A/N: I thought that i'd branch out from the old Rose/Scorpius romance fic, so I've written something a bit more contemplative, I think. Teddy's a character that I love, purely because of who his parents are, and I've managed to work just about every character from the 3rd gen. in, again, i think. So, let me know what you think, please, and I'm sorry if you're still waiting for an update for my other fic, I've got a bit of writer's block on the romance side of things, mainly because I'm thinking that romance is dead right now. So, anyways, I've rambled for long enough now, so please, enjoy and review for me.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are pretty much the same as the characters in my other story, so it follows that they don't belong to me. Also, there's pretty much no plot, so I can't own that either.
Another July 31st meant another Weasley gathering. Well, it was said to be a Weasley gathering, when, in fact, it was held in honour of the birthday of a Potter. Harry Potter. This was his forty-second birthday, and everybody who meant anything to him was there. This included his godson, Teddy Lupin. Teddy, now twenty–five, was stuffed, like everybody else, on his Grandma Molly's steak and kidney pie, a small mountain of fluffy mashed potatoes and a few thousand peas. So, Grandma Molly wasn't technically his grandmother, but who'd have been able to tell? His hair was still ruffled, his cheeks were still pinched and he was still told that 'you've shot up since the last time I saw you.' And yes, this was at twenty five years old.
Now that the serious business, dinner, was over, the extended family was relaxing in the 'tranquil' surroundings of the garden of the Burrow. Well, the surroundings were tranquil when it wasn't full to the brim of 3 generations of Weasley's.
Teddy, himself, was feeling rather serene. The weather had, fortunately, held up and now that it was half nine and dusk was beginning to fall, he lounged back in his chair and took in his current environment. Long gone were the days when there were screaming, flaming haired children running around like maniacs. Now, the 'littlie' was Lucy, and even she was a teenager, if only just. At thirteen years old she was the youngest, and boy, didn't everybody know it? Not that she acted in a childish manner, in fact, it was usually the opposite, but she was spoilt rotten. She brought out the overprotective uncle, even in George. "But" Teddy thought, contemplating Lucy's form, curled up like a kitten, "I know better. Lucy's strong. Maybe even stronger than Roxanne. Her strength is on the inside, in knowing herself and not letting anybody tell her different." It was her and Teddy's little secret that she could fend for herself perfectly well because who wasn't glad when they were treated like a princess? Teddy was a good keeper of secrets.
The increase in tempo of guitar notes roused Teddy from his contemplation of his youngest cousin, and drew his gaze to Dominique, who was sitting, cross legged, on the grass, strumming harshly on a battered old guitar. Teddy caught her angry lyrics floating on the summer wind, and smiled sadly at the twenty-two year old. Her copper curls were chopped brutally just above her ears, and her jeans were as ripped and shabby as her guitar. "But" Teddy considered, as Dominique raised her eyes to his, whilst continuing to play, "I know that Dominique is so much softer than everybody thinks. What were those lyrics that I heard her singing the other day?" And Teddy remembered back to his visit to Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's the previous weekend. Dominique, had of course, been in the garden, still living with her parents, even though her little brother had moved out. Teddy had never meant to eavesdrop, it had just happened that her voice had carried out to him "So I said, whoa, oh, won't you let me love you? Whoa-oh, won't you let me be the one? 'Cus, whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh, I can't hide this feeling, I say love, love has taken over me" There had been no need for Dominique to swear Teddy to secrecy about those 'soppy' lyrics, Teddy was a good keeper of secrets.
Teddy's thoughts of Dominique's talk of love lead naturally to Lily, the romantic. Lily, the dreamer. Lily, the optimist. She was sitting slightly apart from everybody else, not intentionally, it had just happened that way. In the fading light, she looked more beautiful than Teddy had ever seen her before. He thought all of his family was beautiful, but there was something ethereal about Lily. Something that made Divination her best subject, even though Aunt Hermione thought it was a class only for the gullible. "But" Teddy deliberated, "I know Lily better than that. Behind that delicate façade, there is nothing gullible about Lily Luna Potter. Lily never forms an opinion about anything, or anyone, other than based on solid fact. There is no intuition. She's just faster than everybody else" Teddy had found this out years ago, when he'd come across an old notebook of Lily's in the spare bedroom in Uncle Harry's house. The notebook clearly explained what, and why, Lily thought about every member of her family. She had been only eleven at the time, little Lucy was only nine, but there was even a judgement for her. Teddy had smiled reading his own entry, "Teddy's most likely to find this, because he's so inquisitive" he had read aloud, "But the reason why I don't mind is because he's so trustworthy, that's why I tell him secrets. Teddy's a good keeper of secrets"
Rose, Teddy noticed, was also watching Lily, but had not yet noticed that she, herself, was being watched by him. That was so like Rose's stereotype, a motherly seventeen year old, with everybody else's best intentions at heart. Nobody had a bad word to say about Rose Weasley, but Teddy knew something that nobody else did. "Rose" he reflected, "Has a ruthless streak that I've never seen in anybody else. Granted, I've never seen her that malicious in respect to anybody in the family, but when she's trying to protect Lily, or Hugo!" That led to Teddy having thoughts of James' tryout for the Holyhead Harpies, his mother's old team. Rose had sat there, in the spectator stands, and hexed the majority of the Chaser's trying out, giving James an unfair, though completely unnecessary, advantage. Though she knew that Teddy had seen, she never said a word about it, and neither had Teddy, because it would have hurt James. Besides, Teddy knew what he was doing, because Teddy was a good keeper of secrets.
