![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
author_by_nightJK Rowling's Quidditch stuff has made a drabbler out of me.
Also, any French errors are mine alone, and not the fault of internet translating. So do forgive me, but let me know too so I can fix them! My French is is tres mauvais.
Victoire didn't want anyone to see her cry. She didn't want to cry at all.
She should have known this was coming; she'd always known she was different, and according to Maman, different wasn't always welcomed.
"It is good to be different," Fleur had said, "but some people don't see it quite that way. When they find out about your heritage, they may say mean things. Victoire, ma petite fille...pay them no mind."
Victoire had been eight; she didn't understand what exactly her mother meant. "So if someone calls me stinky or something?"
Fleur shook her head. "It's not that simple. You'll understand someday."
Someday, apparently, was today.
"Stand tall," Victoire told herself firmly. But she could feel them coming; she held onto her strawberry blonde hair tightly, as though it might help...
"Are you okay?"
Victoire had been looking at the ground; tilting her head up, she saw Teddy Lupin looking back at her.
She knew Teddy fairly well; he was her Uncle Harry's Godson, after all, and her parents had been good friends with his, so they felt obliged to have him over for dinner now and then. Victoire had always looked up to him.
"Yeah," Victoire said quickly. She didn't want a third year, of all people, to see her crying. Even a third year she knew well - especially a third year she knew.
"Are you sure?" Teddy was peering at her closely, his hand on the wall, one leg crossed over the other.
Victoire looked at Teddy's blue hair. He didn't have to have blue hair; it could be any color he wanted. Yet he so often made it blue, or red... he sometimes wore it pink or purple, but it made people think of his Mum, and they always got sad and quiet when they thought of his parents. Of course, brown hair posed the same conundrum, making people think of his father. Teddy had told her all of this one time, probably figuring she'd forget. But Victoire didn't forget things like that.
"How do you do it?" Victoire asked. "Wear your hair so many different colors?"
"For a long time, I couldn't even control it. Then it just became second-nature."
"Samantha Smith called me a freak," Victoire blurted, starting to cry.
"What?"
"i - I told her Maman's part Veela, and she said... she said they used to s-seduce men and that I was a freak, and she knew I'd made the boy she f-fancies not like her on purpose..."
Victoire wiped her eyes; when she looked back at Teddy, she almost jumped; he looked nothing short of furious.
"Victoire," Teddy said, his voice very low, "you are not a freak."
"B-but what if it's true?"
"-oh, rubbish!" Teddy burst. "It's all rubbish. Look, you think Metamorphmagi haven't done their fair share of wrongdoing? Sam the Shifter? You think it didn't take a very bad werewolf to make my father, who was a good man, a werewolf himself? Our parents are - were - good people, despite their associations with people who weren't. We are good people."
Victoire hiccoughed. "It's just... normally I'm so proud of being part-Veela. Now I feel ashamed."
"Do you think I should be ashamed, Victoire?"
"What? No!" Victoire shook her head frantically. "I've always thought you were really cool! And from the stories I hear, it sounds like your parents were funny. Good funny, not... freak funny."
"Then why on earth would you feel that way about yourself because of what some stupid first year says?"
"I'm a first year," Victoire pointed out.
"Then you should be proud that you're already smarter than she is."
Victoire hadn't anticipated a Rita Skeeter article revealing to the world that she and Teddy were dating. She'd intended on relaying the news a little more gently.
"Of course," Bill said as he put the paper down, "I know it's not true.'
Dominique, who already knew because little sisters had a knack for finding out the things you did not want them to find out, burst into a fit of giggles, and no amount of kicking her shins would stop it.
"Or is it?" Bill asked.
Victoire glared at Dominique. "It's true.'
Bill looked hesitant. "Well, you are almost fifteen, as hard as it is for me to accept that. Just - tell me the snogging part, at least, wasn't true."
"Oh, of course not," Victoire said.
Dominique laughed very hard this time, sliding off the chair onto the floor. Victoire wondered if her parents would mind having one less daughter.
Victoire was thrilled to have finally spotted Viktor when he wasn't being followed by fans, reporters or his teammates. Better yet, she was alone too.
"Uncle Viktor!" Victoire threw her arms around him, forgetting she would be fifteen in September and therefore much too old to behave this way. Viktor happily hugged her back.
They'd always had a peculiar relationship, but of course, so had Viktor and Fleur. The two had become friendly at Hogwarts, and after that they became penpals of a sort. Victoire was, in part, named after him, having also been named after their victory in the war. Viktor was like Charlie, who'd moved back to Romania about two or three years after Victoire was born - a close but distant uncle she knew mostly from Floo and letters, but felt no less close to than the uncles she saw on a regular basis.
"I was just coming to see your parents," Viktor said with a grin. "How do you think I'm doing?"
"Oh, you are doing wonderfully," Victoire said. "Of course, I'm not rooting for you."
"You're not?!"
"That would be nepotism!" Victoire explained.
Viktor laughed. "You are your mother's daughter. Where is she, anyway?"
Victoire led the way.
Also, any French errors are mine alone, and not the fault of internet translating. So do forgive me, but let me know too so I can fix them! My French is is tres mauvais.
