Chapter 2 : Relationships
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I didn’t speak to Victoire the whole summer, really. I saw her once or twice, but, by some unspoken agreement, we both avoided one another by engaging our other relatives in conversation. And we were both okay with that. I mean, I wouldn’t say we were both ecstatic about our “sexual tension,” but neither of us really wanted to talk about it. Mainly because, as I’d learned on the train ride home, she’d broken up with her boyfriend because of it.
I still didn’t know whether he was angry and had found out and broken it off with her, or if she’d decided she liked it and broke if off with him. I was more inclined to believe it was the former, but I hoped like hell that it might’ve been the latter. I wasn’t any closer to knowing over the course of the summer, though.
Instead, it was shoved out of my mind by the extreme fear that I had for the year ahead. I mean, I never was a particularly great student, so my N.E.W.T.’s were definitely not something I was looking forward to. I was excited, however, for my education to finally come to a close. It had been too long, of course it had.
I met with my friends on the platform and we’d had the most enjoyable ride to Hogwarts I’d ever experienced. I couldn’t even tell you what we’d done, but I can remember that feeling, the utter bliss before the dread of schoolwork set in and tied your stomach in knots. But it didn’t matter. Because the school was mine for one more year, and I could still have a home for a time.
My hair was turquoise and I have no idea why I remember that. But it was that day. And she seemed to like it, as she complimented it when she sat down across from me at breakfast one morning. Neither of us had any friends around, they were all still asleep. I meant to get in a lengthy run around the grounds; I needed to get rid of Ginny’s meals before Quidditch picked back up. I didn’t know why she was up.
We ate in relative silence. There still wasn’t much to talk about, or, at least, not much we wanted to talk about. It was hard to avoid certain subjects if you talked comfortably, the way you’d want to. Thus, we were stiff in our manners and conversation. She looked at me curiously as I stood to leave.
“Where’re you off to?” She asked, trying to sound completely uncaring as to what I was doing. But I knew she was interested. She had to be interested.
“A run around the lake,” I replied, watching her reactions with interest. She tried to keep her face impassive, to make it seem like she didn’t care, wasn’t interested, but I could tell she wanted to come. So, I asked her to. She grinned, jumping up to follow me the moment after she’d secured her hair in a sideways ponytail.
The fresh air hit me like an adrenaline rush. I looked at her with a lopsided grin, which she returned. There was an unspoken challenge between us, we were racing. She took off before I’d had the chance to think which direction we should go. But it didn’t take me too long to catch her. I’d grabbed her about the middle, and she’d twisted around, grinning at me, though we were both breathing hard and fighting to regain our oxygen.
“I’m so out of shape,” I muttered through a husky breath. She gave an involuntary shudder as she felt my breath hitting her neck. I laughed.
“Why’d it take you so long?” She smiled at me. I thought we were talking about how long it took me to catch her, until she kissed me.
And that made it official.
We were the biggest couple to ever hit Hogwarts, definitely. Everyone was jealous of one of us, if not both. We were what people talked about, the people that most tried to impress. Everyone loved us.
For my part, I found it incredibly interesting that I was perfectly contented with a relationship. I didn’t tend to date for longer than a month, I was used to snogging someone whenever we both wanted to. But for some reason that year I was just fine with only one pair of lips finding mine every night.
Victoire was my learning experience. She taught me how to be that perfect guy all the time, and I learned a few tricks on how to keep everything running smoothly. For instance, whenever she’d be upset with me, if I just offered an apology and changed my hair color to turquoise, everything seemed to be good. She also managed to teach me how to avoided the unwanted attention that the pair of us were infamous for receiving.
We were in the common room one night, I was working on something, probably a Quidditch play, and she was sprawled across the length of the couch with her head in my lap. I was lazy playing with the golden curls that adorned her head when she sighed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, knowing that often times sighs were a bad thing.
“You stress out too much over Quidditch,” she replied, sitting up, but leaving her hand on my leg.
“It’s my last year, I’ve got to stress out,” I answered with a smile. She shook her head, curls flying every which way, which reminded me. “Why do you curl your hair?” She starred at me for a moment, at a loss for where the question came from. “I mean, I just know that it’s naturally straight, so…”
“Curly hair makes it less noticeable that I’ve got Veela blood,” she answered. She bit her lip, which caused me to have difficulty concentrating on what she was saying, “It makes me less attractive.”
“That’s debatable,” I murmured lightly as I lifted a strand. She looked away with a smile overthrowing her face, while her hand swatted mine away. “What?” I questioned with a face mirroring hers.
“Of course you’d think that,” she shook her head, leaning in close to me, “But that’s why I love you.” She kissed me afterwards. I shrugged when she pulled back.
“So, how shall I make myself less attractive, do you think?” I asked, my hair already going through a range of colors as I asked. She laughed at me, telling me not to worry about it. “Oh, so now you’re saying I’m not attractive?”
“I never said that, Teddy,” she stated. “If you’re going to be persistent, though…” I looked at her with puppy dog eyes, which were relatively close to becoming literal. “You could just make your skin look terrible. And then probably top it off with some mousy brown hair, ugh, stop it!”
“Sorry,” I laughed, changing back to my normal features. I had been following her words, changing as she spoke. She bit her lip again, and then I couldn’t resist. I was thinking several impure thoughts while I let my lips overthrow hers, and I could feel her grin against my own.
Maybe, looking back now, that was the moment I should have realized that we weren’t meant to last. The fact that she couldn’t love me if I changed from my usual features, however playful it had been. But I didn’t. We went on after that. We even when on after nosy little James Potter caught us snogging on the train in Victoire’s seventh year. We went on until she’d graduated. She got a job, and things happened, and we ended.
Just like that, it was over.
So, uh, chapter two. Hm. The part about her hair didn’t play out exactly like I’d been expecting it to, so…good or bad? What do you think about the relationship? It probably didn’t last long enough, though, hm…? But I have gotten to the firsts of the things he learned...kinda. Uh, yeah.
But do keep it in mind that it’s a short, short story.
-Riddle Wood Lupin
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