Chapter 1 : Pink Eyes
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For this Challenge, Teddy had to be a Slytherin with light brown hair, who wanted to shoot flaming forks at someone with his wand ;) Thank you Katherine045!
It sometimes really sucks Pygmy Puffs when you have these increasingly intense feelings for someone, and they don’t return them. Actually, not sometimes...it’s pretty much eternal, soul destroyingly awful all the time. It’s like being eaten by a hippogriff that has flaming insides.
It also feels like you’re being bombarded with enormous beams of depression if the person is, has always been, and will always be your best friend. Who’s a Gryffindor. Who’s somebody that I can never possibly avoid because of the previously described friendship. And who’s somebody as amazing, perfect, kind, beautiful and special as Victoire Weasley-Delacour.
She’s a Gryffindor. I’m a Slytherin. She has a posh, stuck-up, pretty boy, burly boyfriend-Beater-on-the-Gryffindor-Quidditch-team. A guy that is so unutterably opposite from me that it turns my hair blue with rage and makes me want to shoot several sharp items of cutlery at him with my wand. Generally, the issue stops there. But not this time.
- - -
Of course, I wasn’t always the object of despair. Once upon a time, we were together. It would feel like a million years ago despite the fact that only one has passed. And it was great.
I had been visiting her Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, where they lived in the woods a few miles from The Burrow and only a Side-Along Apparition away from home in Godric’s Hollow. They lived in a cottage which was nestled nicely into the trees, so picturesque it was nearly indistinguishable from the undergrowth, but it was big enough for the family, and any visitors that may pop up unexpectedly.
I would generally follow Victoire wherever she goes for the holidays, as she has so many relatives it’s hard to keep track; sometimes she would stay with me at Harry’s, or with her parents at Shell Cottage, occasionally with her Aunt Gabrielle in France or with my Granna Andromeda, or with her Weasley grandparents. Our families are so intertwined it’s difficult to distinguish who’s related to whom.
Anyway, we were staying at The Cottage (Hermione insisted on such a simple name), and Victoire and I had been dispatched to dig up the potatoes that had been planted in the small allotment out in the back. Without magic, I may add. So you could say it was difficult to initiate a relationship with dirt in your hands, but I was due to leave for home the next day and back then my feelings for her were still turning my eyes pink without my knowledge, so I had to do something.
My heart had been hammering in my chest. Victoire was kneeling there before me- the sunset lighting up her auburn hair- grinning at me with her ‘what-are-you-up-to?’ questioning look. Her eyes shined, so beautiful they stunned me. I felt so stressed and twisted up that I could physically feel my hair growing longer and getting redder, reflecting the only sight I had in my mind. She burst out laughing at me, as if I’d done it on purpose.
You know what else sucks? Not being able to control your Metamorphmagi abilities; I personally don’t agree with people when they say that it’s amazing that I inherited a distinctive characteristic from my mother when I’ll never know her otherwise. It sometimes feels like the only things my parents have left me are a tendency for undercooked meat and a body that changes at the slightest whim or emotion. Okay, and a peaceful world. I actually prefer my hair plain and boring; the less amount of attention on me, the better.
Regardless of this, my newfound long, luscious locks had gotten her attention; it was my cue. I felt a crippling force catch in my throat as my hair receded back to its normal short, brown style, and I wished it all wasn’t so difficult.
“Vic-“ I began, but I felt something thin and hard jab into my back, and I instinctively threw my arms up in the air in surrender. The jabbing went away, and I turned to see little Hugo rolling about on the ground, laughing with his father’s wand in his hand. Victoire giggled again, looking between the little boy and me and laughing at my humiliation.
I swiped the wand from the boy’s hand, “What do you think you’re doing? You could have cursed me!”
Hugo wiped his nose on his sleeve, his seven-year old innocence profound, and I felt myself calm down.
“Give this back to your father. Go on!” I snarled. Hugo got up and scampered back into the house.
“Oh, you shouldn’t be so mean, Ted,” Victoire scolded softly, as she continued to pull potatoes out of the dirt and put them into a bucket, “He just wanted to play.”
“I can’t be around children; I wish they would all just...ugh!”
“Grow up?” Victoire asked, her eyes threatening to blaze, “You know, I am two years younger than you, Teddy. You’re a sixth year now. And I’m a far sight more grown up than you are.”
“Don’t I know it?” I said, wanting to return the conversation back to its original course. I grinned, and I saw her cheeks redden and her gaze sink to the ground.
Suddenly an idea occurred to me. The hindering feeling I had experienced was gone, and I felt a massive force overcome me. It was crazy, but I had to admit; it was easier than talking.
“You know Ted, sometimes you just need to appreciate what you have and to-“ I cut Victoire off with a kiss, only a small one, before I drew back. The second my lips touched hers, my newfound confidence had evaporated before another feeling took over, one that I had never felt before. Something glorious, before I had realised what I’d done and I pulled back so fast my back hurt. I was such an idiot! What had come over me? Crazy! Crazy! Cra-
“Ted,” Victoire breathed, sounding like someone had sucked all of the air out of her lungs, “I didn’t know you...”
I couldn’t speak- the squeezing feeling had returned and fear rooted me to the spot.
Vic stared at me for a moment; her expression slowly shifting from shocked; to confused to what looked like a mixture of flattered and sad. She then scrutinised me for a moment, and it was like I could feel our friendship leaking out of us to die on the ground.
