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v a n i l l a ♥ t w i l i g h t by dream_BIG
Chapter 1 : Waldo the Giant Squid is my Lover
 
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Hi, guysies! So, here I am (again) with another story! Don't you just love how, instead of studying for midterms, I spend my time writing to alleviate the stress? I do. 
So, this is my second Teddy/Victoire, but my first story that focuses solely on their relationship, and I must say...I rather like it. 
***THIS IS DEDICATED TO TIFFANY_NICOLE***
That was in all caps because it's the most important thing to get across on this author's note :)
Hi love! Happy birthday :) Okay, I know that this is super-early, but I wanted to make sure it was out before your birthday because of...you know, the queue and stuff.
And I also really liked the banner I made. Did you get surprised? I knew it. All those sucky banners I sent you...HA! ALL PLOYS!
And that online quiz told me I was a Gryffindor. Ha. With my cleverness?! I guess my loyalty and bravery (:D) wins out ;)

IMPORTANT!
Okay, maybe not so important. I just wanted everyone else's attention :P
All of these characters are based off of real people in my life (who I don't own. They own themselves).
NOTE: BASED OFF OF. These story characters will do and say things that the real people haven't said or done. I just thought it would be more realistic...
Victoire is me...except blonder and prettier (duh...all of my main characters are)
Maddy is Maddy (almost exactly)
Teddy is based off my family friend. We sort of have the same relationship, except without the blatant dislike...and I am almost 100% sure that he's not in love with me. And he doesn't do any manwhoring. He does have a ton of girls after him, though.
Nick is Maddy's perfect guy, who, as of now, doesn't exist :/
Claire is another best friend of mine :)
Peter is, thankfully, just my imagination

Note: Green Eggs and Ham belongs, not to me, but to Dr. Seuss
(who is the greatest rapper of all time)
If someone understood that, I love you.

DISCLAIMER: Victoire is blonde. Artemis is blonde. Adele is blonde. Jo is blonde. dream_BIG is not blonde.
You do the math.













chapter image by moi!


V I C T O I R E . W E A S L E Y






People are always telling me that me and Teddy Lupin are a match made in heaven.






Please excuse me while I laugh.






HA!






Like that would ever happen.






Let me give you a short anecdote to prove my point, okay? This was our first meeting:






We were both three years old and it was the first time we had ever met at a family event. Teddy seemed hell-bent on figuring out the wonders of blonde hair (oooh, aaah), and kept on tugging on my pigtail as if that would somehow enlighten him.






Here’s the general gist of what happened: he pulled my hair. I pulled his hair. He screamed. I screamed louder. He slapped me. I slapped him. He burst into loud tears. I burst into loud tears.






Oh, yes. There’s a first meeting that every girl dreams of! That just proves that we were meant to be!






Not.






The truth: We hate each other. Victoire Weasley hates Teddy Lupin. Teddy Lupin hates Victoire Weasley. That’s how it’s always been, ever since we were three. And it’s going to stay that way. No matter what people say.






They’re all idiots, anyway. I mean, you’d have to have some pretty severe mental damage done to your brain if you somehow believe that we’re going to grow up and get married someday. If that ever happens, it means either:






a) The world is ending.






b) It’s not us






c) Teddy Lupin was the last man on earth, and in the choice between him and the Giant Squid, I (grudgingly) chose him. And that’s only because I can hold my breath under water for just a minute. Otherwise it definitely would have been Waldo (the Squid).






d) You’re dreaming.






or e) We’ve been imperiused.






Yes, really. That’s how much I hate him. With a strong, fiery, burning passion.






It’s just…he’s too perfect. Like, he has his flaws, of course (I could spend days listing them), but everyone loves Teddy Lupin. End of. Everyone loves him. He’s like, Hogwarts Playboy and Hogwarts Golden Boy all rolled up in one, blue-haired person. He’s immensely popular. I guess when your parents were war heroes, your dad was an original Marauder as well as a werewolf, and your mom was a metamorphus, people start to think that you’re really interesting. Girls love him. Teachers love him. Hell, even some guys love him.






All except for me.






