He had been trying to persuade her to marry him for years, since she was eighteen, fresh out of school and eager to explore the world. She had laughed at him, kissed him on the cheek, and left to catch her plane without a goodbye.
He had known her forever, since she was born in fact. He was eleven years older than her, her father was his godfather, the only father he had ever known. He had watcher her grow up, played with her, helped her make the transition from home to Hogwarts. She never saw him as anything more than her friend, though. Her best friend, the one she could rely on for anything, the one she knew would be there for her no matter what.
She was the spitting image of her grandmother, tall, red hair so dark that it appeared almost mahogany in some lights, her green eyes always alive and sparkling. She lit up any room that she was in, her laugh causing anyone who could hear it to feel happier. She wasn't destined for him, with his ordinary plain brown hair, dark grey eyes that he never bothered to change; there was nothing special about him. He couldn't light up a room just be being in it, he couldn't make people fall in love with him just because of his laugh. If he could he would have been able to persuade her to marry him long ago, and he wouldn't have turned into the recluse he was now, staying at home except for work, whilst she travelled the world.
He wrote to her, every day, pages and pages of letters, but he never plucked up the courage to send them. He replied to her emails in short, terse sentences, knowing that if he wrote any more than that he would end up begging her to come back, and he couldn't do that, he couldn't appear weak in front of her. She was Lily, she was beautiful, but she wasn't his.
He wished that there was some way he could forget her, some way he could just delete her from his memory because maybe then he could move on with his life, find love that wasn't unrequited, because as romantic as it may be in novels, in real life it just hurt. It was a deep hurt, akin to somebody sticking a knife deep into his heart, a dull, sad pain that never healed. He didn't understand why she had to leave, why she had to be free and had to explore; he didn't understand why she didn't stay with him.
So maybe he wasn't going to go anywhere; maybe he was stuck in a dead end career, but he could still afford a nice house, a broom. He might not be going to explore the world, but he loved her, and to him that was enough. She had to spread her wings, she wanted to fly, she wanted excitement, danger, she didn't want to settle down with the boy she had known for her entire life, the boy she had played with in the sandpit with in kindergarten, the boy who was her best friend.
She came back one night, a hot, humid night in mid July, turning up on his doorstep with a suitcase and a smile, asking if she could stay for just a few days. He said no, tried to slam the door in her face, but then she said those two little words:
"Please, Teddy?"
He hadn't heard her say his name for three and a half years, and with that one word she knocked down all of the barriers he thought he had built up in the time that she had been gone. He opened the door wider, and took her bags from her, staggering a little from the unexpected weight. She walked through his apartment, remaining silent, her expression giving away no hints as to what she thought about it.
"Well?" he prompted, not sure he was going to like what she was going to say. He had designed it with her in mind, not that he was going to admit that to anyone.
"It's lovely," she said vaguely, not really concentrating on what it was she was saying, too tired to think straight.
Three days later he came home to find her curled up on his sofa, one arm thrown out over the side and the TV still playing to itself in the corner. He picked her up and carried her through to the guest bedroom, laying her on the bed and pulling the covers up over her. She turned over in her sleep, mumbling incoherently. She woke up slightly, gave a small smile and thanked him.
"Thanks," she mumbled, reaching out and patting him on the head, missing in her half-asleep state, and hitting air instead. He chuckled softly, and tucked her in slightly tighter. He looked down at her sleepy face, brushing her hair out of her face lightly. She smiled at him, lopsided and tired.
"Love you, Teddy," she mumbled, turning over and falling back to sleep.
He smiled, his first truly happy smile in three and a half years. He placed a kiss on her forehead, and he knew that he had made it.