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My Favorite Underwear by wicKeDwitch1316
Chapter 1 : My Favorite Underwear
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 12

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Disclaimer: I do not own either of the two characters; they belong to J.K. Rowling. The lyrics to the song are from Favorite by Liz Phair.

My Favorite Underwear

Don't look sexy but it just feels right
Not too dirty and it's not too tight
Why I never threw it out, I'll never know exactly why

Victoire’s soft silk kimono was loosely hanging on her thin body. Steam was still emanating from the open bathroom door and there were tiny droplets of moisture lingering on her skin. Her shimmering blonde hair was haphazardly piled on the top of her head. As she rummaged furiously through her closet, her eyes kept drifting back towards her bed.

No,’ she thought sternly to herself. ‘Don’t be silly.

She turned her attention back towards her extensive wardrobe. There were a multitude of beautiful dresses and plenty of alluring lingerie. However, none of them seemed to be what Victoire was looking for. Even the red slip siren dress looked pale and dowdy when she thought about the night she had planned.

She was going to see Teddy for the first time in weeks. The last time they had been together, in the completely literal sense, had been at her grandparents’ house for a hurried Sunday dinner. She had been accosted by her teenage cousins and he had had to run out early for work.

They had barely touched each other during the few hours they had spent in each other’s company that night. He had been seated on the other end of the table, so there had been no secret handholding or seductive games of footsies under the table. In fact, they had had practically no interaction save a few smoldering looks that made Victoire hot and bothered for hours afterwards.

Keep it in the drawer beside my bed
It's faded pink now, but it used to be red
Starting to fray at the seams, but I know that you'll still love me
Like you did, like you did
Like before, like before
Like we will, like we will
Be doin' it once more

Subconsciously, her eyes were drawn back to the drawer next to her bed. It was her personal drawer filled with an assortment of naughty goodies. Her mother would simply die of embarrassment if she ever opened that drawer by mistake. Her father would have a brain aneurysm at the thought of his little girl coming in contact with objects of that nature. However, it had been a convenient spot to keep her guilty pleasures and so she had kept them there.

Besides, the only people who ever had a need to go through anything in her bedroom were her and Teddy. She, obviously, had no problem with what she kept in there; on the contrary, they never failed to make her feel sexy and wanted. Whenever Teddy went through that drawer, Victoire felt pleasant chills all over her body because she knew she was going to be very happy that night…or morning…or afternoon. It didn’t really matter to either of them.

Oddly enough, what she deemed the best component of that drawer was what most people would consider the chastest. It had been her “sexy” underwear back at Hogwarts: the one she wore on first dates and when she was trying to impress a boy. It was the pair of underwear she never wore without a light pad for fear of it getting ruined by her period.

When she had received it as a gift by a giggling pair of friends, it had been devil red with an intricate design of lace. They had all laughed at the diminutive amount of material then, but now it was one of the most modest panties she owned. She only wore it on occasions, not out of vanity, but out of respect for the underwear. Victoire was terrified that the threads would simply unravel one day out of old age, so she only kept them as a token of her youth.

Oh baby know what you’re like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
Oh baby know how you feel?
You feel like my favorite underwear
And I'm slipping you on again tonight

She couldn’t possibly put them on tonight, although they would make her feel unbelievably sexy. She and Teddy had been having sex for ages…and it wasn’t any sort of anniversary for them—she had checked, desperate to find an excuse to wear the underwear. Despite her amazing talent for making up excuses, she had been unable to think of even the most flimsy one for this occasion.

Deciding to forgo underwear for the time being, Victoire pulled a deep blue dress off its hanger. Roughly yanking it up, she examined herself critically in the full-length mirror that stood across from her closet. At once, every flaw of hers seemed to be emphasized. Her shoulders looked hunched, her skin gray, and her boobs looked like mosquito bites. No wonder Teddy hadn’t gone out of his way to sleep with her: she looked like a damn paper doll—a pasty, white, prepubescent paper doll.

Victoire whipped out her wand from her nearby bag and began her alterations on the dress. The hemline went up to her mid-thigh and the empire waist squeezed in to make her look like she actually possessed breasts. There was nothing she could do about her unnatural skin tone at the moment; she would just have to work wonders with her makeup.

She peered at herself again in the mirror and was devastated when she could not summon the aura of self-confidence that she loved about herself. She could see the reflection of the drawer and it was cruelly mocking her. The newly waxed skin in her bikini area itched from direct contact with the dress. If the skin could talk, Victoire imagined it would be saying, ‘I need the underwear! I need the underwear!”

She rolled her eyes at the childish high-pitched voice she had designated her bikini-area skin. When you imagined your body parts talking to you, that meant you could give in to your temptations, right? Because talking to your body was certainly not healthy.

Finally choosing her sanity, Victoire marched over and slammed the drawer open. The first thing her gaze fell on was the panties. She quickly picked them up and slid them up her milky white thighs. Returning to the mirror, she was gratified to see that, almost instantaneously, her reflection had improved. The dress suddenly seemed to fit better around her minute curves and the color of her skin had brightened remarkably. She found that she was able to smile, even to practice the flirtatious smirk that drove Teddy crazy.

Everything would be alright.

