A/N: I know Teddy/Lily isn't the most popular pairing, but I stumbled across it on accident a few months ago, and I'm obsessed. I know some people find age difference alarming, but I think when done with tact, this pairing is quite extraordinary. I hope you enjoy the result, as I already have two more chapters prepared, pending how well this is recieved!
Please enjoy!
-Wagic
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Teddy's first thought upon walking into Fox Corner in Godric's Hollow was, Ginny's looking quite fit for a witch pushing 50. Discretely, he admired the round backside of the redhead bending over the range, sighing audibly and checking on a delicious-smelling roast, (his favorite).
Because of this, he was thoroughly and disturbingly nonplussed when his Godmother entered the room and wrapped her soft arms around him in a warm embrace.
He found himself growing more disturbed when she shrieked, "Tedward! My God, it's you! You're actually here!"
His befuddlement had reached alarming levels by the time the ersatz Ginny in the oven had straightened up and turned to face him, delicate features alight with joy, saying, "Teddy! I didn't hear you wander in!"
Realization came crashing down around him as Lily Luna- baby, wholesome, innocent Lily Luna- rushed forward to throw her arms around his neck. He caught her mechanically, trying to ignore the way the unfamiliar soft curves and bumps felt against his own hard body. In the space of several dazed seconds, Teddy Lupin had went from happy to sorely regretting his return to England, (or kicking himself for leaving at all. He couldn't decide which.)
It was his fault, really, he mused when they had all gathered around the dining table an hour or so later- the Potter's effusive in their welcome, he trying to not glance too long or too often at the glorious, strange creature sitting directly next him. He was the one who had skived off to New York for half a decade.
Five years.
Teddy had scarpered off to America on the heels of his gran's death, before the lingering feelings over his split with Vic had settled or anyone could talk him out of it. Time healed all wounds, of course, and Harry & Co had been happy when he announced his return, ready to accept him back into the fold. (And how did he repay this magnanimity? By trying and failing to not notice the rise and fall of Lily's chest.)
He felt like a pervert, sitting there and side-eyeing and gentle curve of her neck. She was eighteen, fresh out of Hogwarts and the picture of wholesome innocence. Top of her class, they said, you should have been there, special awards from the school and everything. She'd been accepted to the Auror Training Program.
"We'll be working together, Ted," she said with a wink.
"Looking forward to it," he whimpered, desperately wishing he could be anywhere but beside her, her silken red hair falling like a curtain between them.
Teddy didn't come around again for a bit, intent as he was on repatriating himself thoroughly. (At least that was what he told himself.) There was his flat to sort out, and so many boxes to unpack. He didn't realize how much he had accumulated in his life abroad, all the knick knacks and souvenirs from the meat of his twenties that littered the bookshelves and miscellaneous nooks and crannies. He'd left England with naught but a small pack and the clothes on his back, on a whim, so the detritus he'd managed to acquire was a bit alarming. He drew it out and took his time, searching for all the excuses he didn't need to justify being alone. Everyone understood, of course. Of Course they understood. You didn't leave the country for simple reasons, and coming back wasn't simple, either. Everyone gave him his space, Potters and Weasleys, but he couldn't ignore the invitation to a good old fashioned Weasley dinner, one balmy Sunday.
Summer was high in the sky, and the air hung thick over the Burrow. Various Weasleys could be heard from the edge of the garden, filtering out through open windows and swinging doors. The cacophony was almost comforting. It reminded him of evening Quidditch bouts and stolen kisses behind the shed. He smiled at the memory, the pain from his parting with Victoire long faded. He chose to focus on the good: what they shared had been real and special, but it belonged behind them. She was married now, he knew, with a little one.
As if his thoughts had summoned her, she sidled out the door, arms wide and a smile playing on her lips. Time had been kind to her, he decided. Her face was still pretty and flush, and her belly round with the promise of more to come. She was radiant as always.
"Teddy!" She squealed, meeting him on the path. "You look well. Everyone is so happy to have you back! Grandma has made all of your favorites, you know, come in! Oh, you just have to meet Etienne, he's been dying to meet you and…"
He stopped listening. Lily was in the window waving, with her secret, inviting smile.
"Excuse, Vic," he said smiling.
He tried to tell himself that he wasn't excited to see Lily, and after a fortnight of denial, he almost believed it. But when he saw the light blue sweater clinging to her form and pulling at the hazel in her eyes, he lost his resolve.
She was even more exquisite than anything his paltry imagination could summon.
Dinner was a vibrant affair, rife with staccato laughter and palpable joy. (That was something he'd missed, he allowed.) Even if they weren't his family proper, it was nice to be included in these moments. Lily made a game of catching his eye and pulling faces, a silent commentary between them on whatever conversation happened to be the loudest. He found himself enjoying the whole thing immensely.
Then the sun fell, and the night settled in. Roxie and Molly left to meet a friend for drinks; James was in the middle of Quidditch conditioning, and so had to turn in early; Vic and Etienne had to put little Loren to bed, etc… and soon their number had severely dwindled, and Ted joined Lily on the steps. She gave him another small smile and stretched, rising her slender arms above her head and allowing a small sliver of skin to appear between her sweater and cut-offs.
"Think I'll go home and have a cuppa," she thought out loud.
"That sounds nice," he agreed, "Think Ginny made enough for both of us?"
"What? You're funny. I'm not going to my parents."
"Your- oh."