“Vicky,” I croaked. I didn’t know where my sentence was supposed to go. I could only say her name.
She sighed, and she looked at me with apprehensive eyes. Before I knew it, she had leaned over, placed one of her hands on my cheek, and kissed me. I leaned forward, and wrapped my dirt-crusted hands around her. I had to take this opportunity no matter what kind of lapse in judgement Victoire had had. Our kiss deepened, and I knew then that our friendship hadn’t died in the ground. It was only taking root; it was now growing, blossoming into the feelings I would never shed.
It was no longer a doomed schoolboy crush. I was in love with her.
I didn’t go home the following day.
- - -
Our brief relationship was that: brief. It lasted the remainder of the summer holidays, during which there was a lot of kissing, a lot of hand holding, and a lot of us pretending that our relationship hadn’t changed, other than the aforementioned kissing and holding of the hands. I was happy. She gave me confidence. And I couldn’t wait to get back to Hogwarts.
When we got back to Hogwarts, something happened. It was like it dissolved, and the only way was to go back to how our friendship was before. But...I thought we were OK. I just thought that we were both just swept up in our studies. We didn’t really see each other, and when we did, there was nothing smoochy involved.
But then he showed up. Simon. Prang.
I mean, it was so convenient. That after years of mooning over Vic and trying to get into our friendship, he would sprout muscles and charm over the summer. That he had successfully become one of the new Beaters in his House Quidditch team.
He smashed his Beater’s bat through my friendship, through my relationship, and after Victoire fell for his overconfident, arrogant swagger, through my heart.
I’m not being dramatic here. Of course we were never going to fall in each other’s arms and live happily ever after. But I forgot how young Vicky was, and how much more important bulging biceps might be to her than what we had. And, not being dramatic, but I really would like to make up a spell that would involve several large, sharp (maybe even flaming) forks to fly towards him and plunge into his...nope. Not going there. Sometimes I’m too much of a Slytherin to handle.
A few weeks after we returned to Hogwarts- for my sixth year and for Victoire’s fourth- I had just left Charms for lunch when the first thing that assailed my sight was Prang and Victoire entering the Great Hall, his arm wrapped so tightly around her neck that he was practically giving her a headlock. I felt my eyes narrow, and I slowly removed my wand from my pocket, just in case.
They turned right for the Gryffindor table, and as I entered the Hall and turned left, I distinctly heard Victoire saying, “Simon, get off. I’ve been asking you all day. You don’t have to worry, I’m not going to run away if you let go of me for one minute!”
I turned just in time to see Prang’s lips widen into the most conceited smirk I have ever seen, and his arms wrapped around my girl’s waist, “I just wanted to show everyone that you’re my girl, baby.”
I winced, knowing what kind of response it would warrant.
Victoire scoffed, “And please, do not call me baby. You’re barely out of your toddlerhood.”
I was at her side before that prick could say another word. Vic looked at me, and the only thing I saw on her face was relief. Teddy was here. It gave me a reinforcement I’d never felt before. I grinned back.
And when Prang appraised me, his hand automatically tightened around the wand in his pocket. I felt taller, bigger, and more important.
“I’ll stop you there, Prang.”
“What do you want, Lupin?”
“I don’t think Victoire wants to be around you anymore.”
Prang looked me up and down, like I’d spoken Gobbledegook, “Um, I think you need to-“
“I really wouldn’t.”
My wand was pressing into his chest before he opened his mouth, before he’d even taken his out. I heard Victoire’s intake of breath, but I didn’t plan on hurting Prang. I saw the image of several sharp knives or something flying towards him, but I controlled myself. I felt a determination come over me that I’d never felt before. Because I wasn’t a stupid heartsick boy pining over the girl that would never show him the time of day. Because she had. We had something. It had been a blip. He was a blip.
Victoire was mine.
And that would never change.
- - -
Hours later, after it had all died down and Prang had stopped telling everyone that I’d burned a hole through his robes with my wand (because that was the least I could have done to him), I was waiting in the Astronomy Tower for Vic. It was where we hung out on nights that neither of us could sleep or when we needed to talk. Well, I couldn’t sleep, but there was nothing I needed to say.
But there were things that Victoire needed to hear.
The night was cool and clear. I was lying back on the floor looking up at it when I heard approaching footsteps up the stone stairs. I had no doubts that it was her. A few seconds later, I felt her slip onto the space beside me, folding her hands together as we stared up at the stars.
We laid there for ages, her thinking of what to say, me not needing to. When she spoke, I was ready.
“Teddy, thank you for what you did earlier. It was very noble of you.”
I didn’t say anything.
“But you didn’t have to. I could have taken care of myself.”
I looked sideways at her and said bluntly, “I did it because I want to take care of you.”
I sat up, sighing and picking up my bag,
“I’ll say it once, Vic. That prat was wrong for you. I don’t know what happened to us over the summer, but I do know one thing. I know how I feel.”
I leaned over and kissed her, like I did that day in the garden. I stood. Victoire stared at me like I’d sucked the breath out of her again. It thrilled me, and for one second I felt an overwhelming urge to laugh.
As I strode towards the steps, I passed a mirror that was fastened on the wall.
My eyes were bright pink. I think it suits me.
I think I’ll keep them.