Re: log, Hogsmeade: Victoire W/Sirius B/some James P & Teddy R
She listened to Sirius, who maybe was quite possibly Sirius at this point, and if the world had gone mad then her dad was surely looking for her, ready to drag her home to Shell Cottage and the eternal protection of a Fidelius Charm, because werewolves were bad, and Voldemort might still live, and perhaps he'd gotten a bit more than a scratch on his face and an unfortunate adoration for rare steaks. Her mum would sigh, and there would be tales of a life far away, and she'd die if they locked her up with Louis and Dominique, and that was the most dreadful prospect of all.
He mentioned the dates, the handsome boy who was living up to rumour, but bad boys often did, and she considered looking about for a copy of the Prophet, but something hit the table, and her eyes narrowed, soft blue and with the look of someone who'd had this happen before. "I knew it. Come out from under there with the cloak." She began to pull her chair back to allow whoever was hiding - Al and James, likely - to come out.
But the door opened, and she momentarily forgot that the world was altogether ending, and that her life of captivity was certain to begin at any moment. She stared, and she detested those Vans, but her face softened with typical teenage girl adoration for a moment, only one, and then Weasley resolve replaced the look, and Veela coolness joined the fray, and she was remarkably composed by the time Teddy placed his hands on the table and pleaded with quiet desperation.
But his expression, that lip curl and brow knit, it was dreadfully familiar, and she scooted over slightly in her chair and patted the spot beside her hip. "I still abhor you, and you're never touching me again, but sit down." She looked at possibly-Sirius. "This is Teddy. You can apologize at any time."