I see right through that perfect-ness. Right through that perfectly messy blue hair and those smoldering honey brown eyes. Right through that extremely attractive face, and body…what? I’m a girl. I’ve got hormones. I notice things.






I’m not even going to lie: there is only one person who can pull off blue hair and still look extremely attractive. That person is Teddy Lupin.






Don’t tell anyone I said that.






“OI! WEASLEY, LUPIN! LET’S GO!”






And those would be the lovely dulcet tones of my Quidditch Captain, Anthony Wood, who really needs to understand that a girl, when on her period, is simply incapable of running eight laps around the Quidditch pitch without getting killer cramps.






Which is the reason that I’m curled up on the ground right now, clutching my middle and moaning, Lupin standing over me unsurely. I mean, there’s not much he can do without his fellow beater, so he’s making himself useful by standing there.






Notice the sarcasm.






“Argh.” I moaned. “I can’t do it. Cramps. Craaaaaaaamps.”






“She’s got cramps.” I heard Lupin explain to Anthony, who was stomping over to us, fuming.






“Well, tell her to suck it up! Be a man!” He cried, also standing over me.






“That’s the thing. I’m not. Which explains why I have these horrid cramps in the first place.” I glared up at him.






His eyes widened in realization. “Oh.” He said. “Oh.”






“Yeah, oh.” I nodded, smirking. God, I love making boys feel awkward by mentioning my period. They get all weird and then they let you do whatever you want.






“Well, um…yeah…you don’t have to do the laps…just…yeah…well…batting cage.” He managed to get out. Then, face bright red, he walked away really quickly, as if I was contagious or something.






Grinning, I shot up and waved my wand over myself to help with the cramps.






“You were lying, weren’t you?” Lupin asked me, eyes narrowed.






“Nope.” I responded. Then, I walked towards the batting cage and stepped in, swinging the bat that Anthony had bought just for us. It was a muggle bat, I could tell you that much. They used it in this one muggle game where you hit the ball with the bat and then run. It’s mad boring. I can’t believe how bland the muggle world is.






The world, quite frankly, would implode of boredom if it wasn’t for Quidditch.






“Well, are you just going to stand there, or what? Let’s go, Weasley!” Lupin said impatiently from next to me. Shooting him a death glare, I tapped the machine with my wand and balls started flying towards us. I started hitting them away from me, trying to get them as far away as possible.






You wanna know the trick I use? I pretend they’re actually Lupin’s head.






Thwack. There goes his beautiful face. Thwack. Wow, that probably hurt. Hee hee. Thwack. You get the picture.






“What have they ever done to you?” He asked, as I sent one flying fifty feet away with a resounding crack.






I merely grunted at him, swinging madly at another ball. Unfortunately, Lupin was swinging at the same time, and he’s left-handed…and well, the bats collided. Hard. Vibrations spread up my arm painfully as I dropped the bat.






“OW! You idiot!” I yelled, clutching my arm.






“That was your fault. What are you, blind?” He shot back, also massaging his own arm.






“Don’t fucking mess with me, Lupin. That was your fault.” I growled.






“Are you daft? That wasn’t my fault at all. You dumb blonde.” He sneered. Oi. Let’s not bring the hair into this.






“I’d rather be a dumb blonde over a manwhore any day.” I retorted coldly.






His face looked like it was carved from ice. “What did you call me?” He asked in a dangerous voice.






“A. MAN. WHORE.” I enunciated each word clearly, right up in his face.






“Take it back.” He said in that same dangerous voice.






“Make me.” I challenged, raising an eyebrow. 






“Take it back, you fucking bitch!” He took out his wand.






“Excellent.” I took my wand out, too. “Let’s watch Teddy bear get beaten up by Victoire again. Tell me, Teddy bear, how does it feel to get beat by a girl?” I asked smugly.






“Shut the fuck up.”






“No, I don’t think I will, actually.”






TALLANTELL –!”






“RICTUMSEM –!






“ENOUGH!”






A shield charm was cast between us, and the spells bounced harmlessly off. I looked over and saw Anthony with his wand pointed at us, looking thoroughly pissed off.






“This is it. You guys have fought for years, and it’s starting to get on everyone’s nerves. So, either forget about it on the pitch or get off the team.” He said angrily, glaring at us.






