A/N: For owluvr's Word Count Drabble Challenge, which she kindly took over when Shira Lansys decided to leave FFN. (We'll miss you, Shira!) The word count was 453. Not too shabby.
Dedicated to Olivia because I know I've been hitting her with too much TeddyVic angst and she needs the fluffiest fluff that ever did fluff. I don't write much fluff (have you noticed?) so I hope you like it, m'dear!
The winter wind is sharp, and there is that unmistakable scent of snow on the air. Victoire stands before you, teeth chattering, face pale, and your heart is playing your ribs like a xylophone, making music out of the uneven, mismatched beats her smile causes.
God, you love her. You want to tell her, want to say it but you're so scared.
But you're Teddy Lupin and you're made of things sharper than the wind, so you pull your cloak tighter around yourself and look her right in the eye. You can do this, Lupin. You can do this.
"I know you," you swear. "I know you better than anyone else."
She raises an eyebrow, scepticism etched into the creases of her forehead. "Prove it."
"I know that you write poetry," you say quietly, your eyes locked on hers. You have to remind yourself how to breathe. "You write it everywhere - parchment, the wall behind your bed, your palms. I've seen you."
"Teddy -"
"I'm not done," you say, because now that it's coming, it's not going to stop until it's out, and she needs to hear this, every single word. "I know that you hate flying. Don't look at me like that! You hate playing Quidditch. You always feel queasy afterwards but you don't want your dad to know so you do it anyway."
With each word, your confidence is growing. You are taking slow steps forward. Victoire is looking at you with those shining eyes, listening. You decide you could speak forever to her, for her. "I know that you loved Charms before they got that...'sexy' new professor in."
She chuckles, and you are so close to her that you can feel her warm breath tickle your chin.
"I know that you are - forgive me - absolutely awful at cooking, and somehow manage to burn toast every time," he says. "Ow!"
Victoire's still smiling even as she rubs her knuckles soothingly. "Go on," she says with a smirk, and, dear Merlin, she's perfect, isn't she?
"'I know that you're careful, and kind, and beautiful, and I know," you whisper, wrapping your arms around her and drawing her close, your lips almost against hers, "that I love you."
"Took you long enough," she laughs, and then she is the taste on your tongue, the blood pounding in your veins, the beat in your chest, and the snow is falling around you and everything is perfect.
"Oi!"
You draw away from Victoire with a growl of annoyance, turning to find James and Freddie with their hands behind their backs and snow in their hair.
"That's our cousin you're snogging there, Lupin," James says, grinning.
Freddie winks. "Yeah. If I were you...I'd run."
