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“It's not safe Vic!”
“But it's safe for you? You're a fucking hypocrite.”
“You don't know what these blokes are like. They're dangerous. They'll see you as property and want you for themselves. I'm just trying to keep you safe!”
“You think I haven't been dealing with brutes like that my entire life? I'm not some naïve little girl. Why don't you just admit that you don't think I can handle myself.”
He clenched his jaw, barely suppressing a growl. “I know you can't. Not against these people.”
She went deathly still, her face a picture of stunned rage, the familiar expression a painful reminder of his late wife.
“Fuck you. I'm going, and when I make it back in one piece I'm moving out. I won't live with someone who doesn't respect me.” Ignoring her father's protests, she turned on her heel and disapparated.
“Hermione!” she called out through tears.
“Vic? What are you doing here?” Hermione peered over the banister at her visitor. It only took one look for her to see something was wrong. She was crying. Vic never cried. In fact, the last time Hermione had seen her do so was at her mother's funeral. She had been so young, and to have lost her mother in such a brutal way was certainly something Hermione could relate to, having lost her own parents to Death Eater's during the war. She'd never been the same since the day she found out. She felt less somehow. As though she were only part of a whole person. She'd seen that same fractured look in Victoire's eyes that day. Dom and Louis had been too young to understand what had happened. Vic though, had been ten and understood perfectly.
Fleur had been murdered, set upon by a group of thugs on her way home from work. Harry and Hermione had been the first Aurors on the scene, and it was them who had to notify Bill. Victoire had been so brave throughout her father's grief. She took on the role of caretaker, stepping neatly into her mother's shoes. She cooked simple meals, cared for the children, reminded her father shower, and did it all without falling behind in her studies. It wasn't until the funeral that she allowed herself to break down. Hermione had felt her heart tugging in sympathy as the child's desperate wails rang through the air. Bill could barely look at her, staring straight ahead to avoid meeting the eyes of the little girl who reminded him too much of her mother. Unable to stand it any longer, Hermione had crossed the path and gathered the sobbing girl up into her arms, rubbing soothing circles over her back until the cries had softened to whimpers. She couldn't give her mother back to her, but she could do this.
Since that day, she had been something of a mentor to the girl. There had been hundreds of sleepovers, tutoring and sparring sessions over the years and now, ten years later, they had built a strong and abiding friendship. So it was only natural that she should turn to the woman in her time of need. It wouldn't be the first time. In fact, it had only been six months since she had shown up in the middle of the night with wine and a pint of ice cream after breaking up with Teddy.
“I told Dad about Moscow.”
“You got it?” Her voice rose slightly with excitement, it was a prestigious assignment and only the most talented curse-breakers had been selected.
“Yes, I got it.” She offered her friend a small smile. At least she knew that she could count on Hermione for support.
“Oh Vic, that's fantastic! I'm so proud of you.” She gathered the girl up in a bone-crushing hug. The blonde eventually extracted herself, laughing. It warmed Hermione to see a smile back on her face.
“Thanks, 'Mione.” she grinned, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I only wish Dad were as excited as you.”
Hermione paused for a moment, thoughtful. Surely, being a curse-breaker himself, Bill knew what a huge opportunity this was. But then again, she knew that he wasn't altogether pleased with his daughter's chosen career in the first place.
“I'm sure he's just worried, you know how protective he can be. What did he say exactly?”
“He told me right to my face that he doesn't think I can look after myself.”
Hermione scoffed. “Rubbish. You've been looking after yourself since you were ten!”
Not to mention the fact that the girl was both a talented duellist and a champion kick-boxer. She'd been going to lessons with Hermione since she was eleven and had taken to the sport like a duck to water. No, this was definitely about what had happened to his wife.
“I know that. Maybe you should try telling him.”
“I will, don't worry!” It wasn't the first time Hermione had interceded on her behalf. “Well, never mind him love. I'm ecstatic for you, and you know Aunt Ginny will be thrilled.”
“Of course she will. She's thrilled when any of us girls do something we're 'not supposed to'.” She chuckled heartily at the thought of her boisterous aunt.
“That she does” Hermione agreed with a sigh.
“Anyway. I've told him I'm moving out after the dig... could I move in here with you?”
She gave comforting smile. “Of course you can. I'll have your room ready for you when you get back.”
She really did feel for Bill. She'd never had any children, so she could only imagine how painful it would be to have one walk out of your life. She hoped they would reconcile in time. Once he'd learned the lesson all fathers must about their little girls; they don't stay little forever. One day she'll grow up. She'll grow up and she won't need protection, she won't need saving. All she'll need is to be loved and accepted for the strong woman she's become.