NO! I love Quidditch. I need to stay on this team!






Gahh. Alright, Tori, it’s not so hard, just swallow your pride and say those two simple words…






“I’m sorry.” I muttered resentfully to Lupin.






 “Yeah. I’m sorry too.” He muttered back.






“See?” Anthony smirked. “Was that so hard?”






Yes. “No.” I said resignedly.






“Good. Now, get back to practice.” He smiled at us once and then left. I made a face at his back, and then turned around to the batting cage again.






“Just stay out of my way.” I hissed to Lupin, eyes narrowed.






“You stay out of mine.” He hissed back.






“Fine.”






Fine.”






“Good.”






Good.”






Stupid Lupin.






Well, on the plus side, this was actually one of our more peaceful fights! No one got hurt this time! Yay for us!






Thwack. DIE, Lupin’s face. Mwah ha ha.






T E D D Y . L U P I N






Alright, I have a confession to make.






I have a temporary, highly embarrassing, temporary, absolutely mortifying, TEMPORARY crush on Victoire Weasley.






…okay, well, I’ve had one since I was three.






And it’s been…about thirteen years, so I guess this doesn’t classify as ‘temporary’, per se…






But yeah. I’m sort of, kind of, maybe, crushing on her. Just a bit.






She’s just…that sort of girl you like right away, you know? She has this long, silvery-blonde hair, vivid blue eyes, a bloody perfect body…she’s beautiful. Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.






It doesn’t help that she’s part veela. Not one bit. It makes her even more irresistible. And, unfortunately, I mean that it makes her irresistible to everyone.






Do you know how hard it is to go on pretending to hate the one girl you really like?






Here’s a hint: It’s very hard.






And do you know how hard it is to not to beat up blokes for even looking at her?






Here’s another hint: even harder.






And do you know how painful it is to know that she HATES you with Every. Fucking. Last. Pore. In. Her. Body?






Very. Fucking. Painful.






I feel for Harry’s dad, I really do. That poor bloke, having to go through rejection every five minutes…






But in the end, he got the girl! That’s what I’m hoping for here.






Wow. That sounded even more stupidly naïve than I thought it would.






I’m pretty sure Victoire would rather pick the Giant Squid (which she has fondly dubbed ‘Waldo’) over me.






Which, if you think about it, is extremely pathetic.






She fancies a deformed, mutant sea creature over me.






Nice.






Do you hear that weird crunching sound?






Well, that’s my self-esteem getting steamrolled over with one of those HUGE muggle contraptions.






See? It’s all flat and dead-looking.






That’s what Victoire does to me. I know that every girl in the school wants me (I’ve been told countless times in broom cupboards, abandoned classrooms, empty corridors…etc…), but it doesn’t make a difference to me if that one girl doesn’t.






And she doesn’t. Which is why I resort to snogging random girls to ease the pain.






Don’t tell anyone, but I actually pretend that they’re her. And it honestly hurts when I open my eyes and I realize that they aren’t.






Wow. I’m pathetic. I need mental help.






No. I need Victoire. I need her to be mine. Or at least to tolerate me a little.






I still hear her cold, angry, disgusted voice saying that word: manwhore.






Just stab me through the heart, why don’t you?






(again).






It’s just…I can’t help it. I can’t help but completely piss her off. It seems like it’s the only time she’ll ever look at me, when her eyes are flashing in anger and passion (I wish it was the right kind, but I, unfortunately, mean passionate HATE). Otherwise she’ll just pretend I’m not there. Trust me, I know. I’ve spent a great deal of my life staring at her, and I know that she hasn’t even glanced. Not once.






Sometimes I make myself really mad. I mean, here I am, acting like a complete prick, when in actuality, I’m crazy for this girl. And I act like I hate her, so she acts like she hates me, and it all just turns into one, big hate-fest that leaves her hating me even more.






I should try to be fixing this, I really should.






But her eyes, when she’s mad. I love how they flash. I love it. And I can’t help but want to see that over and over again.






Because they’re flashing at me. And I love it.






But, maybe, it would be best, for the mental and physical well-being of us and those around us, to make those eyes flash with something else instead of hate. I should at least try to be civil.






