Just For Tonight

"Just for tonight," he'd said and she'd agreed, Apparating back to his flat. They had both been at the same party, celebrating a mutual friend's eighteenth, and had drunk rather a lot. He'd found her in the hall after his first few drinks, and decided in the alcohol haze that all the usual reasons didn't matter, he liked her too damn much.

Not that he'd ever admit that, because letting her know how he felt about her, his best friend who was practically his sister, was not a good idea. He'd still been sober enough to remember that even after they'd danced together and he'd fallen in love a little more. The what ifs were too many, and they were too close...

He didn't know what number Firewhiskey he was on or she was on when she requested a second dance and he accepted, and to be honest he'd stopped caring. They'd retained a fuzzy thought needing secrecy in this, which was how come they'd Apparated away together as the party wound down, giggling hopelessly. If Aunt Molly found out... he wasn't sure what he was most afraid of, that she'd disapprove of his designs on her granddaughter, or approve and start trying to marry them off before they were even dating properly, if he ever asked...

But for tonight... He'd got his own flat with his (limited) inheritance money, and she wasn't expected back home until tomorrow morning. He'd never seen her looking more beautiful and carefree, and he didn't think a chance like this would come round again. She was here, both swaying slightly, and they were both gloriously drunk and miraculously un-splinched...

He let himself in, and her with him. She knew this place reasonably well now having helped him move in, and immediately made herself comfortable on the sofa.

One night, No excuses, no compromises, no family. No strings, no memories in the morning, no regrets: just a drunken incident of chemistry and its effects.

He sat next to her, put an arm round her shoulders. "Tor?" he said, nuzzling her neck and pushing her blonde hair aside as she collapsed back on the sofa.

It was amazing how distracting that was, Victoire thought woozily. She revelled in the feeling for a minute, before realising that had been a question and he expected a reply. "Yes, Teddy?"

Her head tilted slightly sideways to expose more of her neck to his lips. Her eyes were unfocussed, her brain as unresponsive as his. A feeling of rightness, his lips pressed to her pulse and a desperate urge for now—

"Just for tonight?" he pleaded, knowing that her answer didn't matter. Even if she said no, it would still happen, there was no way to hold back. And she was vixenish and flirtatious and there was no way she was saying no, not when she wanted this as much as he did.

"Tonight sounds good," she agreed, lifting a hand to the curl at the nape of his neck, admiring the brilliant turquoise that was secretly her favourite colour, and his signature style. He watched her looking, and changed his hair through a whole rainbow of colours, back to blue again.

Before he could protest, she pressed her lips to his almost casually, before he pushed back with a little more passion and her mouth opened. He wasn't sure if the Firewhiskey taste was him or her but it fitted in this moment and he liked that it was there.



With her kiss assailing his every sense, both breathing heavily, they somehow managed to make it unsteadily through into Teddy's bedroom, clinging to walls and doorframes as they did so. She collapsed backwards onto the bed giggling before his lips found hers again desperately and it became a lot heavier and she didn't have the breath to spare on giggles. All he could do was repeat her name...

Victoire opened her eyes to a roomful of dazzling sunlight, somewhere she was sure she should recognise. Strands of blonde hair were criss-crossing over her face and she was completely naked, she realised with a blush. She was ready with her wand as the headache waves crashed on her, casting the charm that Uncle Ron had taught her (right before Aunt Hermione had chased him out of the house yelling about responsibility).

That sorted, she noticed an arm was firmly around her waist preventing her from rolling over and looking at its owner. She tried to look over her shoulder, but all she could see were stars and her own hair.

And now, memory returning in flashes. She'd been trying to get over Teddy, who would never feel the same way about her, through the use of copious amounts of alcohol. She'd been drunk enough to ask someone to dance, but instead of making out they'd come back here... and she'd slept with him. Now that was a lot too much alcohol.

But who was he? She didn't think sleeping with random strangers was a particularly good method of getting over someone, especially when that was your first time and now you can't even remember who. She just hoped they'd been as drunk as her, she thought, letting out a small noise between a choke and a sob. Maybe she'd be able to get out of this latest incident with some dignity. It was oddly comforting being in his arms...

And then he moved, and Victoire caught sight of the burn scar on the back of his hand received from a Blast-Ended Skrewt when he'd been in Third year, and then she knew. She'd just had drunken sex with her best friend, Teddy Lupin, who she was madly in love with, Passionate sex, but still- it was Teddy. What was he going to think of her? The words "just for tonight" came rushing back into her head and she let out another choked sob, praying that he'd been drunk as he said it.

