#vicannah

261: OliverTerence

       Chasing his dreams takes a giant dose of courage, more than Oliver thinks Gryffindor instilled in him. Quidditch flows through his veins, but there's a big difference between House rivalries and the professional league. That's why few choose it after school.

      The first familiar face he meets is Slytherin's Higgs. Terence is just as stunned to meet him again, here at Puddlemere. He's still got that polite streak that undoubtedly still spills over onto the field, though he grumps a bit, seeing Oliver again. He's at odds with himself—how cute.

      Suddenly, Oliver's a bit more relieved to be here.

262: VictoireHannah

      They are Diagon Alley acquaintances.

      Victoire never planned on being the bride for Teddy that her family hoped she'd be. She loves being independent and managing herself, studying under Malkin's tutelage at the robe shop.

      Hannah and Neville quickly fizzled out, because romantic affections borne of war don't carry a marriage. But taking over the bar from Tom was her mad idea and she's embraced it ever since.

      Victoire's lunches and occasional dinners here with the talented Hannah lead to a relationship borne of kindness and friendship, a bond formed from constantly disappointing those around them…

      …except for one another.

263: RegulusFrank

      You only have a few years left at school. Sirius makes things at home a walk through the Forbidden Forest, and you think you can talk him into behaving. You want to finish school with your brother.

      But Sirius mostly stops talking to you, and it hurts. The Marauders look on, the Prewetts look on, and you struggle to hide yourself in your brother's shadow.

      It's Longbottom who approaches you later, a dopey smile on his round face. He doesn't ask if you need a friend, just greets you with a secret magic—a Frank Longbottom embrace.

      And it heals.

264: LunaBlaise

      It was four in the morning again. Luna knew because she'd taken to securing her watch on her wrist as well as her shoes on her feet before bed. She wondered where her sleepwalking had brought her tonight. A breeze rustled her hair. Ah—the Transfiguration Courtyard.

      "And here I thought I'd seen all the ghosts of the castle," someone murmured off to her left.

      Luna spied Blaise before he slinked out of the shadows. "I assure you I'm as real as you possibly aren't."

      He softly chuckled. "Then care for this specter to join you on your walk back?"

265: AlectoNarcissa

      The Carrow name carried a long history, long enough that Alecto had trouble making friends at school. Amycus loved her, of course, but even younger brothers didn't want to be around their sisters all the time, nor did they stand their sisters' company all the time.

      Yet…as the years went on, Alecto noted that Narcissa Black eventually stopped shying away from her in the Great Hall, occasionally came and sat beside her fellow blonde, making for a rather pleasant (quiet) meal.

      Alecto hadn't had any expectations of anyone until then. But Narcissa was a glimmer of hope for her.

266: TheodoreDraco

      "You're moping around the castle a lot lately."

      "Leave me alone, Nott. Don't raise your eyebrows at me."

      "I did nothing. Come on, Malfoy. Out."

      "What? Why? Where are we going? I mean—where are you taking me?"

      "Stop with the hostility, princeling. You need some air, and you're not going to find it in the dungeons or anywhere in the castle."

      "…"

      "…"

      "…the Viaduct? This was the best you could think of?"

      "It's got fresh air, Draco. So sue me. Just—take it in. …I won't ask what you've been doing in secret, but hopefully your jitters stop."

      "…Theodore. Thanks."

267: AmeliaAlice

      Amelia kisses Alice's hands when they rest on the grass between classes, since Hufflepuff and Gryffindor don't have much overlap in their fifth year. "Just think—another two years and we'll practically be taking over the Ministry," Amelia declares.

      Alice giggles. "Sounds good to me, Ames. You run the place; I'll keep the law and order. Let's say, by the time we're twenty?"

      Amelia barks out a laugh. When she calms, she runs a hand through Alice's short, soft spikes. "And if we don't?"

      "Then a sabbatical to warmer climates, lovely islands. Places for two. Then we conquer the Ministry."

268: HarryCedric

      At the graveyard, things go awry. The spare is never killed, and Voldemort takes Pettigrew out in frustration. Still Harry triumphs in the short term, and he brings Cedric back with him, alive and well.

      It doesn't make the following days, weeks, and months easier. Even with a golden boy like Cedric supporting Harry's claims that Voldemort's back, the Ministry deems them both crazy. On top of it all, what they witnessed and experienced that night—

      When they return to school, Harry leans on Cedric, and Cedric leans on Harry. Trauma brought them together…

      …but it's the "together" that matters.

269: PercyPenelope

      Percy wasn't used to this.

      Penny smiled from across Flitwick's classroom and surreptitiously waved at him with her quill.

      Percy blinked and produced a splotch of ink in his notes. He quickly dabbed at it, feeling his cheeks redden. He'd been allowing more and more of his waking hours to wander these days, all because of one Penelope Clearwater. But he wondered whether it was a bad thing or just… something new.

      Penny was the first time he'd ever been all right with losing focus, with being distracted, and all because of that sweet smile and those dirty–blond curls.

270: LilyLPScorpius

      Truth be told, Lily Luna didn't go out of her way to make trouble. That had always been her brother, James', role in school; there were detention records to prove it.

      But there was a pull once Scorpius became Prefect along with Al. It was too irresistible, too tempting, too much fun, making mischief, though she had to rely quite a bit on the twins' ingenuity.

      "LILY!" Scorpius finally was learning to raise his voice this year, although he turned pink in the face every time he did.

      Lily laughed. He was so adorably frazzled whenever he finally caught her…!

