Harry Potter Crime and Punishment

**A/N:** For one of castlehogwart's Quidditch competitions -which we lost, resoundingly, but only because this was our only entry. _**Please read and review!**_

**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling owns.

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"-never, ever, ever let me hear you say- _ohcrap_. Um, Professor..."

Those were the memorable phrases that led to Victoire Delacour-Weasley, she of the strawberry-blonde hair, innocent blue eyes, and impeccable behaviour record, being led to Neville Longbottom's office to explain exactly why she had felt it necessary to shove Brendan Forsyth, sixth-year Gryffindor, up against a wall and threaten him with death, dismemberment and the Bat-Bogey Hex.

Neville Longbottom himself was still reeling from the shock of discovering Victoire in the middle of intimidating the older boy, and trying to think of reasons why well-behaved Victoire might do such a thing. Victoire's sister Dominique wasn't being bullied by Brendan, was she? Neville sincerely hoped not.

He opened the door to his ground-floor office for Victoire, and she stepped in. Neville followed her. "Please take a seat, Miss Weasley. Tea?"

"Do you have mint, Professor?" Victoire asked hopefully. "Mum won't have it in the house, but I like it."

Neville flicked his wand at the kettle, which started boiling, and fished a Hufflepuff mug and his Professor Longbottom mug (there had been an unfortunate upset some months previously involving a mix-up of mugs in the staffroom, a member of staff who liked a sizeable slug of whiskey in their tea and another member of staff for whom that was enough to make them start dancing on the table and singing drunken Quidditch songs, ever since when everyone had had their own clearly labelled mug) out of the cupboard. He found two teabags, one mint, one ordinary English Breakfast, took out sugar for himself, and realised there wasn't any milk. "Miss Weasley, would you mind calling down to the kitchens for milk?"

"Er, all right," the student said, getting up. "But h-"

"Floo powder."

Neville heard the fire roar up and Victoire's voice call out uncertainly: "Milk, please?"

"Elly is bringing it right away!" a house-elf squeaked, and no sooner had the green fire died down than there was a crack and Elly appeared, holding a jug of milk.

Neville thanked her.

"Is Professor Longbottom wanting anything else?" Elly enquired.

"No, that's fine, thank you," Neville said, and went and sat down in his green armchair behind the desk as there was another crack and Elly Disapparated. Victoire was sitting in the chair opposite, looking slightly nervous but very upright, hands folded neatly in her lap.

Neville studied her for a moment, formed the opinion that she wouldn't speak unprompted, and sighed. "Miss Weasley, would you explain why you were threatening Mr. Forsyth?"

"I heard him calling Teddy unpleasant names earlier and saying things about Teddy's father," Victoire volunteered, her tone perfectly steady. "He's done it before, and Teddy nearly broke his nose, so he was too cowardly to say it in front of him." She hesitated."You know what a sore point his family is with Teddy. Anyone says anything against them, and they can expect a fight."

"I know," said Neville, managing to communicate maximum disapproval with some sympathy in only two words. "But that doesn't explain why you were threatening Mr. Forsyth."

"Brendan Forsyth is a cowardly git," Victoire said crisply, sitting up even straighter if that were possible and managing somehow to sound very like her Uncle Ron while simultaneously doing her mother's elocution lessons proud. "I told him not to say nasty things about Teddy, or at least to have the guts to say them to Teddy's face and take the consequences, and he laughed and said Teddy needed a girl to look after him- actually he pronounced it _guuur-uurrl_, you know, Professor, in that way that frankly deserves Aunt Ginny's best Bat Bogey -and called me 'Lupin's little girlfriend'. All his friends laughed too," she reflected, acquiring a glint in her eye that suggested all Brendan Forsyth's friends would shortly be regretting it.

Neville decided to pass over the disturbing glint. "And?" he prompted.

"So I decided to make him shut up before Teddy found out he was saying things like that," Victoire obliged. "Because then Teddy would have two reasons to fight him, and Brendan Forsyth's taller and stronger than Teddy, plus he wouldn't fight fair, so Teddy would get hurt and I didn't want that. Also, I was angry with him. If I reported him to someone, to you or to his Head of House, nothing would change. He'd get a slap on the wrist, nothing more, and taunt Teddy all the more because of it, call him a tale-teller and a wimp, but this way, he might not do it again. I don't like it when Teddy's upset. You can always tell- his hair goes that funny muddy brown and his skin gets paler and his eyes go brown, and he mopes and won't talk. He never lets anyone else see, he doesn't want them to know it gets to him, but I see it. Sometimes it makes him cry, when people throw those insults, and he's so cheerful and sweet the rest of the time, it's just..." Victoire flailed for words she could use in front of a teacher, and failed.