She felt him stirring behind her, his arm tightening round her as he gained consciousness. A pause, then "God, my head," in his I-Hate-Mornings voice, burying his face in her hair. She performed the charm again. "Thanks," he said, pulling back a little to get a clearer look.

Well, she was blonde and had a nice figure- had he tried to find yet another Victoire replacement in his drunkenness?

Then she rolled over, red-eyed, and as their eyes met he found it was infinitely worse. Victoire Weasley's cornflower blue eyes were staring back at him, and she was going to want nothing more to do with him now.

"Victoire, I—" He paused, lost for words. What could he say?

I'm sorry- he wasn't, especially if she wasn't.

We can forget it

- no, we can't.

I love you and have done for the past year- what was even the point?



It was a one-off

- lies. And he couldn't tell the truth, because he wasn't sure that would make things any better. They were stuck in an impasse, both convinced of the other's friendship, neither risking anything.

God, Victoire, what kind of Gryffindor are you? she asked herself. You've wound up in his bed and you still can't tell him how you feel! She shook her head sadly, remembering how he'd removed his hand the second he'd realised it was her. Normally in a sticky situation she's turn to Teddy and he'd hug her and everything would work out. Not this time.

They got up in silence, Teddy lending Victoire a T-shirt (Puddlemere United Rock!). He motioned an offer to turn his back while she dressed, which made her laugh bitterly- nothing he hadn't seen last night, after all. She climbed out of bed, found her underwear from the floor, then pulled the T-shirt over her head.

Breakfast was also silent for the most part. Apart from "Toast?" and "Can you pass the butter?" they stared into their mugs of coffee, as if they would somehow hold all the answers. Teddy wondered if Victoire might like a shower, but was too shy to ask. Up until last night there'd only been one thing he couldn't say to Victoire...

As he worked some magic on the plates, a Household Charm from Grandma she'd assumed, she decided she couldn't leave things like this. "I know it'll be hard, but can we try to be friends like before? I don't want to lose you, Teddy," she confessed quietly, although in the stillness of the flat it sounded loud.

"You'll never lose me," he said, reaching over and hugging her impulsively before they remembered and both blushed scarlet, Teddy's hair reddening too. "Okay, so maybe it'll take a little work..."

She smiled sweetly at him. "I have to go. I promised Mum I'd be home for lunch," she said, looking at the clock over the oven. It was already midday.

She dressed quickly, folding his T-shirt and placing it neatly on his bed. She gather her wand and he handbag and headed to the front door. She couldn't believe she was just going to walk away.

He couldn't believe he was going to let her walk away. It had happened, so there was maybe a chance now... He couldn't believe that she was totally indifferent, not when she kept performing her nervous routine- smooth the hair, shuffle to the other foot, and repeat.

"Tor?" She turned quickly, as if she'd been hoping he'd speak. He swallowed. Now all he had to do was get the words out. "I don't want just one night."

All of a sudden, her face had come alive and she was laughing, the spark back in her eyes. She ran to him and threw her arms round him. He grinned back down at her, and put his arms round her squashing her tight to him.

"You do realise I'm never letting go?" he asked, as she buried her face in his shoulder, rocking her gently from side to side.

"That's okay, because I love you," she replied, her voice muffled, her lips moving against his skin as she spoke.

"I love you too," he told her seriously, kissing her. "Have done for the past year."



"And you call yourself a Gryffindor?" Victoire questioned, sounding accusatory until she laughed happily. "I've loved you since my fifteenth- I think I win in the coward stakes."

He kissed her again more firmly, just because he could. "You do realise we've done this entire relationship the wrong way round?"

Her fingers traced butterfly trails down his chest. "Well, it worked. Although I'm quite interested as to what you're like sober," she teased. "I don't really remember huge amounts of last night."

His hand slid upwards, pulling her top with it. "That can be arranged. But Aunt Molly must never know," he deadpanned.

"Well, obviously not, I'm not ready to marry you yet," she informed him, playing with the tie on his shorts.

"What about your mother's lunch?" he asked half-heartedly, mouth moving down her neck gently.

"Screw lunch," she replied, before deciding there were better uses for her mouth than talking and pushing him in the general direction of the sofa.

A/N: so what happens when I sit down to revise for my exams (which start tomorrow, by the way)? Well, I certainly don't learn about Stalin like I'm supposed to...

Anyway, if you have time to review (or are avoiding revising like me) that would be great!