Remarks for—

Ch264: :3c Well, sleepwalking isn't a curse if you cross paths with someone who piques your curiosity. ;D Also, I may be American, but I guess I read enough/too much Brit & Aussie lit bc "specter" looks so wrong to me??? I wanna leave it as "spectre," *lol*.

Ch265: Re: Carrows—A very interesting mythology to read would be my fic, at last, with you.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

               You knew from the beginning that you and Neville were not suited for each other.

               Perhaps by marrying him, you thought you were at his level. Everyone talked of the "Golden Trio," but people looked when Ginny, Luna, and Neville passed, too. In the aftermath of the war, it came out that those three had been with Harry, Hermione, and Ron that night in the Department of Mysteries. And those three had been with the trio ever since.

               You wanted a bit of that hero's sheen on you, didn't you?

               You all fought in the war, but that didn't matter. You reached for Neville, expecting a better life.

               But that life never came. You got a simple life, where you served people drinks to forget the war and Neville was an Auror to prevent another war from happening, and then he was a teacher to teach a new generation Herbology and you were still that woman behind the bar counter.

               Then things weren't so simple anymore.

               Then a girl caught Neville's eye. He was too shy to do anything. Neville could help make Voldemort mortal, but he still had a hard time talking to women. Even after that girl left Hogwarts, he still did nothing with her.

               Instead, he divorced you. He was so sure that he could convince this little chit, this Victoire Weasley, that they were a match made in heaven.

               You doubted that he even heard how ridiculous he sounded. But that was Neville, always chasing and never catching. He chased his grandmother's approval. He chased Luna. He chased Death Eaters. He chased Mandragora.

               He never chased you, though. You chased him.

               So a miracle happens: Victoire walks into the Leaky Cauldron. You think that she's the bait. She could lead him here, back to you. You don't give a damn that her expression is sorrowful; you don't give a flying fuck that, for once, you are prettier than she is. You could care less about this girl.

               But, day after day, Victoire sits at a table in the Leaky Cauldron. And, day after day, Neville does not appear.

               You do not lose hope. Instead, you allow your spite to eat you up inside.

               On a day when you're feeling particularly Dark, Victoire finally traipses up to the counter. You don't look at her, but she stares at you until you lift your head. When you do, you see that the Cauldron is basically empty. A scowl lands on your face.

               "Mrs. Longbottom—"

               "Don't you call me that!" you hiss. You say it for two reasons. One, you're not a Longbottom anymore. Two, she doesn't have the right to say that name so smoothly.

               "Ms. Abbott…"

               You finally glare at her, Hannah, and what do you find? Something that unnerves you.

               "I'm sorry—" she begins.

               You forget her stare and drop the mug in your hands, your anger filling your being so much that you can't hold anything right now. "I hate you for what you did to my marriage!" you yell.

               "And I'm trying to say I'm sorry!" she desperately says, but it comes out as a whisper.

               You think of all the rumors you've heard, how she must've enticed him, how her Veela blood is more powerful than Fleur's. "Get. The hell. Out." The words are so heavy that you feel as though they tumbled from your lips and landed with a thud in your arms like a dead body.

               Victoire flinches and leaves. But she comes back the next day, as if the two of you still haven't exchanged a word.

               It continues, this silent protest of hers, for months. And, for months, Neville never appears. You begin to doubt that he'll ever come back, even to say a friendly hello, and you know you miss that bit of him, at least.

               But, when news of his appearance in Diagon Alley reaches your ears, that Dark part of you that you thought you had quelled resurfaces. Your eyes lift up, and Victoire comes into your line of sight. For once, you don't feel so much blind rage at the girl.

               How could you, as this plan unfolds in your head?

               You will leave the counter, you will engage her in conversation, you will make her believe that she can earn your trust, earn an ally to proclaim that Victoire is not a filthy whore or heartbreaker (whichever it is). You will touch her hand, you will make contact with her, you will worm your way into her thoughts and heart. You will romance her, because if you take Neville's toy away, then he just has to pay you some attention, doesn't he?

               It doesn't matter that every time you say "Victoire" or "Oh, dear" or "You're a sweetheart," that thing that unnerved you before never leaves her eyes.

               It doesn't matter that you know you are hurting her by making her drop her walls around you every time she drops her robes (and isn't that an added bonus? Because you haven't gotten any for how long?).

               It doesn't matter that the rumors of Neville being back in town fade and yet you continue to hold that strawberry–blond head in your arms.

               It doesn't matter that you think back on how you used to clash with this girl…and now every fiber of your being is going against your common sense to keep her happy, is striving to keep her by your side.

               She tells you that she never returned his attention. She tells you that she never expected to be here with you, like this. She tells you she doesn't want your forgiveness anymore. She just wants your love.

               You're so stubborn, Hannah. You're too loyal to your pride to tell her as she sweetly hangs her favorite pendant around your neck that…that you'd seen her sincerity in her eyes all along. And, that, somewhere along the way, your plan backfired. Victoire won…but if you won, in a way, too, then it can't be all that bad.

It's kind of funny, because I got such a scathing vibe from writing Hannah like this that I was wondering if she was going to produce her wand and just kill Victoire. :+ But the more I wrote it, the more I felt Victoire's charms working on Hannah…maybe now Hannah will understand why Victoire unwillingly caught Neville's eye? *lol* Thanks to lowi for the prompts of "strive," "pendant," "clash," "hold," and "strawberry," as they helped to take this old idea of mine and flesh it out some more. :]

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew