One sickening rip, and it was all over.
"God Ted, I'm," she stopped and stared at the hurt etched on his face. "I'm sorry. Really, really, sorry".
"Sorry," he said in a flat, sarcastic, voice. Really, it was only a picture, but Teddy never acted like this, so she tried again.
"I'll make it up to you. Promise."
"You don't get it, do you? That was the only picture of them-" His voice broke and he paused for a moment. "Sometimes I think you're glad they're dead. Victoire Weasley, taking little orphan Teddy under her wing. Makes you look good, doesn't it?" She was gone before he could say sorry, gone before he remembered that under her hard exterior, words pierced Victoire like knives.
{-} {-} {-}
Victoire didn't cry. Not for anyone, not even for Teddy. Especially not for Teddy. She watched his blue head move through the crowd, pausing to talk, and once to grin flirtatiously at Kelli. Why did this hurt so much, if she didn't even care about Teddy Lupin anymore? Fine, she wasn't over Teddy and she was crying. She wasn't like her mother, not as pretty or as tough. The only one who had ever told her that she was beautiful was Teddy. Everyone else took it for granted that she would have the same silvery blond hair as her mother, the same enchanting, crystal clear, blue eyes. Victoire abandoned her attempt to ignore him. She turned, tear tracks glistening on her cheeks, as she watched Teddy walk out of the common room. Out of her life.
A/N: Just a quick little manners lesson:) I gave you this story, so you should say thank you, right? I guess you could PM me, but honestly, it would mean a lot more to me if you took a second to write what you thought in that little box down there, even if you absolutely hated it (which I sincerely hope you didn't:) Written for If You Dare challenge prompt 505. Tears
luv,
lame lame and lamer