Chapter 1: Nothing Good Ever Came From a Long Eared Owl

Nothing good would ever come from a long eared owl. Victoire was utterly convinced of that fact. Anytime she saw those prominent ear tufts sitting erect on the top of a bird's head she just knew whatever he offered was not going to be good.

Long eared owls brought you letters like- V, Six months gone and I haven't gotten nearly as far as I intended...thinking about us a lot lately and agonizing about taking the time to finish what I started or running back home to you... more than a year is too much to ask for you to wait...shouldn't feel tied down in your final year at Hogwarts...I'll be back before your graduation like I promised...we can see where we are then...

Bollocks!

The Daily Prophet exclusively used long eared owls for their correspondence. They were likely the only owls that would lower themselves to deliver such rubbish as- Miss Weasley, we here at the Daily Prophet wish to offer an opportunity for you to comment on your recent three day disappearance and subsequent illness. We are sure you are pleased to hear that the expose on the events of said disappearance will be a prominent feature of the first page of our latest printing! Please respond promptly. If we have not received word from you by three this afternoon we shall proceed with printing Miss Skeeter's article and cite you with 'no comment'.

Holy sensationalized load of double bollocks!

Her friend Sara insisted that there was an inordinate amount of long eared owls in Brazil. Victoire found herself questioning the source of that particular tidbit upon considering that, at the time, Sara was defending her own choice of carrier for her news- Victoire, holidays at my cousin's house have been way better than expected. Couldn't wait until we are back at school to tell you! A job offer after graduation...moving here permanently...Me, halfway around the world. Can you believe it!?!

Yes, she could believe it, because it was sent via bloody long eared owl.

"He's not going away until you take it."

Hush up, Victoire thought. You're moving to Brazil in a week. Some friend you are! She continued her stare down with the freakishly long eared owl.

"It has the Bimas school crest on the seal. It's your acceptance letter. It has to be. This is what you killed yourself for on NEWTS."

"Why do I even want it?" Victoire whined.

"Because Bimas is the premier institute of higher learning in the wizarding world," Sara smiled, "and because you still have no idea what you want to be when you grow up so you are putting off any kind of real decision with more school."

Sara had been Victoire's friend since they started Hogwarts. Victoire was closer to Sara in some ways than her own sister. She supposed that was because there was no sibling rivalry between them.

"Just because you have always known exactly what you want and have landed the job that will get you there doesn't mean that you are still not a traitor for leaving me all alone," Victoire snipped. The absence of sibling rivalry apparently did not preclude occasional other forms of contention.

"I'm not leaving you alone. You can't walk down Diagon Alley without tripping over relatives and your popularity is downright annoying," Sara shot back easily. She generally refused to rise to Victoire's bait. "You have all kinds of other friends."

"No, I have acquaintances. I have frenemies. I have dates, shameless flirts, and the occasional would-be stalker. You and Teddy have been my only real friends." If Victoire had known she was going to lose everybody at graduation, she would have paid a little more attention. She should have been befriending first years all along. They were not going anywhere for a while.

"But you're so close -" Sara started when Victoire cut her off. She knew where Sara was going with her argument.

"Family is different; they have to like me," she finally gave in to the owl. He was never going to blink. Victoire was left wondering if they even had eyelids and whether that fact was even worth looking up. "You can't choose your family but you choose your friends. And real friends understand you and choose you anyway."

"I have to go," Sara said quietly. "You can't expect me to stay."

"No, that's not what I meant. I am happy for you and I want what's best for you. I am just a little bitter that what's best is so far away." Victoire was also a little less naive than when she encouraged Teddy to go on his grand tour. He needed some time to find himself and explore his father's mysterious past. She needed to finish school. It all seemed so easy; so perfect.

Victoire shook herself out of her thoughts and looked over at her friend. Sara didn't deserve to pay for regrets in Victoire's past. She was unbelievably supportive back then, and she had stoically endured all Victoire's drama since. That was it; Victoire knew she needed to happy up before she couldn't stand herself. "Whose bright idea was it to put Brazil in South America anyway?"

Sara brightened up immediately well used to the caprices of mood where Victoire was concerned. "I think it was the Wizengamot. Rumor has it the Chief Warlock at the time was allergic to Brazil nuts and sent it straight to the ends of the earth."

Victoire took a deep breath and reached for the letter.

Dear Perspective Applicant,

We appreciate your interest the British Institute of Magical Arts and Studies. As you must know, for every single position in our freshman class we receive thousands of applications from witches, wizards, and all manner of magical beings from all over the globe. We simply cannot accommodate every candidate, and therefore, we find it necessary to hold your application pending responses to offers already issued...

HOOT!

Mr. Big Ears apparently wanted his tip.

Bugger!

