar’s front door bangs closed behind Lupin. Without hesitation, Nic moves to run out after him. At least she wants to, until someone beats her to it. How is she so close? Victoire doesn’t remember getting up and walking, but she is already halfway across June’s Berry.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Let me take care of it.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Each girl is surprised by how sober Victoire sounds. However, her actions spill her secret. Both hands cup the owner’s cheeks as she presses a kiss on her forehead. “Birthday girls don’t play mummy tonight,” she coos. 𝓐𝓵𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽, 𝓼𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 . . . but Veronica isn’t exactly in a place to argue either.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She leaves before anyone can reason with her; although with the determined look she gave, no one wants to anyway.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The cold breeze nips at her exposed nose, fingers, legs, elbows, shoulders. { Does this mean a hoe 𝓬𝓪𝓷 get cold? Or that Victoire simply is not hoe enough for her immunity? } She stops just outside the doorway, but it is not the weather that freezes her in her tracks. Before her eyes, Teddy drops to the ground, against the furthest wall, in utter despair.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀He is everything she knows he is not. Vulnerable. Closed off. Broken. She remembers feeling that way. The hollow emptiness of the world resting on your shoulders. Your mind in another place and time. Breathing doesn’t save you. Your lungs are filling with anything but air. Nothing can save you.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀It’s everywhere ━ the blood, the sheer panic. His navy shirt can hide it well, but little splatters haunt his light hair and pale skin. One leg is crumpled out in front of him in defeat while the other, half-bent, burrows his arms in tighter. He’s holding his hand close like it’s the only thing grounding him to reality.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀It probably is.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀What Victoire wouldn’t do to take it all away from him. Make the pain disappear. Take it on to herself and give him nothing but happiness, happiness, happiness . . . Would she do 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓲𝓽 again? Those horrible, dark days where it seemed her life would be over forever?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Teddy whimpers.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Of course she would. 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓯 𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓪𝓼𝓴. 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓮𝓵𝓼𝓮.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀A shiver threatens to erupt across her exposed limbs. Well, Vic might not be dressed very appropriately for the October chill, but it doesn’t matter now. Her fingers curl into her bun to fetch her wand. One swish of the hot-air charm, and she will be set for a few minutes at least.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Tsk, tsk,” her logic reminds her. Blasting her tiny dress with a warm gust of wind is far from the best idea she has had all night. { But, unfortunately, not her worst either. }

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Vic?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Shit!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀This isn’t how she wanted to approach him in the slightest. His voice is laced with pain. Another piece of her heart breaks. Without thinking, Vic’s fingers retrieve her wand after all. Though her hair falls in messy ringlets down her back without its proper pin in place, she strides forward. The world spins as she gets closer. Is it the alcohol or how she hasn’t been alone with him in weeks?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽, she chides. He is clearly injured and needs healing magic. It must be a terrible injury for him to have reacted so . . .

