— only mirrors

“One green eye and one blue,” she repeated it like she was committing it to memory. “Whatever for?” she asked with the casual privilege of someone used to the ease of magic to alter the world.

“Heaven forfend,” she let out a small noise that was half chuckle and half feigned gasp at the idea of living with her parents, “I think I’d rather go back to living with my husband before that, and there were curses fired when I left him.”

She led Victoire by the hand, snaking through the crowd to Lawrence, catching his attention with a small wave from her free hand as they approached to warn him that he was their destination. “Lawrence!” she was carelessly loud with the familiar first name, part smug in the belief nobody was listening and tracking her movements and conversations at this point, and part hoping they were and saw her haphazardly changing minute by minute from startled stranger afraid of the boogie man to comfortable and familiar with Lawrence Frisk and back again as it suited. 

She dropped Victoire’s hand after squeezing it briefly as if to wish her good luck, in favor of a hand on her shoulder while she indicated Lawrence with the other hand. “Lawrence may not need introduction, but it is polite, so, Victoire, this is Lawrence Frisk. Lawrence, this my very good… well what should I call you?” She simpered in Victoire’s direction, as if there were some complex relationship to explain instead of a casual acquaintanceship, only barely leaving off calling her Kitten on purpose. “Friend I would be bold enough to say, but my and Emma’s former roommate at least. Victoire Weasley. She works for the Daily Prophet. I told her you’d love to give an interview and I know she’d love to hear your story. I promise she’s as fair a reporter as she is fair in every other definition of the word.” 

Lucille’s bell-like voice reached him with ease, happy to see they were all feeling at home in the foreign space and that none of his were hostile towards the hosts or the other guests. There it was, the real proof of a civilized behavior, even though they all lost their own battles to the others, just like the rest of the world. He spotted the bolder twin, holding the hand of a glowing woman. Although Lawrence hardly relied on physical beauty, it caught his eye just how beautiful the other blonde was, for a moment smiling blankly - kindly as ever - her way while listening to Lucille.

‘‘I need as much of an introduction as anyone else. Don’t idealize my popularity, Lucille,’‘ he spoke humbly, speaking in a manner as pleasant as he used to, though with the transparent pressure of being watched by a stranger he wanted to make a good impression on, for reasons he didn’t know exactly. It was somewhere between veela blood and his general desire to appear like a gentle, interesting human being. ‘‘It’s quite lovely to meet you, Miss Victoire Weasley.’‘ He didn’t lose eye contact for a second. ‘‘But as lovely as it is, I’m afraid I don’t know how to address your proposal. The concept of an interview would only narrow any word I’d have to say to you. I’m afraid my answers just wouldn’t be up to the standards of your paper.’‘ 

He knew that, technically, he could only gain popularity from expressing his intentions and thoughts openly, where everyone could read, but he knew he preferred Garrett to handle it, if it were the case. Perhaps it had a little to do with Lawrence desperately wanting every word to be in the preferred order, which wasn’t achievable in the spontaneity of an interview. ‘‘I don’t doubt your talent and fairness and I hate to say no, especially to a new friend, but I’m afraid it simply would be too much to say and not enough space. I’ve always been a fan of orality.’‘

Lucille’s recommendation was met with her brightest smile, but the man’s rejection faltered it a little. Only a little. She was practically begging now, but she pretended her dignity by how she was still carrying herself. ‘’Alright. Interview’s off. Done before with Jon Marks and you deserve something fresh. Let me do a profile on you. I guarantee it would get plenty of room in the paper. I usually have less than a page, but with you, I’d get the whole edition, I’m sure. As much space as you’d like. For as long as you’d like to talk. You need to tell your story. People need to know about you from a personal perspective. As for now, they only see you as foreigns. As villains. And I’m sure the story says a little more than just kidnapped people and taking over castles.’‘ It was the best she could handle her case, but from the way he’d been listening, she believed in her chances.

