𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍, george weasley

035

THIRTY FIVE

Victoria Windsor had been enjoying a rare, quiet morning with Neville Longbottom in the greenhouses, their fingers caked in dirt from replanting shrivelfigs. Neville was in his element, carefully handling each plant with a tenderness that always made Victoria smile.

"You've really got a knack for this, Neville," she said, brushing soil off her hands.

Neville flushed at the compliment. "Thanks. It's nice... you know, doing something I'm actually good at."

"You're good at a lot of things," Victoria reassured him. "You're kind, loyal, and brave. That matters more than you know."

Neville's ears turned red, and he gave her a shy smile. "Thanks, Tori."

They walked back toward the castle, chatting easily, until they reached the entrance to the Great Hall. The usual clamor of breakfast greeted them—laughter, clinking plates, and the rustling of newspapers. But something felt off. The atmosphere was different. Charged.

Victoria noticed it immediately.

At every table, students were hunched over copies of The Daily Mail, whispering and pointing. Her heart sank. She had seen this before—her family's name splashed across headlines. But today, something was different. The murmurs were louder. More scandalous.

At the Slytherin table, an older student that she didn't quite know the name of, but had a habit of looking like he was ready to ruin everyone's day —tall, with a smirk that oozed malice—locked eyes with her. He lifted his newspaper and mockingly tipped it toward her as if offering a toast.

Victoria's chest tightened. Beside her, Neville was already trembling, his eyes darting around nervously.

"It's okay," she whispered, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Go to the table. I'll be fine."

Neville hesitated but eventually nodded and scurried toward the Gryffindor table.

Victoria took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and strode toward her usual spot. The whispers grew louder. She could feel eyes on her, but she kept her head high.

Fred and George were seated near the middle of the table, their heads bent over a copy of the paper, faces twisted in disbelief.

"Morning, boys," she said, her voice steady but clipped.

Fred looked up first, his usual grin absent. George followed, concern flickering in his eyes.

"You... you haven't seen it yet, have you?" George asked quietly.

Victoria narrowed her eyes. "Seen what?"

Fred handed her the paper without a word.

6 MINUTE LOVE TAPE COULD COST CHARLES THE THRONE

Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands shook slightly as she read the transcript printed below. 

Charles: "I'll just live inside your trousers or something. It would be much easier!" 

Camilla: (laughing) "What are you going to turn into, a pair of knickers?" 

Charles: "Or, God forbid, a Tampax. Just my luck!" 

Victoria stopped reading, her vision blurring. Her fingers clenched the edges of the paper, crumpling it slightly. 

She forced herself to read on. The explicit details of the conversation left her stomach churning. Camilla. Who was Camilla? Whoever she was, her father—a man she'd tried so hard to respect—was clearly having an affair. 

And her mother, pregnant and vulnerable, had no idea. 

The world tilted. Victoria went pale, her grip loosening on the paper as her legs gave way beneath her.

"Victoria!" George leapt forward, catching her just before she hit the floor. Fred was beside him in an instant, along with Harry, Lee, and Ron.

"She's fainted!" Ron exclaimed, awkwardly trying to help support her.

"She's waking up," Lee said as Victoria's eyelids fluttered open.

A crowd had gathered around them now, their faces filled with curiosity and concern.

Victoria blinked up at the circle of worried faces. Her heart pounded in her chest. She felt exposed, humiliated, and trapped all at once. Everyone had seen it. Everyone knew.

Panic set in.

"I... I need to go," she mumbled, struggling to stand.

"Victoria, wait—" George began, but Alicia, ever observant and opportunistic, seized the moment. She grabbed George's arm. "Let her breathe, George," she said sweetly, though her eyes were watching Victoria closely.

Victoria barely noticed. She stumbled away from the table, her mind spinning, and bolted from the Great Hall. The whispers followed her out, like a tidal wave threatening to drown her.

She didn't stop running until she reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Fizzing Whizzbee," she gasped, her voice breaking.

The gargoyle sprang aside, and she hurried up the spiral staircase, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.

Inside, the office was warm, the soft glow of enchanted objects illuminating the shelves. Dumbledore looked up from his desk, his expression calm but concerned.

"Miss Windsor," he greeted her gently. "What brings you here so early?"

Victoria's eyes filled with tears as she stood before him, trembling. "Professor... I need to go home. Please."

Dumbledore regarded her with quiet understanding. "I assume this is about the morning's news?"

She nodded, her throat tight. "I... I can't stay here. Not after this. I need to talk to my parents."

Dumbledore rose from his chair, his blue eyes full of empathy. "Of course. I will arrange for you to use the Floo Network. You may go to one of the royal properties."

Victoria clenched her fists, trying to steady herself. "Thank you."

Moments later, she stepped into the emerald flames of the Floo Network, the swirling magic pulling her away from Hogwarts. She emerged in a quiet, ornate sitting room in one of the royal outbuildings near Buckingham Palace.

The familiar scent of polished wood and lavender filled the air. For a brief moment, it felt like home. But the weight in her chest reminded her why she was there. 

Victoria took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and prepared herself to face her parents.