Challenge #77: Next Generation
Title: The Second of May
Rating/Warnings: PG, for one mild swear word, I guess.
Characters/Pairing: Victoire, George Weasley
Summary: It's Victoire's 17th birthday, but it's also the 20th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Everybody deals with it a bit differently.
Word Count: 1006
Registered purchases?: None.
Victoire was feeling slightly suffocated in the kitchen of the Burrow, which was packed full of people, most of them underage. There was her sister, Dominique and her brother, Louis, her nine Weasley cousins (including Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's kids), Beatrice Longbottom, and the Lovegood boys, who were the youngest, not to mention all their parents, and some more family friends, like McGonagall and Hagrid. It was Victoire's 17th birthday - the day she was officially an adult, and could use magic without the Trace bothering her.
She was picking at a slice of chocolate cake, one of four different cakes that had been made, and wondering how to escape for a little bit. She looked over to where Ted was talking to Lorcan and Lysander, and tried to catch his eyes, but he seemed wrapped up in telling them a story that appeared to have something to do with a hag, a Dementor, and a dragon, from what she could gather from his body language and hand motions. The boys were staring up at him with wide eyes, clearly fascinated. It was probably some wildly exaggerated story from his Auror training. She frowned, realizing she was not going to get his attention. Damn.
Setting down her slice of cake on the chair she was sitting on, she slipped behind Louis and Lily, who were having an animated discussion about whether the Harpies or the Tornadoes were a better Quidditch team, and headed for the door, quickening her step before anybody noticed where she was going. It was unnecessary, because everybody was wrapped up in their own conversation, or, in Grandpa Weasley's case, leaning back in a chair and snoring, his glasses slipping down his nose. Nobody noticed or cared that she was leaving her own party.
Once safely outside, in the garden, where the sun was sinking rapidly and the shadows were growing long, she took a deep breath of the fresh air, and walked along the path to the old apple tree, where there was still a treehouse that Grandpa Weasley, Papa and her uncles had built for Victoire and Teddy, when they were very little. She had some vague idea to climb up in it, and sit for awhile. She hadn't been up there in years, and it would be nice to be there again.
What she found when she reached the top of the hill, however, was her uncle George, leaning against the tree, his head bowed. Of course. His brother, who would have been her Uncle Fred, was buried here. The tree had been planted in his memory. And besides being Victoire's birthday, May 2nd was the day of the last battle at Hogwarts, and the day that Uncle Fred had died. She hesitated at the path, but Uncle George seemed to sense her their, and he looked up, his eyes red.
"It's all right, Vicky," he said, using the hated nickname, the one he used to torment her. She let it slide this time. "Come here."
She did, and looked at him closely. He was still a young man, in wizard terms, but he had streaks of grey in his red hair, and deep laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. He was not laughing now, his mouth twisted into almost a grimace. "I'd forgotten," she said, after a moment, apologetically, nodding to the silver plaque, on a slab of stone, that sat at their feet. "It was today, wasn't it?"
"Early this morning, in fact," he said, his voice a little hoarse. She suspected he had been crying, and was glad he had stopped. She had no desire to see her uncle, usually full of laughter and wit, with tears in his eyes. "Twenty years ago today," he added, looking away from her, off into the distance.
"Twenty years ago?" she said. "I didn't realize. But, of course, it would be. Teddy is 20."
"Exactly right," he said, and they were quiet for a long moment, before he spoke again. "As of today, Fred's been dead longer than he was alive. He had just turned twenty a month before he died." He laughed, a dry, hollow sound, and added, "We didn't have a party. It was wartime, and it didn't seem appropriate."
Victoire frowned, worried that he was somehow bitter about her party. He seemed to sense this, and turned to look at her seriously. "I don't begrudge you this, Vicky. I'm glad we can celebrate now. It's what he died for."
"Does it hurt still as much as it did then?" she asked.
"As much? No. The pain feels farther away now, most of the time. I just wish it wasn't worst on your birthday. My favorite niece should have nothing but joy today."
"I understand," she said. "If Louis were to," she began, and then stopped, not sure if she should continue. Louis was her brother, but he wasn't her twin. It surely wasn't the same. And how could she begin to say she understood his pain? She had never lost anybody, except for Silk, her childhood rabbit, who had died two years ago.
He smiled at her, though, and if it seemed a bit forced, she was hardly going to complain. He cleared his throat, and said in a much brighter voice, "You know what this party is missing?"
"What?"
"Fireworks! Want to help me set off the first one?"
"Shouldn't we wait for the others?"
"Oh, they'll show up when they hear it going off." His eyes regained some of their twinkle. "I'll let you light it - you're legal now, after all."
"That sounds wonderful, Uncle George," Victoire said, sincerely.
"Glad to hear you say it. I've got one of the new dragon ones - better than any of our previous ones. It's a prototype, though, I have to warn you, so be ready with your Aguamenti charm."
"That's what makes it fun!" Victoire said, a grin sneaking onto her face.
George grinned back, a real one this time. "And that's why you're my favorite niece!"
Fi//Hufflepuff
1006/30 = 33.53 = 34 points for Hufflepuff!