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Teddy seems so small. She practically towers above him. And for half a second, she hesitates to descend. Maybe she is not the person who should help him through this.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“What are you ━?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀His voice cracks, and with it, any care for decorum left inside her.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Let me see it . . . ”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire gets down on her knees beside him, and she nudges her way closer. His bent leg only half-protests when both of her own snuggle in beneath. The back of her hand delicately traces circles from his brow, to his cheek, to his jaw . . . Her hands work thoughtlessly; she has calmed enough magical creatures in her time to know you cannot grab straight for the injury. Slowly, softly, sweetly, her fingertips brush their way down to the fist he is desperately clutching to his chest.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Let me help you,” Vic purrs as her hand wraps protectively around his. “I’m right here. Let me help you, baby.” She is unfazed by her own forwardness. It is as natural as breathing. 𝓑𝓪𝓫𝔂.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I . . . ”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀But Teddy falls silent. Though not exactly known for his eloquence in vocalizing himself, Victoire is beginning to get used to it. His eyes say enough ━ the terror, the worry. 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓷 ? She is too focused on him and his hand to notice the blood now transferring to her, marking her skin and clothes alike.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She leans in to get a closer look at the injury. Her tangled, messy hair collapses against him. It is almost as though every piece of her wants to be near him. “I got it,” Teddy whispers before reaching out with his other hand. He gingerly tucks it behind her ear, but the movement brings the treacherous red to her full attention. The cold is forgotten the moment his heated touch brushes softly against her face. She can feel the blood drip from his fingertips against her cheek, like cursed tears. Other beads look like they’re falling into fresh snow as they seep into the satin of her dress.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Panic wants to set in; it’s crouching like a panther in the back of her mind. Any moment and it could attack. Overpower her. 𝓓𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓼 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝔀 ? 𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓼𝓴 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓮𝓵𝓼𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹 ?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀No, she can bear it. She has to hold it together for the both of them. Her gaze finds his own, and it hardens her resolve. But Teddy plays a dangerous game with her: that bright smile of his makes her feel drunk on something entirely different than alcohol.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I broke a glass,” he laments. “Please don’t let Nic murder me later, okay, love ━ ?”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Teddy chokes on the end of his sentence, but Vic, 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮, doesn’t even notice. Once again, it feels too right for them to say these things to one another. Her muted senses accept the term of endearment without question, but the panic in his eyes catches her awareness.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“It must hurt terribly,” Victoire pouts. “Simple 𝑒𝓅𝒾𝓈𝓀𝑒𝓎 and 𝒻 ━ hmm, what is it again? Something like fur ball?” She bites her lip. “I haven’t exactly mastered healing magic.” A shiver runs up and down her body in small waves, but Vic refuses to acknowledge the cold. At least her fingers remain steady against his. She scoots in closer to nestle into his warmth.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“𝐹𝑒𝓇𝓊𝓁𝒶. The spell… it’s called 𝒻𝑒𝓇𝓊𝓁𝒶.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Of course. Only an animal-obsessed fool like Victoire thinks of fur ball instead. She would laugh a bit at her own stupidity if her hazy mind could focus on more than one thing at a time. But her enraptured attention goes to his injured hand alone.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Teddy, maybe you should look away for this. I have to remove the glass before I can use any spell.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The millimeters left between them hum with the energy of a full moon, though for once, neither werewolf child is tortured by its madness.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“That’s alright.” Teddy smiles. “I’ll just look at you.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Victoire would blush if it were not for the alcohol already flushing her cheeks. As she opens his palm, her heart stops at the site of the giant gash littered with a multitude of tiny crystals. He tries to hold in the wince of pain.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓘𝓼𝓷’𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮 ?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀The darkest part of her mind ━ usually locked safely in suffocating darkness by her self-control ━ taunts her.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“No,” she accidentally whimpers as she takes out little flecks of glass. “No one needs to hurt anymore.” Her voice is so soft; if they weren’t so tantalizingly close, he might not have heard. Vic hates the drunken tear that immediately begins to fall from her glassy eyes. She hastily wipes at it with the back of her arm, but she knows Teddy has seen. Perhaps he will have the British decency to pretend he didn’t. However, it is too late for her own decency, as she has mistakenly smeared more blood across her face and through her hair.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She looks wild. Untameable. Terrifying. A goddess of a forgotten and ancient civilization.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Another hiccup takes her by surprise.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓐𝓵𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽, 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓬𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓽.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀At least she was not picking out more glass in that moment. But the remaining flakes are quite troublesome anyway. Victoire’s brows furrow angrily as she tries to piece together an answer amid the slow drunkenness of her mind.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“𝒜𝒸𝒸𝒾𝑜 glass?” Her hands weave their way around in a pattern. She does not like to show off with wandless magic if she can help it, but any reservation evaporates next to Teddy. Vic used to never worry about being herself around him; it’s an easy habit she willingly falls back into. Though he strains with agony, the last of the torturous shards tug gently away from their vicious hold on him and scatter onto the ground.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀An uncontrollable laugh escapes Victoire in relief. She really didn’t think that would work. Teddy’s ragged breath finally finds purchase as he seems to have control of his senses again. The worst of the pain is behind them now.