"You thought I still lived at home?" She smirked. "Silly Teddy. I got my flat last month, right after graduation. It's in London. But you are welcome to join me, if you'd like."
"Oh, I don't know... "
"Come on," she pouted, "What could it hurt?"
Every fiber of his being and inch of his skin screamed in warning. His hair stood on end and a bitter feeling set in his gut. So of course he said
"Okay."
She grabbed his hand and he felt the squeezing from all sides.
They were in a cosy flat, painted an imposing shade of plum. The plush, white sofa in front of the hearth was riddled with throw pillows of royal blue, and a dim light glowed in a well-appointed kitchenette. Lily gestured to the living space and busied herself in the cupboards, pulling down never-used highballs and reaching for an unopened bottle of Ogden's finest.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Firewhiskey, Lils? Are you sure we could handle that? I thought you said tea."
"Please, Ted," she scoffed, "I changed my mind. And I am of age. Lighten up."
"Okay," he tried tentatively.
He could drink firewhiskey with Lils. Everything would be fine. This was fine.
She poured the coppery-warm liquid into the matching glasses and handed him one. They clinked them together out of habit, and Teddy found himself wondering when and where Lily would have acquired such an affectation. He raised an eyebrow in question. She shrugged as if to say, this ain't my first rodeo, (that delightful American colloquialism that sprang to his mind.)
She filled their glasses again, and again. Talking about nothing, and everything, endeavoring to catch each other up on the last five years.
The liquor blurred their senses and he felt himself flat was so Lily, and Lily was so Lily. Despite her changed form, she was still, essentially, the same whip-smart little witch dancing circles around anyone foolish enough to stand still for too long.
"Why the Aurorhood? What made you want to take up the mantle?" he asked lazily.
"Why for you?" She asked pointedly. "That's just who we are, isn't it? You have to, or you don't. Me, you, dad. We have to. Al, Jamie, Uncle Ron- they don't have to, do they? They can, sure. But we have to."
"Yeah," he said simply, staring pensively into his glass.
"Is it weird, being back?"
"Yes," he answered honestly, somehow willing to share, for once. (With her, of all people.) "I don't think I really thought that I could just pick up where I left off, that I could come home and everything would be the same, but I guess I sort of hoped it would be as easy as all that."
"Is it… Vic?" She asked, her voice pinched.
Teddy snorted.
"No. It's just… I missed so much, you know? Why, look at you. You're a woman, and I didn't even realize. I should have been there for that."
Lily grimaced and let out an embarrassed laugh.
"I'm glad you weren't. Me, all elbows and right angles!"
"I'm sure you were lovely."
The secret smile was back, and he felt himself edging the precipice. She stretched again, and he could almost swear she was doing it on purpose, that sliver of creamymilkysmooth peeking in and out of view.
"Do you think I'm lovely?" She asked, voice low.
His eyes flashed a dangerous black. He had leaned to school his hair quite quite early; his faltering shades were an endless source of embarrassment. Only in his rawest moments did they morph unbidden. His eyes, however, remained immutably volatile. (Didn't they say that eyes were windows to the soul?)
"Of course you are," he said quietly. "Don't you know?"
"But am I lovely?"
Lily drew closer. She was only a breath away.
"Lily. Lily," Teddy moaned. "What are you doing?"
"Why, I'm a woman. And you, dear Ted, are a very fit, indomitably attractive man. What do you think I'm doing?"
"We can't."
"Why not?" She breathed. "Am I not lovely enough for you?"
"Merlin, no. No. I mean, yes! You are. But we can't."
"But I want to. So whyever not?"
He remained silent, fighting his baser instincts- the ones the screamed BITE and TAKE and fuck.
"Why not, Ted?" She asked, lips at his ear.
Why not,Ted? He asked himself.
"Lily." He gasped, finally turning into her kiss.
"Teddy."
Teddy awoke the next morning, bleary and tangled up in soft, pale limbs. She had been burningfiremagic incredible, (she was no vestal maiden), but in the light of day he ached with guilt. She was innocent, virginal Lily- aways- and he'd defiled her. He grew hard again, thinking of the vile, filthy things that had fallen from her lips in the throes of their coupling. Her dirty words had been prayers in the darkness, pleas for their mutual salvation.
He'd never been a religious man, but he wished he had someone to beg for forgiveness. They had crossed a thick, dark line. It was a sin of which he would never remit himself.
Lily stirred, her sleepy, open face the picture of absolution. She smiled slyly and ran a hand up his side, glossing over the scars and rippling muscles that contracted with her gentle touch.
"Morning,"
She glowed in the dawn, stretching and writhing under the early light.
She was young, so young, Teddy reminded himself- eighteen to his twenty-eight. Yet, he found himself completely enraptured by her siren's song. Were women always so soft and inviting? Had he only not been paying attention? His relations in recent years had been reserved for infrequent one-nighters with largely unremarkable women. Was it just... Lily.
The only thing he knew for certain was that it couldn't happen again.
"Cuppa?" She asked, lips curling. Eyes closed.
"Well, you know what happened last time you offered," he mused groggily.
"I wouldn't be opposed," she teased.
"Lily," he said earnestly, sitting up in a sudden panic.
"Ted," she said, grinning.
"That… this. It can't happen again. I'm sorry. It… it can't. We… can't."
"Okay," she said, still smiling.
"O- Okay?"
She smiled her cheshire smile.
"Whatever you say, Ted."