Though, James, hurt? His inflated ego surely would have protected him from such a blow. Right now, he was making identical hair ruffling movements to his father and grandfather, whilst polishing an already highly shiny broom handle. Everything about him was so relaxed that he was the most envied Quidditch player in England already. James Sirius Potter was currently flying in and out of photographs and posters on about ninety-five percent of bedroom walls in Great Britain. Girls went crazy for his charming smile and guys were jealous of his considerable talent. James Sirius Potter was THE perfect specimen on a nineteen year old wizard. "But" Teddy contemplated, as James viewed his own reflection in the broom handle, "James is just as insecure as the next teenage wizard" Teddy had seen the make-up in James' room, foundation and eyeliner, because James' skin was not naturally that peachy, nor were his eyes naturally that big. Like usual, Teddy hadn't meant to pry, but he'd always just walked into James' room whenever he felt like it as a child, why would that have changed just because they were now adults? And, like usual, Teddy hadn't told, and James hadn't needed to ask him, because Teddy was a good keeper of secrets.
The Weasley's did seem to be split into the loud and the quiet; James was loud, Molly was quiet. Molly was extraordinarily quite. Though she was named for her grandmother, on the surface they had absolutely nothing in common. Molly, though older than Lucy by one year, had always seemed younger. She always seemed to be bypassed somehow, and because she never complained about it, she never stopped being forgotten. "But" Teddy smiled, watching Molly thread daisies into a bracelet, "There's one person that'll never forget our Molly. Lorcan" Lorcan Scamander, the eldest twin of Luna and Rolf Scamander was very, very fond of Molly Weasley, and she, in return, was very, very fond of him. Teddy had once walked in the pair, when Molly could only have been eleven or so. He had, in fact, walked in on her first kiss, of sorts. That is, if a peck on the cheek can be considered a first kiss. And, to the best of Teddy's knowledge, Molly and Lorcan had been seeing each other for three years, for the three entire years that Molly had been attending Hogwarts. Even Molly didn't know that Teddy knew about Lorcan, but why would she worry? Teddy was a good keeper of secrets, after all.
All this contemplation on Teddy's was thirsty work, and when he looked at down to the feet of his chair, there was Fred, taking a sneaky gulp of his Butterbeer. Teddy didn't mind, of course, Fred had a way of making these things into a long running joke. Fred was the resident joker, truly his father's son, embodying the spirit of his dead uncle in his pranks and tricks. "But" reasoned Teddy, as Fred grinned cheekily up at him, "I can see past that grin of Fred's. Fred's eyes say so much more than his mouth ever will. Fred's eyes tell a tale of melancholy" And Teddy was right. Not the fresh blue of Dominique, nor the cheerful hazel of Rose, not even the sparkling green of Albus. Fred's eyes were pools of brown, and they made Teddy think of mud. Dull, suffocating mud. And Fred was suffocated, by his name. Teddy had been the only one that Fred had told about the requisites of his name; he had to be the joker, because Uncle Fred had been. And, Teddy had just let Fred cry on his shoulder, even though they were young and he didn't entirely understand, because he had no name to live up to. Nevertheless, Teddy had never told anybody, because Teddy was a good keeper of secrets.
Fred's eyes of mud completely juxtaposed Albus' eyes of crystal. Whilst Fred's eyes were a barrier, Albus' were a window, into his soul. Albus was the one considered straightforward and uncomplicated. This was proven to Teddy by the fact that Al was sitting next to him, silent except for when spoken to, himself clearly deep in contemplation. "And" Teddy said to himself, "That's the oddity of Al. His only revelation is that he has no secret. He thinks he's one sided and shallow" That just proved to Teddy that Al was as deep as an ocean. He would be the one that would lumber himself with an unfounded accusation of that sort, because Albus was a philosopher at heart. So, Teddy couldn't tell, because not only was he a good keeper of secrets, but there technically was nothing to tell.