Rating/Warnings: PG, for one mild swear word, I guess.
Characters/Pairing: Victoire, George Weasley
Summary: It's Victoire's 17th birthday, but it's also the 20th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Everybody deals with it a bit differently.
Word Count: 1006
Registered purchases?: None.
Victoire was feeling slightly suffocated in the kitchen of the Burrow, which was packed full of people, most of them underage. There was her sister, Dominique and her brother, Louis, her nine Weasley cousins (including Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's kids), Beatrice Longbottom, and the Lovegood boys, who were the youngest, not to mention all their parents, and some more family friends, like McGonagall and Hagrid. It was Victoire's 17th birthday - the day she was officially an adult, and could use magic without the Trace bothering her.
She was picking at a slice of chocolate cake, one of four different cakes that had been made, and wondering how to escape for a little bit. She looked over to where Ted was talking to Lorcan and Lysander, and tried to catch his eyes, but he seemed wrapped up in telling them a story that appeared to have something to do with a hag, a Dementor, and a dragon, from what she could gather from his body language and hand motions. The boys were staring up at him with wide eyes, clearly fascinated. It was probably some wildly exaggerated story from his Auror training. She frowned, realizing she was not going to get his attention. Damn.
Setting down her slice of cake on the chair she was sitting on, she slipped behind Louis and Lily, who were having an animated discussion about whether the Harpies or the Tornadoes were a better Quidditch team, and headed for the door, quickening her step before anybody noticed where she was going. It was unnecessary, because everybody was wrapped up in their own conversation, or, in Grandpa Weasley's case, leaning back in a chair and snoring, his glasses slipping down his nose. Nobody noticed or cared that she was leaving her own party.
Once safely outside, in the garden, where the sun was sinking rapidly and the shadows were growing long, she took a deep breath of the fresh air, and walked along the path to the old apple tree, where there was still a treehouse that Grandpa Weasley, Papa and her uncles had built for Victoire and Teddy, when they were very little. She had some vague idea to climb up in it, and sit for awhile. She hadn't been up there in years, and it would be nice to be there again.
What she found when she reached the top of the hill, however, was her uncle George, leaning against the tree, his head bowed. Of course. His brother, who would have been her Uncle Fred, was buried here. The tree had been planted in his memory. And besides being Victoire's birthday, May 2nd was the day of the last battle at Hogwarts, and the day that Uncle Fred had died. She hesitated at the path, but Uncle George seemed to sense her their, and he looked up, his eyes red.
"It's all right, Vicky," he said, using the hated nickname, the one he used to torment her. She let it slide this time. "Come here."
She did, and looked at him closely. He was still a young man, in wizard terms, but he had streaks of grey in his red hair, and deep laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. He was not laughing now, his mouth twisted into almost a grimace. "I'd forgotten," she said, after a moment, apologetically, nodding to the silver plaque, on a slab of stone, that sat at their feet. "It was today, wasn't it?"
"Early this morning, in fact," he said, his voice a little hoarse. She suspected he had been crying, and was glad he had stopped. She had no desire to see her uncle, usually full of laughter and wit, with tears in his eyes. "Twenty years ago today," he added, looking away from her, off into the distance.
"Twenty years ago?" she said. "I didn't realize. But, of course, it would be. Teddy is 20."
"Exactly right," he said, and they were quiet for a long moment, before he spoke again. "As of today, Fred's been dead longer than he was alive. He had just turned twenty a month before he died." He laughed, a dry, hollow sound, and added, "We didn't have a party. It was wartime, and it didn't seem appropriate."
Victoire frowned, worried that he was somehow bitter about her party. He seemed to sense this, and turned to look at her seriously. "I don't begrudge you this, Vicky. I'm glad we can celebrate now. It's what he died for."
"Does it hurt still as much as it did then?" she asked.
"As much? No. The pain feels farther away now, most of the time. I just wish it wasn't worst on your birthday. My favorite niece should have nothing but joy today."
"I understand," she said. "If Louis were to," she began, and then stopped, not sure if she should continue. Louis was her brother, but he wasn't her twin. It surely wasn't the same. And how could she begin to say she understood his pain? She had never lost anybody, except for Silk, her childhood rabbit, who had died two years ago.
He smiled at her, though, and if it seemed a bit forced, she was hardly going to complain. He cleared his throat, and said in a much brighter voice, "You know what this party is missing?"
"What?"
"Fireworks! Want to help me set off the first one?"
"Shouldn't we wait for the others?"
"Oh, they'll show up when they hear it going off." His eyes regained some of their twinkle. "I'll let you light it - you're legal now, after all."
"That sounds wonderful, Uncle George," Victoire said, sincerely.
"Glad to hear you say it. I've got one of the new dragon ones - better than any of our previous ones. It's a prototype, though, I have to warn you, so be ready with your Aguamenti charm."
"That's what makes it fun!" Victoire said, a grin sneaking onto her face.
George grinned back, a real one this time. "And that's why you're my favorite niece!"
Fi//Hufflepuff
1006/30 = 33.53 = 34 points for Hufflepuff!