I hope you're not sick of Victoire/Teddy fics, because I adore the pair. Here goes, let me know if it's any good, or if you have any constructive criticism. I will make the chapters longer, but this is just the prologue. Thanks!
PROLOGUE: The Sorting
Victoire Weasley twisted a lock of her pearlescent blonde hair through her long, slender fingers in nervous anticipation. She craned her neck as far as she could to get a closer look at the mediocre excuse for a hat that stood on the stool in centre-stage.
She was blissfully unaware of all the boys turning to gawk at her without any modesty. She glided along with the rest of the first-years with all the grace that she had inherited from her mother.
She recoiled visibly when she was close enough to see the tear in the hat mid-song. It was soiled and ugly, and she paled at the thought of having it placed on her head. With a faint laugh, she imagined what her mother's reaction would be if she were presented with such a filthy object, and was expected to wear it. Fleur was already disappointed enough that Victoire had not agreed to go to Beauxbatons, her own alma mater.
For what must have been the twentieth time that night, she turned to stare longingly at the Gryffindor table. She saw third-year Teddy Lupin deep in what appeared to be an amusing conversation with his friend, but he looked up when he noticed her and winked, his hair slowly morphing into red and gold. She returned his smile somewhat half-heartedly. Then Teddy turned his attention away as he slung his arm around the pretty girl beside him and whispered something in her ear. Victoire glanced away in distaste.
"Valery, Katherina," called Professor Longbottom.
A pretty little thing with dark hair and nervous amber eyes clambered to the stage and dropped onto the stool, her teeth biting into her bottom lip.
Longbottom placed the mangy old thing on her head and stepped back.
She glanced at the boy beside her, and they both shared looks of equal anxiety. Victoire was sure he'd mentioned his surname began with a Z, which meant …
"Weasley, Victoire," Longbottom announced.
With a sympathetic smile, Victoire floated up the steps and turned to take her position on the stool gracefully.
The hat was so large it fell below her ears and shielded her view of the Hall, something she was somewhat grateful for.
She recoiled. The hat spoke?
"Is that a problem?" she thought indignantly.
"But there's something else, too," he said. "Someone's head that I've never touched …"
"Like she'd let you," she laughed soundlessly.
"Fleur Delacour," he said finally. "Beauxbatons, eh? To each his own … her own, I should say. But where do I put you?"
She waited impatiently.
"I could put you in Slytherin," the hat murmured. "You're certainly confident and have a penchant for attracting the attention of fools … is it the Veela blood that does that?"
"My father would have a coronary," she thought.
"Hmmm," the hat mused. "You're smart, aren't you? You've got the talent, that's a given, I can see it now. Perhaps Ravenclaw is the place for you … yes, yes … it better be—"
"RAVENCLAW!" the hat announced to the crowd.
Victoire felt the hat be pulled from her head, and she stood automatically, glancing down at the table that proudly wore a shade of deep blue. She smiled despite herself as she descended the steps a little too quickly to be considered elegant, and took a seat at the end beside another first-year.
"I knew it," the witch beside her whispered, brushing her mane of jet-black hair out of her eyes in excitement. "I knew you'd be a Ravenclaw! I'm Tess Savage, by the way."