DISCLAIMER: Don't own it.

French Plaits.

Blurb …

Teddy loves Victoire French plaits. Victoire wants to know why Teddy keeps gawking at her. Harry and Ron are at a loss on what to do, Hermione's the voice of reason, and Rose is the only one making sense. Confused? :TeddyVictoire SU postDH:


CHPATER FOUR: Maybe it's the French plaits?

He, Teddy Remus Lupin, was from this day forth, in love-that's right, in love-with best friend of 12 years, Victoire Annabel Weasley.

How did he know this?

He had no bloody clue.

All he knew was that it hit him quite suddenly one day in September. They had only been back at Hogwarts for 3 weeks, himself in 7th year, and Victoire in 5th.

"I'm so glad you could borrow this thing off James." Victoire whispered, as they edged under James' invisibility cloak. It was the dead of the night, and they were planning on sneaking down to the kitchens. Victoire had been complaining all night that the house-elf's must have a grudge against Gryffindor, ever since her Aunt Hermione had tried to get them to all on strike a few years ago.

Either way, the theory was that they didn't send up as much nourishing food as they usually did. But as they had no grudge against them, Teddy agreed to go down with her.

At three in the morning.

"Oh the things I do for you." Teddy whispered back, as they slipped round a corner and started down the marble staircase.

"But you love me anyway." Victoire whispered back, her freckles standing out on her pale face. He could see them quite clearly, seeing as if he turned to look at her, their faces were inches from each other's.

It was a rather awkward prospect, as ever since the Victoire-In-The-Pond incident, Teddy had realized that he had …

Oh sweet Merlin, he was even embarrassed to think of his potential romantic feelings inside his own head.

Point was, was that he fancied her like mad.

"Come on, this way." He tugged on her arm, and they headed towards the corridor that would lead to the painting of fruit.

They managed to get halfway across the entrance hall, when Professor Carter (the new Potions master, after Slughorn retired) back walking out with professor Longbottom.

"Crap!" Victoire breathed and they hurried back into the wall next to the hour glasses that recorded the house points.

Ever since a treacle tart exploding incident in their first week, as funny as it was, had sent the teachers into a frenzy of tension. Anyone caught smelling remotely like treacle tart was hauled in for questioning.

It didn't help that he happened to like treacle tart. And it was priceless when a whole lot of it had exploded right over the teachers table at breakfast that morning. It was really something to see Professor Bennet (the equivalent of the old Professor MacGonagall) shaking stray cream out of her eyes and looking murderous.

But because of that incident, the teachers were determined to catch it. If they caught him and Victoire out of bed at three in the morning, then they were as good as dead. Sure Professor Longbottom was nice enough, but Victoire had a shrewd feeling that they were all being paid more.

Once they had gone, they sighed with relief and carried on.

It was once they had reached the corridor full of paintings of food that the un-thinkable had happened.

One of Victoire's French-plaits had swung round and was resting on his shoulder, as Victoire turned to look for teachers.

He willed himself not to look at it, but he couldn't help it-it was too mesmerising. He didn't know what it was about them-they were only French plaits for Merlin's sake, but every time she wore them, she had no idea the immense power she had over him.

"Vick?" He whispered. She didn't answer. "Vicka!"

"What?" She flung round. Thank goodness-the plait was off him now.

"Erm … nothing." He said, tickling the pear as he did so. The doorknob appeared, and they quickly went inside.

Despite the early hours of the morning, the entire house elf's were bustling around, all with a stray job to do. At once, several came up to them, one included Kreacher.

"Hello young master, how may we serve you?" He asked, bowing low and the locket he always wore swinging wildly.

"We were just hoping for some food." Victoire asked politely, pulling off the cloak. The house elf's obliged at once, bringing a dozen pastries and chocolate éclairs. Victoire looked delighted and took them.

"Hey Winky, how are you?" Teddy asked the elf. She looked a little drunk, but then again, she nearly always was. His godfather had told him that she had never really gotten over Mr Crouch sacking her.

"I'm fine Master Teddy." She hiccuped, straightening her skirt. She ambled her way over to the fireplace and downed a bottle of butterbear. Victoire looked amused.

"She'll get over it eventually." She said.

"That's what Aunt Hermione said like 20 years ago." Teddy answered back.

Victoire snickered and thanked the house elf's. Amidst many "Thank you Mistress Victoire!" she flung the cloak around themselves, and hiding the food as they went, started up the corridor and into the entrance hall.

They didn't talk back up to the Gryffindor common room. But it was by the fifth floor corridor, when anything interesting happened.

Teddy caught sight of one of Victoire French plaits again, just as Peeves came hurtling up the corridor, singing loudly. As he whooshed over them, Teddy was too busy trying to ignore the swooping feeling in his stomach to think of keeping a tight hold on the cloak.

As a result, it flew off.

Victoire squeaked, as Peeves turned around upside down in midair. He cackled loudly at the sight.

"Students out of bed?" He said evilly. "What luck! FILCH!"

"Oh Merlin, Teddy!" Victoire grabbed the cloak, but Teddy was possessed-he couldn't think about anything except of those French plaits.

"Teddy!" Victoire hissed, grabbing his arm, and attempted to pull him away. Peeves continued shouting "TEDDY-WEDDY AND THE WEASAL! DOWN THE FITH FLOOR CORRIDOR!" as Victoire panicked. Teddy felt oddly serene …

He didn't know what it was about the French plaits that was so … hmmm … was it the way they were interlocked with the next strand of hair? Or the way she had tied them off with golden ribbons? Or was it-

"Mr Lupin! Miss Weasley! Explain exactly why you two are out of bed at … eleven minutes past three in the morning?!"

Oh crap.


"I don't get it." Victoire said as they scrubbed down the various trophies in the trophy room. "The Nargles made you go all zoned out like that?"

Yes, he had used Nargles as the excuse. He'd rather say that than admit if was because he'd been ogling her hair of all things.

"Yeah, I don't know what came over me …" Teddy replied. "One minute I was about to run, next in all la-di-da, you know …"

"Hmmm …interesting." Victoire murmured. "We'll have to tell Auntie Luna."

"Yeah …"

It was then it hit him-he had gotten them in the worst trouble they'd been in years, just because he was staring at her.

He realized then he didn't just fancy her.

"I think …" He hesitated. "I think she looks beautiful." He muttered, talking to the floor. Harry grinned, and Ron whooped.

"What?" Teddy asked, as though apprehensive to find out the answer.

"You're in love with her, mate." Harry told him. Teddy looked terrified.

"What?!"

"You said she was beautiful." Ron said. "Not hot, not sexy, not pretty. But beautiful."

The memory came back to him as clear as day. Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron had been right.

He loved the girl scrubbing the Quidditch cup with a rag next to him.

Loved her.

So that's how he, Teddy Remus Lupin, was from that day forth, in love-that's right, in love-with his best friend of 12 years, Victoire Annabel Weasley.

And he still didn't have a bloody clue why.

Maybe it was the French plaits?

Or maybe-

Ok yes. It was definitely the French plaits.

Oh sweet Merlin, what had be gotten himself into?


A/N: Aaaand we're making progress. Teddy knows he's in luuurve with dear old Vicka. I hope you all liked it.

Reviews appreciated, until next time-

-Moon. : D