Victoire didn't want anyone to see her cry. She didn't want to cry at all.
She should have known this was coming; she'd always known she was different, and according to Maman, different wasn't always welcomed.
"It is good to be different," Fleur had said, "but some people don't see it quite that way. When they find out about your heritage, they may say mean things. Victoire, ma petite fille...pay them no mind."
Victoire had been eight; she didn't understand what exactly her mother meant. "So if someone calls me stinky or something?"
Fleur shook her head. "It's not that simple. You'll understand someday."
Someday, apparently, was today.
"Stand tall," Victoire told herself firmly. But she could feel them coming; she held onto her strawberry blonde hair tightly, as though it might help...
"Are you okay?"
Victoire had been looking at the ground; tilting her head up, she saw Teddy Lupin looking back at her.
She knew Teddy fairly well; he was her Uncle Harry's Godson, after all, and her parents had been good friends with his, so they felt obliged to have him over for dinner now and then. Victoire had always looked up to him.
"Yeah," Victoire said quickly. She didn't want a third year, of all people, to see her crying. Even a third year she knew well - especially a third year she knew.
"Are you sure?" Teddy was peering at her closely, his hand on the wall, one leg crossed over the other.
Victoire looked at Teddy's blue hair. He didn't have to have blue hair; it could be any color he wanted. Yet he so often made it blue, or red... he sometimes wore it pink or purple, but it made people think of his Mum, and they always got sad and quiet when they thought of his parents. Of course, brown hair posed the same conundrum, making people think of his father. Teddy had told her all of this one time, probably figuring she'd forget. But Victoire didn't forget things like that.
"How do you do it?" Victoire asked. "Wear your hair so many different colors?"
"For a long time, I couldn't even control it. Then it just became second-nature."
"Samantha Smith called me a freak," Victoire blurted, starting to cry.
"What?"
"i - I told her Maman's part Veela, and she said... she said they used to s-seduce men and that I was a freak, and she knew I'd made the boy she f-fancies not like her on purpose..."
Victoire wiped her eyes; when she looked back at Teddy, she almost jumped; he looked nothing short of furious.
"Victoire," Teddy said, his voice very low, "you are not a freak."
"B-but what if it's true?"
"-oh, rubbish!" Teddy burst. "It's all rubbish. Look, you think Metamorphmagi haven't done their fair share of wrongdoing? Sam the Shifter? You think it didn't take a very bad werewolf to make my father, who was a good man, a werewolf himself? Our parents are - were - good people, despite their associations with people who weren't. We are good people."
Victoire hiccoughed. "It's just... normally I'm so proud of being part-Veela. Now I feel ashamed."
"Do you think I should be ashamed, Victoire?"
"What? No!" Victoire shook her head frantically. "I've always thought you were really cool! And from the stories I hear, it sounds like your parents were funny. Good funny, not... freak funny."
"Then why on earth would you feel that way about yourself because of what some stupid first year says?"
"I'm a first year," Victoire pointed out.
"Then you should be proud that you're already smarter than she is."
Victoire hadn't anticipated a Rita Skeeter article revealing to the world that she and Teddy were dating. She'd intended on relaying the news a little more gently.
"Of course," Bill said as he put the paper down, "I know it's not true.'
Dominique, who already knew because little sisters had a knack for finding out the things you did not want them to find out, burst into a fit of giggles, and no amount of kicking her shins would stop it.
"Or is it?" Bill asked.
Victoire glared at Dominique. "It's true.'
Bill looked hesitant. "Well, you are almost fifteen, as hard as it is for me to accept that. Just - tell me the snogging part, at least, wasn't true."
"Oh, of course not," Victoire said.
Dominique laughed very hard this time, sliding off the chair onto the floor. Victoire wondered if her parents would mind having one less daughter.
Victoire was thrilled to have finally spotted Viktor when he wasn't being followed by fans, reporters or his teammates. Better yet, she was alone too.
"Uncle Viktor!" Victoire threw her arms around him, forgetting she would be fifteen in September and therefore much too old to behave this way. Viktor happily hugged her back.
They'd always had a peculiar relationship, but of course, so had Viktor and Fleur. The two had become friendly at Hogwarts, and after that they became penpals of a sort. Victoire was, in part, named after him, having also been named after their victory in the war. Viktor was like Charlie, who'd moved back to Romania about two or three years after Victoire was born - a close but distant uncle she knew mostly from Floo and letters, but felt no less close to than the uncles she saw on a regular basis.
"I was just coming to see your parents," Viktor said with a grin. "How do you think I'm doing?"
"Oh, you are doing wonderfully," Victoire said. "Of course, I'm not rooting for you."
"You're not?!"
"That would be nepotism!" Victoire explained.
Viktor laughed. "You are your mother's daughter. Where is she, anyway?"
Victoire led the way.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-07-12 03:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-12 03:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-12 03:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-12 03:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-12 03:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-12 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-12 05:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-12 03:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-12 01:17 pm (UTC)Victoire wondered if her parents would mind having one less daughter.
Hee!
no subject
Date: 2014-07-12 03:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-12 04:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-13 06:04 pm (UTC)Love Uncle Viktor, too - it makes sense for there still to be a connection there.