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Shall I get you cleaned up, messy boy?” she hums, quite pleased with the small progress she managed. Her stained finger playfully boops his nose.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“If you insist,” he grins. Vic’s happiness is contagious. She mumbles 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓵 under her breath and aids the bandages in their restoration. This part, wrapping him all up, is the easiest. She’s mended many a wing, talon, and paw with precision. Her instincts take over the work even in her inebriation; Victoire cares for other creatures as easily as she breathes. She cares for Teddy so easily.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀But it’s not enough to keep him.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀He pulls away from her ━ her source of heat, of comfort. “Thank you,” he whispers. Her body aches with emptiness in the places where he used to be. She can’t stop her hand from trailing after him, anything to remain together. All he has done is stand up, but it feels like he is back 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮. Across the ocean. With someone else.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝓥𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓻𝓮, 𝓲𝓼𝓷’𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓮𝓵𝓼𝓮 ?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀And that reminder burns more than any darkness ever has.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“We should probably get back inside. The others might get worried.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She knows he’s right. That doesn’t mean she wants him to be. Vic lets her grasp fall away from him to stand up stubbornly on her own. Her head spins with the motion; she wants to be sick. But not because of the movement. The blood . . . it’s everywhere. It’s disgusting. A small gag builds at the back of her throat. She forces herself to hold it together.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Teddy, Teddy,” she hums. Her tone is abnormally cheerful, trying to mask her nausea. “That’s not what I meant. Look at you. They’ll be more scared when you 𝓭𝓸 go inside.” Victoire reaches out to brush at least a small bit of dirt from his pants. { And she vehemently does not notice how toned he is. } “We look like we’ve been attacked by a ━”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She catches herself.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Even Teddy doesn’t need to know about that yet.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“ ━ a chimaera?” Vic offers, though the lie is delivered pathetically at best.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀He pretends to believe her; Teddy is equally scared of the word she didn’t say. He pushes past it with a dismissive, “Yeah,” and chuckles, as if to pretend they simply share a joke. Not a fear.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Come,” he beckons with his good hand outstretched. “I know a way through the back.” She shouldn’t take it. She knows better, but she does it anyway. Resisting him has never worked before. There’s no point in trying again now.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Teddy leads her through a narrow alleyway. This other entrance doesn’t feel like the only secret they share as she tangles her fingers in between his. Victoire feels hypnotized as she walks behind him, but not in the way she wants. It all seems wrong.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Took you long enough.” Veronica chides the moment they enter through the makeshift pantry. So she’s caught them, hands still clasped. The guilt eats Victoire alive, like Veronica ravishing birthday cake with her bare hands before them. Between more bites, she manages to say, “There’s barely any cake left, so if you want a piece you better hurry.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“I think it’s best if we wash up first,” Teddy grins in her direction. 𝓦𝓱𝔂 𝓲𝓼𝓷’𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓰𝓾𝓲𝓵𝓽𝔂 ? She is too frozen to break their contact, even though being close to him doesn’t feel the same anymore. He’s not warmth. He’s on fire. It burns. 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝔀𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓰. 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓸, 𝓼𝓸 𝔀𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓰. Bash’s smile lights up before her eyes. Septimus is there again, making sure she’s alright. She even thinks of . . . Cybill. Her heart falls through the floor. The calloused hand isn’t Vic’s to hold.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Yeah, not a bad idea. I didn’t wanna say anything at first, but you two look like you’ve just been ravaged by some kind of a wild animal.”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀Veronica’s soothing voice breaks Vic out of her trance. “Speaking of wild animals,” she interjects. It takes all of her control to remove herself from Teddy slowly, while every nerve of her screams to lunge away. 𝓥𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓲𝓻𝓮, 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝔀𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓱. 𝓣𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓱, 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓱, 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓱. 𝓢𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼𝓷’𝓽 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝔂𝓹𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵. 𝓖𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓱𝓲𝓶.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀She steps away and takes out her wand. She needs this spell at full capacity. “𝒯𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝑜!” The blood whips off her body in an overwhelming breeze and pools onto the floor below. “Can I, uh, clean that up later?” she whimpers. “I think that wild animal Bash is gonna be on the hunt for me pretty soon. I promised to show him, well, uh, long story ━ I’ll actually, uh ━ cake. I’m going to get some cake too!”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀“Victoire, don’t worry about the mess. But ━”

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀That small permission is all she needs. If Nic won’t be mad about the blood, everything else can wait. She glances at Teddy one last time before letting the door close behind her. He looks wounded, as if she didn’t help him at all. But she can’t stay. Not like this. Victoire slips back into the room of crowded bodies and mindless music. No one looks twice, but it feels as though all of her sins are written across her body for them to read. Like all the places he touched her are as red as the blood she just cleaned. The chaos is a welcome reprieve. Victoire needs it in order to run away her thoughts, her feelings. Her Teddy.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀There it is again: that buzz. And after applying a bandage, her fingers are finally nimble enough to remember how to open a tricky zipper. A new target falls into sight as Victoire reads the preview message on her screen.

⥽ 𝐻𝑒𝑦, 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐵𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 . . . )

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀And just like that, she knows how to escape.

****pr