Louis was the one that they all thought of as deep. Louis himself had no idea why. Maybe it was the way that whenever spoken to he tilted his head to one side like he was really concentrating, or because he nodded a lot in agreement. Teddy sighed, "I know that's all a show." Louis has once confided in Teddy that he usually had not a clue what anybody was talking about and just nodded and tilted his head because he thought it made him look smarter. Teddy had laughed at that, and reassured Louis that a boy as good looking as he needn't worry about looking intelligent, he'd probably get by in life on looks alone. Teddy hadn't meant it of course, and although Louis had seemed to take the information to heart, Teddy never really knew, and he didn't tell, because he was a good keeper of secrets.
Roxanne was the one conversing with 'deep' Louis when Teddy chose to look up on that July 31st. Although Teddy made it a personal aim in life not to have a favourite cousin, if he had one, it would probably have been Roxanne, who point blank refused to have her name shortened. She said that anything like 'Roxy' was a diminutive, and she was not small. There was the Weasley gangliness about her, and although she was clumsy on the ground, in the air she was as graceful as a ballerina. Roxanne decidedly did not care that she sometimes tripped over her own feet. Rather than play it down, she was loud, and opinionated, even more so than anybody else. Roxanne was not one to be outshouted, even if she was outsmarted. And although she was loud, she was not a public speaker. It wasn't that she had stage fright, or anything cowardly like that, but her voice didn't project, it just yelled. And yelled loud. "But" Teddy recalled, "Roxanne's a poet. A poetry lover. She adores anything with imagery, or alliteration, or anything of the sort" It hadn't been one the harder secrets that Teddy had found out, Roxanne kept her poetry anthologies beneath her bed. And what, you may ask, was Teddy Lupin doing under his cousin's bed? The simple answer is that he was playing Hide and Seek. Which Roxanne, being so loud, was lousy at. And, even though anybody could have found out for themselves, if they'd bothered to lift the sheets of Roxanne's bed, Teddy had kept her secret all the same, because he was a good keeper of secrets.
Teddy hadn't thought about Hugo up until this point. This wasn't because he didn't care for Hugo, not at all. He just hadn't seen Hugo much that night, so he had been pushed to the back of his mind. As usual, Hugo had been with Uncle Harry, being regaled with stories of the War, and Dumbledore. Those stories were Hugo's favourites and always had been. Teddy still remembered reading to Hugo, who he was ten years older than, at bedtime, though Hugo had always moaned that he didn't tell it properly. Only Uncle Harry could do it properly. And Hugo still idolised Harry. "But" Teddy remembered, thinking back at least five or six years, "Hugo's the biggest softy on the planet. I wouldn't be surprised if he announced he was a pacifist." Because Teddy remembered walking in, after Hugo's bedtime story one night, and finding him huddled in a ball under the sheets on his bed. Naturally, Teddy had coaxed his problem out of him, and it was still in his head, never having crossed his lips. Teddy was a good keeper of secrets.
And Victoire's secret? Well, Victoire didn't have a secret, at least, not as far as Teddy knew. That was why he liked her, he wasn't responsible for hiding an alter ego from the world for her. Victoire happened to be sitting next to Teddy that night. Grandma Molly always seemed to lumber them together at family things, because they were so close in age. And, of course, there had been that incident at Kings Cross six years ago, where James had found him kissing Victoire. That had been a one off, unfortunately. Victoire had never really been interested in him, he didn't think, at least, not in the way he was interested in her. That had been their one kiss, in the twenty-five years of Teddy's life.
"Teddy?" That was Aunt Ginny, who had picked up on his silence during the evening. Unbeknownst to Teddy he had spent the better part of the evening just staring at his various relatives, pretty much analysing them. "Are you okay sweetheart? You seem sort of spaced out" Aunt Ginny had never really seemed all that much like an aunt, she was only seventeen years older than him, after all. But he still allowed her to drag him indoors, because everybody else was leaving for their respective homes, and apparently the air was turning chilly. Of course, that was just his aunts and grandma talking, nobody else noticed this apparent chill. He assumed that it was a integrated 'mom thermometer' or something.
And, as Ginny hauled him up into the house, Victoire smiled that pretty, wide smile of hers, the one that everybody knew and loved. And then, when she was sure that no-one else looking, least of all Teddy, she flashed that dreamy, wistful smile, the one that nobody ever saw. And that was Victoire's secret.