Although someone banged on the door, he didn’t reply until he recognised Harry’s hesitant voice. “Teddy, it’s time for lunch.”
Swearing under his breath, Teddy plastered a smile on his face, changed his hair to a bright festive red, and trundled down the stairs.
“You okay?” Harry asked.
“Fine,” Teddy lied.
“I’m sure if you just talk to her ...”
Teddy raised his eyebrows. There was no doubt that Harry was a great godfather. It had always been wonderful to have this connection to the man who had ‘saved the wizarding world’. Since he’d been a boy, knowing Harry was always there for him had made growing up without a dad bearable. Moreover, it was incredibly cool when, at the age of fourteen, Teddy had been able to cast a Patronus long before anyone else in his year (and the two years above). It was an honour to be his godson, and a privilege to be included in all the Potter family events.
However, amazing as he was, Harry was utter crap at talking about girls. He would try to give advice, but never quite got past the initial enquiry before he decided this was awkward and then suggest that Teddy should speak to Ginny. Teddy had stopped asking after that. Ginny was friendly enough, but he really did not want his personal life becoming the subject of the Weasley dinner table “ especially when this particular problem concerned one of their own.
“I’m fine,” Teddy repeated.
“We’re still waiting for Bill’s mob,” Ginny called from the hallway. “Mum’s having a fit over burnt parsnips, so we’re having another drink first.”
Teddy sighed with relief “ another few moments respite before he’d have to face her.
It had been two weeks since they’d argued. In the first week, Victoire had tried to apologise, but he’d refused to see her. Only when Andromeda had threatened to box his ears had he relented, but by then Victoire did not want to speak to him.
He still wanted to apologise, but he wasn’t quite sure what for. Victoire, in his opinion, had behaved unreasonably. The girl at the Ministry party had not been ‘after him’ at all. She’d merely wanted to talk to him because she was interested in the Metamorphmagus phenomenon. It was unfortunate that she’d been wearing low cut robes, but Victoire shouldn’t have arrived so late. Was he really supposed to stay mute until she’d bothered to turn up? He gnawed his lip; it hadn’t just been a chat, though, for Victoire had caught him just after he’d engaged in a very energetic jive with the young witch that had left them both breathless and laughing. Of course, he’d tried to explain that it was just a dance, and they’d been standing outside in an attempt to cool off, but Victoire had jumped to the wrong conclusion “ just as she always did.
A whoosh from the fireplace announced the arrival of Bill. Teddy assumed a blank expression, but gripped his goblet tightly as he waited for the five Weasleys to appear.
There were six whooshes.
Six people arrived in the hearth.
And Teddy glowered as he realised just who was helping to pat the dust off Victoire’s robes.
Chester McLaggan was a bigheaded prat of a Gryffindor who thought he was Merlin’s gift to witches. And from the way Victoire was giggling girlishly at him “ she obviously agreed. He’d been in her year at school, and Teddy had never quite been able to rid himself of the suspicion that when he’d left school and entered the Auror training programme, Victoire had taken up with McLaggan. The months when he’d been abroad and she’d been studying for her N.E.W.T.s had been difficult and the relationship had floundered under the pressure. He’d admitted that he’d briefly found someone else (a really irritating Italian witch who’d insisted on feeding him pasta every night), and she’d confessed that she hadn’t exactly pined for him but would say no more.
Knowing how much he loathed McLaggan, he thought he knew why she’d been so reticent.
“Are you all right?”
Teddy glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Angelina. Unlike the other Weasley witches, Angelina rarely offered advice so, when she did, he knew it was heartfelt and would be useful.
“I’m-” He stopped. He’d wanted to say ‘fine’, but the look on her face stopped him. “I will be fine,” he amended.
“I remember his uncle from school,” Angelina whispered, “Arrogant prick who never forgave Oliver for being such a good Keeper and later Ron for being ...” She grinned conspiratorially, “... less of a prat than he was. Chester seems of the same mould.”
“Victoire doesn’t seem to think he’s a prat,” Teddy said gloomily.
“If he’s anything like Cormac, Victoire will be hexing his lips shut before the afternoon is over.”
Laughter, Teddy thought as he stabbed his burnt parsnip viciously with a fork, should be banned. It should especially be banned if you were the owner of the most obnoxious braying laugh in England, or if your rather musical laugh tinkled throughout the Christmas dinner at the most pathetic jokes in the entire wizarding world. He didn’t know what was so funny about McLaggan, but apparently Victoire thought him hilarious. No one else, Teddy was relieved to see, thought Chester remotely funny (apart from Fleur who had never quite ‘got’ the ‘Eengleesh sense of ‘umour’ so laughed politely, and Percy who laughed uproariously at anything just in case it was a joke.) But despite Hermione’s attempts to change the subject by talking to the children about school, and Ron’s vociferous ‘Shut up’, McLaggan would not stop talking.
After the fifth joke in a row about Kneazles, he proceeded to tell a long involved story about a Manticore going into a bar. It was old. Teddy was pretty sure his grandmother had heard it when she was a child, yet Victoire found it bloody hilarious.