Leave you lyin' on the bedroom floor
I leave you hangin' on the bathroom door
Take you for granted, but I'll always know exactly where you are

Teddy was waiting downstairs in her kitchen. He had let himself in before calling up to her. They spent so many nights at each others’ flats that it was as if they each owned with two homes. He hadn’t expected her to be ready; she had a habit of being fashionably late for everything. Truth be told, she was technically ready to go. But she knew that anticipation would only heighten the night, so she remained in her room, spritzing on her favorite scent.

It was strange that after all these years, the thought of Teddy Lupin in her house made her feel jittery and warm all over. They had been together for quite a while—her family never ceased to throw pointed stares in their direction, especially her Great-Auntie Miriam who even went so far as to ask Teddy what was wrong with him for not proposing at a family gathering—and she tended to take him and their sex life for granted at times.

At school, everybody had always joked that she was too flighty to be able to stay with a man for long. Victoire had always argued that they hadn’t any evidence to back up the claim—her few boyfriends had all been long-term—but had always secretly feared being commitment-phobic. However, there was something comforting about knowing that Teddy would always be there. It was odd that she found his steadiness sexy, when she had always admired the bad boys for the spontaneity.

But she could never be bored with Teddy. The electricity that flowed between them every time they were in a room together could set her body on fire; and she often felt like he had. While many of her girlfriends cautioned her at being so deeply invested in such a physically relationship. Victoire knew that it was different with Teddy. They shared the same sense of humor, which kept them both entertained at family gatherings. His deeply thoughtful side kept her tendency to vanity from taking over.

He was one of the few people in the world who could ever draw her into a heated political debate; his ideas intrigued her, and drew the same passion from her mind that he drew from her body. She was so convinced that he was her Prince Charming, that Victoire never felt the need to want a happily ever after (her Grandpa had insisted on reading her Muggle fairy tales when she was a child—and they had stuck, despite her mother’s desperate tries to wean her off of them).

Lost you once you were hard to find
Got you back you didn't look like mine
Thought we were falling apart but you make me feel so pretty
Like you did, like you did
Like before, like before
Like we will, like we will
Be doin' it once more

After waiting a sufficient amount of time, Victoire stood up and slowly walked into the dark hall of her flat. Teddy looked up at the exact moment when the lights from the kitchen hit her. His eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise. Victoire stopped at the edge of the room and sent him a challenge gaze.

Silently, he got up and crossed the expanse of the kitchen in as few steps as possible. He swept her up into a passionate embrace. “You—look—amazing” he murmured, as he pressed his lips against her skin, kissing her neck, her chin, her eyelids—anywhere except her eager lips.

“How amazing?” she gasped, trying to direct his mouth to hers. He captured her hands in his, interlocking the fingers. Victoire moaned in pleasure when he pressed his pelvis to hers and she could feel his taut body along her entirety. The reality was ten—no a hundred!—times better than even the most graphic of dreams she’d been having lately.

“Amazing enough to make me asking you if you would mind it if we skipped dinner,” he whispered, letting go of one of her hands so he could run it down the bare skin on her back.

“Yes,” Victoire breathed, her fingers tracing his firm chest.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, it’s a good thing because I didn’t cook anything,” she answered as he turned his attention to her neck and breasts. His hands were now roaming anxiously, one even slipping up her dress to caress her thighs.

His low chuckle sent tingles around her navel. “Planning on seducing me, were you? Calling me here on false pretenses?”

“No,” Victoire grinned, her eyes shut in reverie. “Planning on taking you on the kitchen counter—then against the wall in the corridor—then the shower door—”

Teddy cut her off by pressing his mouth against hers; his lips moving hungrily.

“Had to shut you up before you made me lose it,” he muttered when they finally broke for air.

“That was the poin—mmm!” He pulled her even closer to him.

Oh baby know what you’re like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
Oh baby know how you feel?
You feel like my favorite underwear
And I'm slipping you on again tonight
Slipping you on again tonight
Wrap me and roll me, hold me tight
Tear me apart and make me new
Like you always do

They made their way to the bedroom, knocking into various objects on the way. Behind them, lay a trail of discarded clothing: Teddy’s shirt, Victoire’s bra.

He lay her on the bed, naked except for the pair of panties. He smiled when he saw them. “So you finally put them on?”

“Just for you to take off,” she whispered, pulling him back down for a heated, open-mouthed kiss.

His hands slid up her legs, feeling the smooth skin, now with a slight layer of perspiration.

He hooked his fingers around the band and pulled them off of her, slowly and deliberately.

Oh baby know what you’re like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it

Their bodies moved in a haze of sweat and delight.

Every touch was confident and sure; there was no unfamiliar territory. He knew every crevice and pleasure point on her body.

His every movement was flawless.

You feel you're like this is what I want
You feel, you feel

Every stroke of his hand felt like both fire and ice on her skin. The only emotion her mind could register was want. She wanted him.

Oh baby know what you’re like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it

They became further entwined within each other. Their bodies were in perfect sync.

You feel you're like this is what I want
You feel, you feel

During the subsequent, momentary, lull, all Victoire could think was, ‘God, this feels right.’

Slipping you on again tonight

A/N: I’ve been obsessed with this song, and this scene came to me the first time I heard it. I hope you like it!

Chapter image by Hongily at The Dark Mark.

Don’t forget to leave a review!

Edited: On Nov. 26, 2008 to insert chapter image and to fix a typo.

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