The kettle boiled with a shrill whistle and a nasal yell of 'Ah'm boiling! Ah'm boiling!', and Neville got up, glad of the diversion. He was seriously alarmed by this change in Victoire, who until recently he could have sworn was well-behaved, quiet and a teacher's dream to teach. She seemed to be pretty universally well-liked, excepting the likes of Brendan Forsyth.

_It's always the quiet ones_, Neville mused gloomily, pouring out the hot water. He was quite sure he would never be able to tell if Victoire was up to mischief; he was beginning to develop the suspicion that she got up to much more than he or any of the other teachers were aware of. She wouldn't lie directly, this Neville knew, because she never failed to turn an unbecoming shade of beetroot if pressed, so if she had been up to anything it would have been her teachers' trust which protected her. Neville felt a faint twinge of pride. When had been the last time a Hufflepuff had been this talented at skirting the rules? For Merlin's sake, popular opinion labelled them _duffers_.

He carried the tea back to the desk, Victoire taking her cup with muttered thanks, and sat back down again. "Informally, Victoire," he said, "would you have done this if Brendan Forsyth had said something like this about any of your other friends?"

Victoire said nothing, but the tips of her ears slowly turned pink.

"I thought so," Neville said wearily. Oh, dear. He had enough trouble with seventh-years and their boyfriends. Surely fourth-years with crushes should be less of a problem? Then again, normal fourth-years weren't Victoire. Teddy was in the year above, but Neville couldn't see that bothering Victoire.

"Look," he tried, "does Teddy know you're defending him?"

"I haven't done it before," Victoire said.

"Oh. Right." Neville tried to think of an appropriate response to this, or indeed a fitting punishment. "Well, er... Don't do it again, all right?"

"Aren't you going to take points off? Or give me a detention?" Victoire asked without thinking, startled, and then clapped a hand over her mouth.

Neville experienced a quandary. He disliked Brendan Forsyth, was well aware of how upset such talk made Teddy, didn't want Teddy to get in any more fights and knew that Victoire hadn't actually hurt Brendan before he'd caught her, but also knew that she had undoubtedly been about to inflict some damage, probably in a very Hufflepuff-ly thorough and methodical fashion. Then the clock caught his eye- past curfew –and he was struck with inspiration. Perhaps he could find out just how good at sneaking round the school Victoire really was, _if _she was. He looked pointedly at the clock, and Victoire twisted to look too. "Five minutes past nine. If you get caught on your way back to the common room, you'll get points taken off by whoever catches you, but I won't take points. Understand?"

Victoire nodded, and was out of her chair and by the door in seconds.

"Off you go then," Neville said, and watched her slip out.

Only when he was sure she'd gone did he pull the thing that had fallen from her pocket when she was busy terrorising Brendan Forsyth out of his robes pocket. It was small, folded in half to fit in her pocket, a little creased and worn around the edges, but –judging by the date on the back- had been taken only last summer at The Burrow, and featured Teddy in a blue Quidditch jersey, his hair blue as it was when he was relaxed and happy, with his arm around Victoire, who was wearing a yellow sleeveless shirt and also had her arm slung round Teddy's shoulders. They were both laughing and waving at the camera.

And Victoire had been keeping this in her pocket for Merlin only knew how long. Oh dear.

He flung a pinch of Floo powder into the fire, watched the flames roar up and turn green, and said loudly and clearly: "Elly?"

The house elf hopped through the fire and said "Yes, Professor Longbottom?"

Neville handed her the little photograph. "Can you leave this on Victoire Weasley's bed? It belongs to her. She's in fourth year, Hufflepuff. Don't let her or any of her dorm-mates see it, she probably doesn't know she's lost it yet."

Elly nodded eagerly, turned on her heel and vanished.

Neville sat back in his chair, folded his arms and stared at the cooling mint tea. Professor McGonagall would probably approve of his tactics, but he didn't think he was going to mention this particular incident in the staffroom yet.

He chuckled, and shook his head. Judging by what Neville had seen of Teddy's behaviour towards Victoire- which was quite a lot; they were frequently together outside of lessons, and in hindsight Neville thought he detected protectiveness on Victoire's part –he was completely oblivious.

Judging by Victoire's behaviour tonight, that wouldn't last long.


End file.

Harry Potter