"Victoire, being waitlisted doesn't mean that you won't get in," Sara's voice held a peculiar mixture of sternness and encouragement that few people under the age of fifty would even attempt to pull off. "People have up to two years to start Bimas if they are accepted, and you know there are people who defer their acceptance to travel or take time off just like Teddy did."

Yes, Teddy had no problem getting in, Victoire thought enviously, and he had taken not only the year he originally planned but also another for good measure. Teddy could be casual about it - they wanted him right off.

They were currently sitting in the middle of the Gryffindor girl's dorm throwing all their worldly possessions out of drawers and trunks. It was amazing what could be accumulated in seven years. Seven years of shared wardrobe purchases and items whose original ownership had long since been forgotten.

"Other people only apply as a backup if they don't get into the occupational program they want. Surely some of those people will get their first choice," Sara continued not really getting that she was rubbing in the fact that her friend was not good enough to have a choice.

Yes, Victoire could practically hear the witch at the admission office in her polished and more than slightly condescending voice - If everyone we would rather have decides not to attend our institution this fall we will certainly accept your tuition money and put up with you for it. She had no idea what she was going to tell her parents. She imagined they were so happy to think that she wouldn't be living in their basement when she turned 30 and, now, that dream was gone.

Sighing, Victoire gathered a pile of four or five dozen t-shirts she and Sara had accumulated over the years they had been at school. The shirts were mostly muggle slogans and graphics. They were always picking them up on vacations and holidays sending them to each other for giggles. Some people collected frog cards. Sara and Victoire collected t-shirts.

"You need to take the tees," Victoire moved the pile over to Sara's trunk with the hope that they could move along to another topic.

"How did you work that out?" Sara looked across the pile at her.

"You're the one going to the warmer climate. Besides," Victoire added in her most proper voice, "I would never even wear them. You have no problem with people staring at your breasts, while I don't like to encourage that sort of behavior." Sara threw a pillow at her.

The attempt at distraction was unsuccessful, however. Sara was nothing if not focused. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she retrieved a pile of shoes from under the bed and continued her previous thought where she left off. "It's just so surprising," she commented while sifting through several pairs for matches, "I mean, everybody applying probably had the same Outstanding NEWTS, but you're Head Girl at Hogwarts. That should have counted for something."

Not when so many people believed I got that placement solely because of my name, Victoire couldn't help but think.

"Here's what you are going to do," Sara held up a particularly complex pair of strappy sandals at which Victoire shook her head and motioned to Sara's pile. Victoire hated those sandals. Her mother bought them because they were just divine and matched the gown Victoire wore to last year's spring ball. She didn't last an hour before kicking them off. "You are going to have someone in your family or one of their well placed friends in the ministry write you a recommendation letter. Your father is tight with the Minister, right? You were stubborn not to do that in the first place."

She may have been right there, Victoire thought. Who was I to think I didn't need the help. I needed all the help I could get.

"And," Sara looked at Victoire where she sat against the opposite bed, "you are going to tell them about your condition. That will set you apart from the rest of the application pool when a place does open up so you will be the one to get it."

Sara was the planner. Victoire, not so much. She could implement a plan if someone handed it to her. She could draw people's attention to it and rally them for support. In a pinch, she could even improvise on the fly when a plan went astray. She could not, however, create even the simplest plan on her very own. There were just too many possibilities. Victoire easily got lost in possibilities.

Right now, however, her possibilities seemed limited. Not to mention unattractive.

"A condition that is routinely referred to as 'hysterical' anything does not inspire confidence in ones abilities," Victoire countered, banking a pair of rolled up wool stockings off the wall and into the rubbish bin.

"That's just McGonagall talking. No one has used that term since the dark ages which, coincidently, is the last time anyone has exhibited your eccentricity." She got up from the floor, moved over to the bed against which Victoire was leaning, and began sorting the remaining clothing stacked on it. "Besides, that's not the term Healer Hayes uses."

Ah, Grant Hayes. No man would ever live up to Sara's image of Grant Hayes. Victoire felt sorry for those Brazilian blokes who would not stand a chance against the Healer Hayes standard. "Grant is a newly qualified healer. I hardly think he can change the terminology of the only text on record for my particular birth defect," Victoire said tossing the next pair of stockings at Sara. "Enough about me and my issues," Victoire laid her head back against the bed. "The year is coming to a close and I'm going to have to learn to deal without you soon enough." She turned her head toward Sara at that sobering thought, "I am going to miss the hell out of you. You know that, don't you?"

Sara looked at her and started to tear up a little, "Ditto, kiddo."

There was probably so much more that should be said, but Victoire would never know how to properly say it.

Sara glanced over to the birdcage by the window with its open door and fresh water. It had been vacant for a year and a half. "I know you will not forget me. Even when I'm gone," she replied.

A/N: Much thanks to CelticKisses from Aparecium Forums and Stefeny from LiveJournal for beta reading this chapter.