Scorpius hadn’t been prepared for an army. He hadn’t been prepared for a threadbare red couch in a kitchen either, though that was secondary. It felt like an ambush. They’d only talked about Mum and Dad, and here Victoire was greeting Grandma like this was the plan all along to bury him in mixed graying and red hair and try to pull one over on the equivalent of two quidditch teams. And weren’t like a third of them trained aurors? He wished he had kept track. At least there would be more people to hold back Louis is he really did try and go for his throat though. Silver lining.

He was still acting the hippogriff caught in the wandlight, stiff, hovering on the edge of the crowd, and not even saying a hello when a man that had to be Grandpa to match Grandma was grabbing his hand and pumping it in an enthusiastic handshake, “Wonderful to meet you! Welcome to the family!” Scorpius would have returned part of the sentiment if given a chance, but the eldest Mr. Weasley didn’t leave one, leaving Scorpius speechless instead with his next action, keeping hold of his hand but pressing on different areas of the palm more tightly, digging in his thumb and not shaking it anymore, mumbling half to himself. “Interesting. Interesting. I almost didn’t notice, but I analyzed enchanted artifacts for a living before I retired.” 

Grandpa was batted aside by Grandma with a warning, “You’re not going to pop off the poor dear’s hand for a study, dear. You’ll scare him,” and the still tongue-tied Scorpius was enveloped in a maternal hug before he knew it and being tutted over, accused of being skin and bones like it was the worst tragedy.

Being surrounded, he’d lost track of Victoire and her parents even while Bill was speaking to him. What was with this family that all talked over each other? Was that normal? Grandma Weasley was saying something about a sweater or a lack of one in a lamenting tone as Scorpius focused on his pretend future father-in-law who was looking at him kindly, not fierce despite the capability Scorpius could see in the scarred face. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you too, sir,” Scorpius was thrown off already and forgetting his role as instigating drama as everyone else seemed to be forgetting to be aghast. Even the face Scorpius recognized as scowling at him and his father from a distance at the train station every year when he was younger and warning him to stay away from his daughter when Scorpius hadn’t even known at the time who the man’s daughter was, was now welcoming him to the family and pouring him a drink. 

Scorpius looked to Victoire for rescue or maybe to reproach her silently because this was not fun anymore already, or it was the wrong kind, a kind that hooked behind his ribs because he wasn’t supposed to feel his smile become less pasted as he shook more hands and heard nothing but positivity and love for a stranger, and to be kissing Lily’s cheek as she whispered her blessing of his relationship with Victoire in his ear. 

One question cut through the rest of the chatter, and, holy shit, it was Harry Potter’s widow. Of course, he knew Ginny Potter was related to Victoire, but it was still bizarre as the rest of the night so far to see her. He swallowed. “My father is fine. Good health. Lonely I think, just him and his investment portfolio in the manor. He should get remarried.” He paused, feeling like he either should have much more or much less to say to these people about his father. He tried to lighten it up, “He may not be doing as fine soon. Vic and I haven’t told him about the wedding either. We’re heading over there later.”

As soon as her family started being embarrassing, Victoire remembered why she wasn’t excited to come to such dinners. Still, she intervened minutes too late, letting Scorpius taste a little of that Weasley medicine beforehand. Why, she didn’t know, but it was entertaining to watch. Hiding her face in her palm for the most part, when things were beyond cringing, she stood by Lily, making fox faces with Dominique from across the room. She didn’t even want to get into all that.

Aunt Ginny looked at the young Malfoy analytically but not lacking compassion. She nodded faintly at the answer. A harsh chuckle escaped her chest at the rest. She patted Victoire’s shoulder, already half disinterested, ‘’Give him hell, Vic. Don’t be too polite. Trust me that he deserves it.’’ Surely, all that was spoken in a joking manner, all for Scorpius’ sake.

