You win everything.
I learned that when I was ten and you were eight. It was right after that blizzard, do you remember? Fred threw that snowball and it nearly took out my eye. I still can’t figure out how he did it; my fingers were too stiff and raw to move, let alone pack snow that cold. I wanted to get him back so badly, but we ended up only being there for about ten minutes because Dominique lost her boot in the snow, and your dad made us go back to your house.
You were wearing a pink hat and your hair was in two braids. I didn’t talk to you often, so I’m not really sure how I remember this. I think it was because when I rubbed my lips in pain, your braids swung as you reached into your pocket and handed me your chapstick.
I stayed close to you when we got back to your house. I’m not really sure why. I knew everyone there. Usually I would have gone off with Fred, or occupied James for Ginny. But I didn’t. I watched you talk with your mum and play that card game with Harry and Dominique.
And then you turned to me and asked if I wanted to play a game of chess. Of course, I agreed with a grin. I wasn’t going to say no to you; I couldn’t have said no to you.
You had just learned the game and I had to help you every step of the way. I refreshed the rules and hinted you toward the best next move. I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly because I led you straight to success. You beat me, and I’ve never liked to lose.
I crossed my arms over my chest, scowling, as you danced around with Dominique, long hair flying around. When you caught sight of my pout, you just smiled at me, your blue eyes twinkling, looking like two marbles.
I walked in the kitchen, defeat written all over my face.
“What’s wrong with you?” Ginny asked, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She was a few months pregnant, and I remember wondering how she did it, how she managed to work and keep up with her two young children while pregnant. I mean, James and Al were always everywhere. Well, Al wasn’t as much, but James was as rambunctious as they got.
“Victoire beat me at chess,” I mumbled, angry and ashamed.
Ginny laughed, sitting down at the kitchen table. “That’s the way she is.” Her voice dropped and she dipped her head down, like she was telling a secret. “It’s her name,” she assured, “Victoire “ victory. She just wins.”
I nodded. “That must be it,” I replied affirmatively. I didn’t lose. You just won. You were just meant to win. As long as it was out of my power, I didn’t question it. Well, I didn’t question it that day.
So I walked back into the sitting room. You weren’t better than me. It was just your name.
But still. She just wins. It came back to me and irked me for weeks. I didn’t understand, and I certainly didn’t think it was fair. I figured you couldn’t “just win”. The world would see the injustice of it. But until then, I promised myself that whenever I could help it, I’d make sure you didn’t win.
It never really worked. I watched you win everything. Quidditch matches, for one thing. That’s a little different I guess, because I wanted you to win for Gryffindor. I went to every game, and my hands would always turn white from gripping the stand so hard. I watched you dive and loop, searching for the Snitch, hoping you’d get it in time. When you would soar to the ground, only to pull up just in time, I nearly had heart failure. And the Bludgers, I prayed Fred would keep them away from you. I told myself I’d stop going to the games, but couldn’t ever keep away. I never understood why.
I watched you soar to the top of your class, effortlessly knowing the answer to every question and acing every test. All of your teachers loved you; and your parents, well, it was no secret that they adored you. You beat everyone. Even Dominique couldn’t keep up, and she was just like you, beautiful and gifted.
When that Canadian boy stayed with you for during the summer holiday before your fifth year, I watched you and Dominique battle for his affection. I came to dinner that night, do you remember? You were completely overdressed in that light blue dress, the exact color of your eyes. Your hair was pulled up, a few curls falling around your temple, and you looked stunning.
I had always resented you a little bit. You had the world in your palm, and you had a confidence that I never could have dreamed of. I was jealous of you, but that night, I wasn’t. I was completely smitten. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You never noticed, of course: you were too busy chatting up that boy, your foot hitting mine as you searched for his under the table.
You stole all the light from the room that night, and I remember thinking that, although Dominique looked nice too, you won again. Dominique had no chance “ and neither did that boy.
I brought him up once, a few months later, asking if you two kept in touch. You laughed, having forgotten all about him. You told me you had no interest in pursuing a relationship with a boy who lived across the Atlantic. I remember wondering if the boy still thought about you. I figured he must.