…Nah.






But, seriously, if I want to win her over, I’m going to have to do something.






I have a little too much Marauder pride in me, though. I just can’t back off. If she says something about me, I’ll say something right back, god damn it! You can’t judge a guy for being defensive.






Although now that I look back on it, I might have been a little harsh. With all the cursing and stuff.






Merlin, I really should try something else.






I can’t take Peter Henry’s way, that’s for sure (snort).






Oh. I should explain.






So, there are two people in this school who have an obsession over Victoire that rivals the obsession James Potter had for Lily Evans (with all due respect…let me take the time to put one hand to my heart and send my gaze upwards…).






There’s me. The ‘secretly pining for the lady’ guy. Outwardly, I act like I hate her. Inside…it’s a whole different story.






And then there’s Peter Henry (snort). He acts like James Potter, the lovesick idiot.






Which basically, means that he asks her out every five minutes, usually in extremely creative and highly disturbing ways.






Like, that one time, when he presented a scrapbook to her. Wanna know what was in it? Let me tell you the first page: it was a picture of Victoire, next to a picture of Peter, with something along the lines of ‘marry me’ written across the top.






Oh, but it gets worse.






The next picture was a picture of Victoire, sleeping in a bed.






Yes, people, Peter Henry sneaked up to the girl’s dormitory, crept into Victoire Weasley’s room, watched her sleep for a bit, and then took a picture.






If that doesn’t prove that Peter Henry is creepiness incarnate, I don’t know what does.






He’s paving the way for stalkers everywhere, he is.






I didn’t get to see the third page, because this was about when Victoire turned paper-white, shrieked ‘STALKER!!’ at the top of her lungs whilst pointing accusingly at him, and then sprinted outside to chuck the book into the lake, screaming in genuine fear as she went.






And then she came back and yelled at him. I don’t remember what it was about, but I can tell you that I memorized the exact color and shape of her perfect lips that day.






In case any of you wanted to know, her lips are the color of pink roses. Except shinier. And a whole lot plumper. And really, really perfect…






It makes me angry to think about the fact that Peter Henry also spent his time staring at those lips.






I don’t like it when people look at what’s mine. Not. One. Bit.






“Ahem!”






Well, speak…er, think of the devil and the devil shall appear.






Peter Henry. Who appears to be…as it seems, climbing up on the table and tapping a spoon against a cup to get everyone’s attention.






Merlin, what is that bloke doing?






“Thank you,” He said, once the chatter had died down. Everyone was staring at him in mild fascination. “I would like to take the moment to sing a song I have composed for my beloved Victoire Weasley.” I glanced at said Victoire Weasley. Her face was a deep, bright red, and she was slowly sinking further and further under the table.






Peter cleared his throat, shot a bright smile at Victoire’s forehead, and then took out a piece of paper.






“Hit it, David!” He said, pointing at a random Hufflepuff. David The Random Hufflepuff took out a violin and started making these odd, screechy noises that I’m assuming were supposed to resemble music.






Peter cleared his throat again and opened his mouth.






Ha. I bet this is good. I leaned back in my seat to listen, a smirk playing at my lips.






V I C T O I R E . W E A S L E Y






This cannot be happening.






Please let it be a horrible, horrible nightmare, and when I wake up, everything will be okay and Peter will have disappeared off the face of the planet. Please.






While I’m at it, I’d also like a unicorn.






…and some brownies. Yeah, brownies are sounding great right about now.






Peter cleared his throat again.






Aw, god, no.






PLEASE! HAVE MERCY ON ME, GOD!






Your eyes shine like a million stars






Your skin is like creamy milk,” Peter warbled in a ridiculous voice.






Gah! He calls that singing?!






That is the single worst thing I have ever heard, and that’s saying a lot, because I’m currently being tortured by that ‘violin’ playing in the background.






Merlin hates me.






Please be mine,






You’re so divine.






Victoire Weasley, in my mind you shine.”






 Someone, kill me.






No, seriously. Do it. Please.






Every time I see your face my heart feels like a…






…Stampeding crowd of animals,






Racing through the park,






Who wrote those lyrics? His pet owl?!






“So Victoire, oh Victoire, I love you with all my heart,






Be mine, please, be mine.