‘‘I wouldn’t suspect Victoire of too much politeness to begin with, don’t worry,’‘ Bill added, and Victoire shot daggers at her father in that instant. She then wrinkled her nose as if making a funny face at him and turned to Aunt Ginny. ‘‘Don’t worry, Ginny. That’s the plan to begin with.’‘ 

She locked eyes with Scorpius, already begging for help with his looks and rushed to them, as if remembering how much she loved him. Securing a hand of his - the one that existed - on her waist and throwing her hands around him as well, she smiled at the thought that she was touching her faux fiance for the first time. ‘‘Okay. You smell good,’‘ she whispered, almost surprised and certainly impressed, in the chaos of the family. Then, her tone returned to ‘according to the plan’. ‘‘Let me know how early in you want to escape.’‘

‘‘Bonus points if you piss Bill off by the time we leave. He seems stable. I’d have thought he’d take this worse. Maybe Dominique really is the favorite after all.’‘ That was impossible and all three children knew that. ‘‘Fleur, on the other side, is a fake. You’ll get to her in no time.’‘

“What kind of overture of peace and unity in the wizarding  United Kingdom would not include all Harry Potter’s family? Tonight isn’t our night. Report on it, surely, but our next exclusive interview would be done at a much less crowded venue even if your family wasn’t here.” 

“Black or no cream and far too much sugar depending on mood if your family asks again. Admirable loyalty in your family. We are not close but what does it looks like if we do another interview when now I have more offers? Though I can be loyal too and we do have a history. Next week, after everyone, including your paper, has published their sensationalized recap of the evening and the politicians and aurors made official statements or declared renewed war against me. I’ll respond to all through you. Where would you like to meet?”

‘’That’s right. Relevancy.’’ She couldn’t suppress the eye roll to follow. When Jonathan actually gave her the recipe to how he drinks his coffee, she was naturally stunned and amused, even cracking a genuine smile to accompany the chuckle, for once. ‘’I’ll pass that on. It was a figure of speech though. None of them shows actual intentions of poisoning you. That would’ve been Rose’s thing. Alas...’’ She widened her eyes to label the route she’s taken as awkward and better to be left alone, and switched it again to smiling. ‘’It would look like we’re close? Cute. Do you think I’d have problems with the law from that alone?’’ 

Victoire had always felt above the law due to her last name being linked to Harry Potter’s, and now the new war was even more of a proof of that. Still, she didn’t know how much she could use her own surname for a ‘get out of jail’ free card. Truth be told, she did nothing bad per se, but the people she was friendly with pointed to at least some meetings with the aurors and late nights of declarations. As a journalist, she was expected to have connections, but her kind of connections were at least worrying, most of the time. ‘’What’s your coffee place? I’m between flats so I can’t really invite you over this time.’’ 

“Why, Miss Weasley, you are always my first choice, when I can catch you away from your stone throwing cousins. Tell me, do you think they are more worried for you or worried of what you may do? How did they take our last article?”

‘‘That’s heartwarming. Then why did you invite them too? Oh, they’re worried for me, definitely. It’s cute. 

They were beyond worried at first. Victoire, did you meet with him for real? Are you stupid? Blah, blah, blah. They had backstage questions. I didn’t know what to respond. I told them we’re not close. I don’t know how you drink your coffee. Other than that, they seem immune to the outrage. I guess they accept me since I’m theirs. I suppose you want your official claims published somewhere, right? New year, new you.’’

“I flirt with other women, another compulsion, so I understand what you’re doing but I’m still jealous because I worry about you doing better. I don’t know how to deal with the tears, but I listen and I’ve stopped telling you to just leave the job and instead encourage you to keep being a thorn in Skeeters side. She is the insecure one if she still holds a grudge this long later. I tell you that she’s jealous because of your youth, beauty, and talent as well naturally.” He didn’t take Victoire’s claim that she was being too honest as serious as it was, but he upped his own confession all the same. “I still can’t sleep without the bedroom door open and sometimes the window. I won’t step foot in any room below street level without time to prepare.”

“Ready,” he followed her out, glancing in the mirror himself before doing so. Once outside he slung an arm around her waist in preparation for her to apparate them to her parents.