I’m still not really sure what it is about you. A spell “ it’s the only way I can describe it. People just fall into you. You’re perfect, but it isn’t an annoying type of perfection. You win. And no one hates you for it, because you win him or her over. I can only think of two people who have had a problem with it “ Dominique and me.
Of course Dominique would. She’s beautiful and funny and charming. But you are more beautiful, more charming. You’re better than her. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t compete, and no human would like that.
As for me, you were always better than me, and it bothered me. Everything about you used to bother me: how you seemed to float into a room, and all the boys would turn their heads; how you’d come to lunch covered in mud, never thinking twice about it; how your favorite class was Care of Magical Creatures.
I could never understand you. You wanted to be a professor, a Healer, a shopkeeper, an Unspeakable, a dragon trainer, a shoe designer. You wanted everything; you wanted the world. But you never wanted me. You never cared about me, and I couldn’t stand that. I couldn’t stand knowing you never had to work for anything, for always being on my mind.
I was cruel. I’m sorry. I never knew you took any notice. You never paid me any attention. You were always off with your friends, with your dates and your boyfriends. You’d smile at me once in a while, challenge me to a game of chess, which I would tastefully reject at the risk of losing. But you never looked my way, not really. I just couldn’t help but look yours. You made it hard not to.
Your words didn’t hit me until later.
“I obviously don’t win everything, since I haven’t won your affection yet.”
Your voice was so low, your face so hard, and your eyes…they transformed into a steel blue. I thought I was the only one who could do that.
You were hurt, and I never meant to do that. You looked beautiful though, still in your rubber boots from wading into the lake with Professor Longbottom. Of course, you were dry, but a piece of seaweed clung to your shoulder. I’m smiling just thinking about it, and the way your hair kept blowing into your open mouth when you were trying to talk. It took away from your speech, but you looked adorable.
And now, I’m still trying to decode your words. I don’t know what to make of them. I don’t know what to make of you. Maybe you just meant what you said, giving an example that you don’t win everything.
But…
No. It can’t be. You are too beautiful to like me. The idea is practically ludicrous. It’s crazy, I know it, but my heart is beating faster, a bubble of hope rapidly rising in my chest.
Maybe it’s worth a confession on my part. I can’t stand knowing that I hurt you.
So now I grab your hand and nearly drag you into an empty classroom, you struggling all the way.
“What do you want?” you spit. I know you want to seem angry, but you aren’t. Well, maybe you are. But you’re more hurt. I can see it in your eyes; there’s that wounded look. Merlin, it kills me.
“You win.” My voice is quiet.
“What?”
“Victoire “ it means victory.”
“I know what my name means, and I need to get to class, if a definition was what you wanted to say so badly.”
I look at you and wonder how I didn’t realize all this earlier. How did I not recognize this feeling? It must have always been here. Even when I was ten, it must have been somewhere deep inside. When you only had eyes for the Canadian boy, that jealously in my core. How had I never known it?
“Let me finish.” You open your mouth to argue, but I give you a look, and you close it, folding your arms across your chest. “You win everything. Or…I dunno…maybe I just lost years ago. It doesn’t really matter. Victoire, you win. You do. You’ve won my heart, and I don’t even know when or where or how. I guess you won it in chess when I was ten, and when you were in that blue dress last year. When you smile, when you sing under your breath, when you go and visit your grandparents on weekends, when you speak in French and I have no idea what you’re saying, you win it all over again. I tried to fight it, but it-it didn't work. You’ve…stolen, won, whatever “ I really like you.”
You stare at me for a moment, taking in my words. My heart stops. What if I made a mistake? What if you never felt the same? Oh Merlin, I’ve made a fool out of myself. I’m an idiot. Of course you never felt anything for me. Why would you? I want to dart out of the room. Here I am, two years older than you, at your mercy. I feel incredibly ridiculous.
Still staring at me, your head tilts the slightest, your arms unfold, and your face softens. Ever so slowly, your lips curve into a smile. As you begin to lean in, I smile too. And, as expected, you win me all over again.