You’ll always stay with me in my heart.”






He stretched out the last note, his voice cracking horribly at the end, and then bowed a couple of times to the wild applause that had broken out in the Great Hall.






Pick up your wand. Do it.






Good. Okay, ready?






Point at me. Right there. Yes. Right at my heart. Perfect.






Uh-huh. Now, take a deep, calming breath, and say ‘Avada Kedavra.’






Come on, say it.






What – you know it’s the killing spell?






No, no, it isn’t! It makes the embarrassment go away, that’s all.






Really. Promise.






What do you look like to me?






Well, I can’t tell exactly, but…you refuse to do it?!






Aw, come on, why?!






Fine. You suck.






“That is so creepy.” I heard Maddy say from above me in a scared voice.






I agree. Strongly.






“Tori! Get out from under there!” Claire added.






“NO!” I said.






“Tori, come on…it wasn’t so bad.” Maddy consoled. “It was a tad creepy, yes, and really badly sung…and the lyrics were absolute shit…aw, who am I kidding?! It was that bad. I am so glad that I’m not you right now.”






Gee, thanks, Maddy. Really. Your sympathy means so much to me.






“Tori, come on.” Claire wheedled. “There’s cheesecake!”






“Cheesecake?!” Immediately, I popped out from under the table, face glowing.






You know what? Absolute and utter mortification can wait. I need my cheesecake!






YES! One slice left! It’s mine!






Almost there…almost…almost…






“So, what did you think?”






Crash.






I whipped around and stood up, shattering about half the plates around me as my hand slammed against the table. I should explain. I’m part werewolf. I have freakish werewolf strength that shows its ugly face when I’m pissed.






…and that should explain everything.






“WHAT. WERE. YOU. THINKING?!” I shrieked at Peter, who was grinning broadly at me as if he had done something worthy of the Nobel Prize.






“So, you liked it?” He asked hopefully.






“NO I DID NOT BLOODY LIKE IT! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!? HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO YELL TO GET YOU TO UNDERSTAND?! I. DO. NOT. WANT. TO. GO. OUT. WITH. YOU!” I screamed. His grin slid off his face.






“NOT TODAY, NOT TOMORROW, NO, NOT EVEN THE DAY AFTER THAT! NOT WITH A CAT, NOT WITH A HAT, NOT EVEN WITH FLIPPIN’ GREEN EGGS AND FLIPPIN’ HAM! I DON’T WANT TO DATE YOU!”






Wow. I’m quoting Muggle children’s literature.






Aunt Hermione would be proud.






“I WILL NEVER GO OUT WITH YOU! EVER!! GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL, PETER HENRY! I’D RATHER DATE WALDO THAN GO OUT WITH YOU! HELL, I’D RATHER DATE LUPIN, AND THAT’S SAYING SOMETHING, SINCE I ABHOR THAT CHILD! THAT’S HOW MUCH I HATE YOU! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, NOW, BEFORE I DO SOMETHING I WILL REGRET!”






I was practically frothing at the mouth at this point.






Well, that’s what you get for messing with me. You mess with a Weasley, you get the temper. I may have not gotten the red hair (damn dominant veela genes), but I certainly have the hot head. And I’m not afraid to use it.






It also helps to be part werewolf and very, very dangerous when ticked off.






“Okay!” Peter said cheerfully, kissing me on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, love!”






I’m speechless.






Mouth agape, I stared after him as he strutted out of the Great Hall as if he owned the bloody place.






What did he – he just – temper – cheesecake – Lupin – red – WHAT THE FUCK?! ARGH!!






Muttering darkly to myself, I sat down on the bench again, ignoring the giggles around me. Maddy was poorly disguising her laughter as wild, hacking coughs, and Claire was rubbing my back soothingly, smiling in a serene way that I understood to mean that she was in hysterics on the inside.






Gahh. I hate my life.






And on top of that, the cheesecake is gone.






Great.






Just bloody fantastic.






Fuck my life.







You know what you should do now?
REVIEW.
But I'm not going to beg. Nope. I'm going to be a mature, poised, controlled young adul - 
OH, SCREW IT.
REVIEW! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE?!


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