“Ha ha ha,” trilled Victoire. “Oh, Chester, it’s so wonderful to have a boyfriend with a sense of humour. You’re so witty. None of the really obvious humour that I’ve had to put up with.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Teddy’s voice cut a swath across the table, silencing everyone.
“Just that your idea of humour is changing your nose so it looks like a pig’s,” she replied waspishly. “And only the really asinine think that brightly coloured hair is remotely funny.”
Smiling nastily, Teddy immediately changed his nose into a version of hers with a tiny pig-like tilt, and his hair to a ghastly caricatured version of Veela-blonde, hanging like rats’ tails to the floor. “Just trying to make you feel less insecure about your looks, sweetheart,” he declared.
Half the table gasped and half waited for Victoire’s response, but Teddy didn’t care. He stood up, and raised his glass. “Molly, I toast you for a fantastic Christmas dinner. Shame about the parsnips, but what can you expect when your granddaughter is so vain she keeps everyone waiting whilst she perms her eyebrows.”
Then, giving himself curly platinum-blonde eyebrows, and noting with pleasure that whilst Victoire was looking furious, George and Ron were roaring with laughter, he downed his drink, took a bow and walked out of the room.
“Come back!” shrieked Victoire, her blue eyes flashing with fury.
“Make me!” he yelled back, “and see if you can do it without hexes or Veela-Charm.”
When she said nothing, he walked out of the house, only stopping when he reached the henhouse. Scooping off some snow, he moulded it into a ball and threw it hard at a nearby gnome. He hurled another, then another, until at last all the snow from the henhouse roof was gone. Perhaps he should go back. Apologise to Molly for the crack about the parsnips (which had been fine, if a little caramelised) and then return to spend the rest of the day in his flat. Moodily, he kicked some snow over a fat gnome trundling warily towards him. It landed on its back and struggled to get up from the icy grass. Picking it up, he started to spin it around in the air, meaning to throw it over the fence and into the next field.
A large wad of snow hit him on the side of his face.
“Don’t pick on the gnomes,” she said as she lobbed another - softer - snowball at him. “It’s not their fault that you have a vain, jealous, pig-nosed girlfriend.”
“I still have a girlfriend, then,” he muttered, not yet looking at her. “I thought she’d found someone else.”
She scuffed the snow with her feet. “Chester’s a prat. I only brought him here to wind you up.”
“I’m the prat. I shouldn’t have danced with that girl,” he admitted. “I was just flattered she was interested, and annoyed because you were late. OUCH!” He dropped the gnome hurriedly after it bit him on the thumb. “Merlin, that one had sharp teeth.”
“Let me see,” she ordered, and he held out his hand to her. As a trainee Healer, Victoire was adept at healing minor wounds. It was only hearts she had trouble mending.
She lifted her wand, and slowly traced the bite whilst he watched his skin meld together. “I was at St. Mungo’s,” she murmured. “That’s why I was late. I was tired because I’d worked a long shift and when I saw you with Beatrice ...” Victoire shuddered in distaste.
“Who’s Beatrice?”
“The witch chatting you up at the party,” Victoire replied, sounding surprised. “I thought you knew her. She was my year at school “ bloody bitch “ I always hated her.”
Teddy shrugged. “I didn’t catch her name. She just seemed interested, that’s all. I suppose I was flattered.”
As Victoire stroked his thumb and then the palm of his hand with slow, steady strokes, his mind spun with thoughts of exactly what he’d like to do with her right at this moment, despite the snow. “Of course she was interested. You’re Teddy Lupin. All the witches at Hogwarts liked you.”
“Even though I’m asinine and obvious?” he mumbled.
“Because you’re cool and unpredictable,” she amended.
Teddy lifted his hand to her face and caressed her cheek. “You don’t have a pig nose “ you’re ridiculously beautiful.”
She giggled. “I’m still vain and jealous, though?”
He smiled down at her, then swooping her off her feet, he spun them both around, twirling on the snow until, giddy with excess, they fell to the ground. He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. “You’re not vain,” he whispered as he started to kiss her. “But if any witch had that right, it would be you, Victoire.”
As he ran his hands under her cloak and around her waist, she shivered but he didn’t think it was from the cold. “Do you realise where we are?” he murmured in her ear, nipping the lobe gently with his teeth.
“Our first kiss,” she replied, peeping at him from under her lashes.
“Uh ... I was thinking of something else,” he muttered.
“So was I,” she whispered, “but that was in the summer, and there wasn’t a houseful of Weasleys ready to march out of the house and hex you for seducing their inn-o-cent Victoire.
He sighed regretfully. “I’ve missed you. Two weeks is too bloody long.”
She pulled away slightly and thought. “Why don’t we skip Christmas pudding and exchange ... uh ... gifts at your flat?”
“Won’t McLaggan mind?” Teddy asked, wondering why on earth he was bothered by the bigheaded arsehole.
“He’s found his ideal audience in Uncle Percy,” she replied, with a grin. “I don’t think he even knows I’ve gone.”
Chuckling, he pulled them both to standing. “More fool him. Let’s get back to mine.”
“You’re very eager, Lupin,” she giggled.
He smirked at her. “Just can’t wait to see you in your Christmas stockings, Miss Weasley.”