‘‘Beyond jealous,’‘ she deadpanned, still eyeing him, before losing eye contact in favor of the mirror. She only regained real interest, facing Scorpius again, though she had been listening all along, when he mentioned what seemed to be the aftermaths of being kidnapped by the Mayte. She turned on her sympathetic face for a split minute before they moved onto better things. It was the nice and human thing to do.

Apparating at the Burrow on Christmas was limited to certain spots to secure the place, but Victoire still remembered the old red couch in the kitchen. It was probably too sudden of an entrance, but that was what they were going for, weren’t they? Suddenly surrounded by red heads, she smiled unknowingly. As much as she tried to hide it, it smelled like home and that was still comforting no matter how fast she’d be running away from it. 

‘’Grandma!’’ She was always first. ‘’Grandma...’’ she sighed into the woman’s hair in a hug. Then, reminded of the context, she remained in Molly Weasley’s arms while turning around to the rest of the family. She quickly checked their faces, sad to notice they were less surprised by her actually showing up and more taken with Scorpius. ‘’Oh, right. Look what the cat dragged in.’’ Like a child, she glanced at her parents, feeling fifteen again. ‘’No one faint. I’m getting married. This is Scorpius Malfoy. We love each other.’’

‘‘Honestly? Finally,’‘ grandma broke the ice joyfully, while everyone else seemed in confusion and skepticism still. Her grandparents wanted their eldest grandchild to get married already. 

Victoire’s voice turned hoarse, but still overwhelmed by adrenaline. This wasn’t an usual game she played. ‘’Fleur, Bill...’’ she began, knowing that the only ones with reactions worth worrying about had to be mum and dad. Upon scanning the room, she was relieved that Louis seemed to not be in the room at the moment. 

‘‘It’s very nice to meet you, Scorpius,’‘ madame Weasley spoke bravely, knowing how to be diplomatic although her still artistically beautiful face said nothing but disapproval for how the bomb was dropped, all directed at Victoire. She stretched out her hand in an attempt at warmth. The sad part was that it was entirely believable Vic would get married to someone her family didn’t even know. She hardly ever spoke to them. 

Bill took a step ahead, although taken aback. He wasn’t afraid of young boys or preparing to be threatening in front of his daughters’ boyfriends. The shock was real and almost thermic, since this wasn’t a relationship as much as a marriage announcement, but he was adaptable enough. He eyed Victoire with a sober face, analyzing his daughter. He chose to trust her like he trusted her with all the questionable choices she’s been making lately. Victoire was a good child. ‘’Welcome to the family, Scorpius. And this small crowd isn’t even half of us, so get prepared. You’ll have to learn quite a few names. And I’d love to get to know you.’’ Victoire felt a sudden wave of emotion over how well her father was handling it. Her smile reeked of gratitude before she even noticed it. 

Dominique seemed conflicted, though intrigued, nudging Victoire gently. It was the first amiable interaction they had with each other in months and when her sister rose on her toes to hug her, she knew she had an authentic bride-to-be reaction to show, even though she wasn’t that good of an actress. Yet, in that moment, it was great to imagine how emotional this would be if real. She knew instantly that if her chosen spouse took Scorpius’ place, not much would be different at all after all.

‘‘Welcome to the family,’‘ uncle Ron mirrored, handing Scorpius a small glass already pouring some alcohol in it. Victoire smirked under her breath. She could have sworn she heard him whisper, just earlier, something about what kind of name is Scorpius anyway and then some gossip about the father. His wife, aunt Hermione, wasn’t looking at him with much kinder eyes, though she was the most polite of them all and she had to feel a faint air of melancholy over the son of an old school mate. His family name apparently still left a bitter taste, despite all memories, though.

Albeit confused and agitated, the rest of the present members came by to congratulate the prodigal daughter with a cheek kiss and the groom with a handshake.

Aunt Ginny, visibly weakened and paler than in other years, for this marked a year without Albus and Harry, even dared to open her mouth to ask, ‘’How is your father doing?’’