When Bill and Fleur’s eldest daughter bounced down the stairs in the late afternoon on day in early July, it was clear that she had plans she hadn’t bothered to mention to her parents. Her bright red hair, often pulled back in a sloppy braid or ponytail over the summer, was hanging loose around her shoulders. She’d brushed her eyelids with dark grey eyepaint, and her lips were noticeably pinker. She’d also eschewed the trousers she usually wore when she and her cousin Fred were planning to cause mayhem for a short skirt Fleur had forgotten she even owned.
“You look very nice,” Fleur said, faint traces of an accent still noticeable. “Do you have plans you did not tell us about?”
Victoire rolled her eyes. “No, Mum,” she said impatiently, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I told you I was meeting Teddy after he got off work.”
Fleur couldn’t quite remember the exact words Victoire had used, but she was fairly certain that her daughter had, at the very least, strongly implied that she and Fred had plans with Teddy Lupin, which was not particularly unusual. Judging from her appearance and word choice, however, Fred would not be present for this outing, which seemed to bear a distinct resemblance to a date.