Away From It All
The noise was deafening; voices were booming, cutlery was clanging and Victoire could do nothing but sit in silence. Her eyes wandered around the expanse of table, trying to find someone to converse with. Her attempts were futile.
She placed her fork and knife down on her plate and folded her hands in her lap, thinking of a way to stray from her relatives. The toilet? No, she’d have to come back in a few minutes. Want to go home? Everyone would wonder what was wrong.
The Weasley/Potter family was huge, to say the least. With six sets of aunties and uncles there was sure to be a multitude of cousins. Her cousins, each inherently different, all had one thing in common. Their voices. Each louder than the last, it was hard to get a word in edgeways, not that Victoire cared to talk to her relatives. Don’t get her wrong; she loved her family, more than any of them could know.
Victoire was never a social one. From a young age she would play by herself, refusing to talk if anyone came near her. As she got older, she never grew out of her ‘anti-social’ stage, as her mother would call it. Sure, she had plenty of acquaintances, but never a true friend. Not, at least, until Teddy came along. He made her feel sane in a world that was ruled by insanity
It was a light summers evening and Grandpa Weasley had decided to host a muggle barbecue in the garden of the Burrow. Enlisting the help of each of her Uncle’s as well as her father, the men set to work, with the odd helping hand from Aunt Hermione. A thirteen-year-old Victoire sat by the tree that was situated at the back of the Burrow, the hub of family gatherings, observing her younger cousins as they laughed and splashed in the pond to the right of the garden. The adults never questioned Victoire’s hostility; her un-eagerness to communicate with her family was something of the norm within the family. They did try to include her, but after several years of unsuccessful attempts, they reluctantly gave up. The truth was, she was intimidated, Victoire liked her own space and with a family of this capacity, space was at a minimum.
“Maman says you’ve to come play with us, Vic,” a young Dominique stated, an air of superiority surrounding her. Victoire looked at her sister, she looked so much like their mother. Victoire had inherited the Weasley red hair, albeit a more subtle shade. She was the double of her father, but an outcast between her siblings blonde haired beauty.
She lightly shook her head. Dominique shrugged her shoulders, skipping off in the direction she came in.
Again, in her own bubble of silence, Victoire observed the scene that was playing our before her. Aunt Ginny’s laughter rang through the garden as she watched Uncle Ron set fire to the bottom of his trousers. Aunt Hermione and Uncle Harry tried to help him whilst trying to contain their laughter, failing miserably. Victoire chuckled to herself as Grandma Molly finally managed to extinguish the fire, much to Aunt Ginny’s dismay.
An elbow in her side awoke Victoire from her memories, nudging her back into the chaos that was her reality. Everything seemed louder than ever now that drinks were flowing more freely, something that Victoire was not enjoying. Another survey around the table again, came to no avail.
Out of the corner of her eye, Victoire saw the blue haired boy who had also gone rather unnoticed in the mass of Weasley’s. He looked right at her, his head slightly nodded towards the door that entered the Burrow garden. Slowly he rose, again unnoticed and slipped from the table into the cool air of the night.
Pushing her chair back, Victoire rose from the table. The scraping of wood on tile caused her to shudder and the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end.
“I’m just going for –,“ she started, but no one paid her any attention. Quickly and quietly she slid from the table and made her way into the night.
As she closed the door behind her, a pair of warm arms enveloped her from behind, a chaste kiss placed on her cheek.
“I remember when you first kissed me, it was just like now,” she said, snuggling closer into his chest.
Recovered from the fire incident, Uncle Ron went back to the BBQ grill, flipping the burgers that Victoire’s father had put down.
“You always sit alone, Vic. Why don’t you join in with everyone?” Teddy questioned, sitting in the empty space next to her and lent his shoulder on hers. She shrugged her shoulders, a common answer to most questions that were directed at her.
“Come on, won’t you talk to me?” Again with the questions, Victoire thought. He lifted his hand and brushed his fingers across her cheek before planting a kiss where his fingers had once been.
“Find me when you want to talk.” Then he left, joining his godfather in setting up the table. Before he could make it to Harry, a slight hand fell upon his shoulder, delicately pulling him back.
“Wait, Teddy. Stay.” Her soft voice pleaded. Talking shouldn't be so bad, should it?
He quirked his eyebrows in return, a look of surprise covered his face. She looked down at the hem of her dress, something her mother made her wear, a light blush coated her cheeks.
“Ok.” He sat beside her and observed before delicately taking her hand in his.
“Hmm, the young and innocent in love. Were you taking advantage, Mr Lupin?” Victoire joked; she turned in his arms and placed a light kiss on the tip of his nose. From that day onwards, she was never the same around Teddy, she opened up, let him in. He was her escape, a way for her to get away from it all.
“Never. We talked all night and in to the morning, do you remember?” Teddy responded as he played with a strand of her strawberry blonde hair that fell over her shoulder.
“Of course I remember!”
“We kissed for the first time. You know, that's how it feels every time, like it’s the first time. You’re beautiful.” Teddy stated and pulled her into a hug so that his lips were by her ear.
He gently took her by the upper arms and pushed her arms distance away, never once breaking eye contact.
“You're different around them.”
She pondered his statement before opening her mouth to respond. “You make me feel safe, I can be myself around you without being compared. You were always like that, love. So loving and you never compared me to Dom or Rosie.”
He pulled her back towards him, crushing her into his chest. He placed his chin on her shoulder and whispered into her ear.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
This was just a random snapshot I got in my head one night and decided I had to write it. Short but none the less, sweet. I love this pairing so much, it’s cute and they have the ‘fathers bitten by Fenrir’ thing in common. I decided to portray Victoire different from the other depictions of her, as this is genuinely how I see her, shy and intimidated by large groups, Dom is the social one. I just want to take this chance to thank the overwhelming response I got for ‘Francis’; it really was incredible.
Edited 28.08.2011 – Minor grammar fixes + added scenes.
Edited 23.09.2011 – Spelling errors fixed.