Ted worked too much to properly notice that the Summer had passed, but it did, and for the most part uneventfully. He was able to avoid Victoire and all major Weasley gatherings, although as he hadn't been invited to a single one of them the task became an easy one. Despite his relief that he wouldn't have to turn down an offer - they were rarely rejected without a fuss and without an extremely good reason - he did feel hurt that it had been so easy for the Weasleys to see the back of him so quickly. He had spent as much time at the Burrow growing up as Victoire had, but he supposed that when it came down to it blood really was thicker than water.
Ted imagined that Bill Weasley had been elated by his absence. No doubt the man had cracked open the finest bottle of French champagne the night his daughter returned to tell him that they were over and toasted to Ted's awful health. Victoire would be free move on to someone who would meet Bill's exceptionally high standards, although Ted had never been quite sure what he had done to fail them.
August thirty-first, the day before the Hogwarts Express was due to depart Ted woke feeling as though he was lighter somehow. Although he missed her terribly the idea of Victoire being hundreds of miles away at school gave him some relief. There would be no threat of running into her in Diagon Alley or whilst at dinner at Harry's. He wouldn't have to feel that sudden jolt of excitement and then that inevitable swift ache of sadness when one of the Potter children mentioned her in conversation or that moment of irrational panic when he saw a blond head of hair walk into the shop.
Ted was beginning to feel as though he was a fraction of his former self. Bit by bit, he promised himself, life would slowly get better. It may never be fully okay, but he would manage with what he had and do his best. The idea of Victoire moving on, keeping busy and living her life the way she should was oddly comforting to him. He would stand at the sidelines, quietly loving her, whilst she blossomed and grew.
The final day of the summer holidays was always a particularly busy one for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Children lined the aisles and crowded around the stands, desperate to fill their pockets with whatever mischief they could. The most popular products were depleted by lunch time and Ted had returned from the stockroom a dozen times or more only to be mobbed by children before the product could even reach the shelves. It would take weeks for them to properly fill the stock supplies to the level they should be, and yet every year, despite George and Ron's preparation, they continued to run short by the end of the day.
"It's going to be a crazy term this year," George said proudly. He was sorting through the tills, the bag he was emptying coins into was bulging and took two arms to lift it.
"The professor's won't know what hit them," Ted agreed, reaching around the display in the shop window, removing the products there into the shelves behind. He had a smile on his face, a satisfied grin that Ted could only achieve from a hard days work. He was aching and sweaty, but there was something comforting from knowing it was because he had worked for it.
He blamed his good mood for not being as aware of his surroundings as he should have been. There was a tap on the glass. Looking up, his heart sank and the smile left his face when he realised it wasn't just a child pointing out a product to their parent, but the person he had worked so hard to avoid all summer. Victoire stood there, small and perfect in the rush of kids around her. Her hair had grown and was golden from a summer spent in the sunshine, her bare arms nicely browned. She smiled at him shyly.
Ted had pictured the moment they would meet again over and over in his mind, but he'd never got it right, her details had been hazy and imperfect. Despite him taking hours of his life to memorize her every feature, she still was too beautiful for his memory to ever really get it right.
She waved slightly and turned, and for a brief second he hoped that that would be it, a passing greeting, and she would leave. The shop door opened, and then she was there.
Well, fuck.
His mouth went dry. He straightened up and rubbed his arm self consciously. The short sleeves from his Weasley Wizard's Wheezes uniform didn't cover the scars up his forearms, maintaining that amount of morphed appearance all day was an exhaustion he couldn't be bothered with and he had taken to wearing a long shirt underneath, despite the heat from the shop making it uncomfortable. George had never asked and he'd never explained. He tugged at the sleeves to cover them completely, but of course she would know.
"Hi Teddy." She said softly, and her smile was hesitant. "Have you got five minutes?"
He would give her the rest of his life if he could. How could he resist her? Five minutes with Victoire sounded perfection but Ted knew that if he was given the chance to spend time alone with her he would do something he would regret and it would only cause pain for them both. He glanced around the shop needlessly, desperate for an excuse to avoid her. "I'm a bit busy right now," he said, and his voice sounded weak and child-like. Pathetic.
"No he isn't," George supplied helpfully. Ted shot him a look.
"I don't have a break for another two hours," he said pointedly.
George smiled sweetly at them both. "Teddy, you work too hard. Go get a cup of tea and show Victoire the new biscuits we have. They've got chocolate in them," he added excitedly.
Ted glared at his boss, who smiled innocently back at him, but there was little he could do. If he refused Victoire further it would be obvious he was trying to avoid her. Perhaps she only wanted to say goodbye before she left for school? What harm could it really do for them to talk? He nodded to her, turned on the spot and then, uncaringly elbowing his way past several children, he weaved through the crowd towards the back of the shop.
A quick glance back told him that Victoire was following only a few steps behind him. He led her through the rear door, up the stairs and into the old studio flat George had shared with his brother during the war. Now used as an extended stock room and office, it housed an old sofa, a kettle and a small dining set against the wall.
He took his time, meticulously making them a cup of tea each with painful precision, waiting for her to speak. When she had yet to say anything and the minutes stretched on he forced himself to look at her with a timid smile. What do you say to the woman you love but can't spend your life with? She appeared uncertain of herself, staring at the floor, so unlike the confident girl he was used to. Growing up it had always been Victoire who had gotten them in trouble, her silly ideas and loud mouth always gave them away, even when they had nothing to feel guilty about she somehow managed to land them in it by chattering about something they had done previously. Some days it was a struggle just to get her to shut her up, but he could listen to her talk for hours.
Ted didn't like this quiet ghost of a girl he had created.
He opened his mouth several times to speak but what could he say? He stared at her instead. Eventually, he managed "how've you been?"
He cursed himself. How had she been? Was that what their relationship was reduced to, mindless smalltalk and awkward silences?
She laughed tightly, but she was in no way amused. "For Merlin's sake, Teddy. How do you think I've been? You never come around anymore. I've not had any letters from you. You've avoided every meal at my Grandmothers. I'm beginning to think that you really don't care about me anymore."
His mouth went dry. "I do care," he said desperately. "Of course I still care, I'll always care about you."
She sniffed and looked him in the eye sharply. "You've a terrible way of showing it."
"I'm sorry." It wasn't enough. It could never be enough.
"I miss you." She said. "You didn't come to visit me once this summer. I'm not used to spending this long away from you."
Had she really wanted him to visit her? He had expected that if he'd turned up at her door she or her father would have cursed him into oblivion. Too soon, he had told himself, to be trying to make friends and pretending that things could go back to how they were before they had begun to date. They weren't ready for that quite yet. Or at least, he wasn't.
"I miss you too," he admitted. "But that doesn't change anything. What I said still stands. I...thought it'd be too hard. I was trying to respect you."
"Respect," she repeated with a hollow laugh. "How about you 'respect' me and stop this stupid noble quest you're on, trying to protect me from a threat that isn't even there." Victoire narrowed her eyes at him, and for a moment he saw the girl he recognised. Victoire was at her finest when she was screaming at him. "We could make it work," she whispered. When he took a brief glance up her face he realised she was crying. Oh, fuck. How had he managed to make their awful situation even worse? He hated it when she cried.
Shaking his head, he said "You deserve more than just settling for second best. You deserve the very best."
Victoire looked at him sternly. "And what about what you deserve?"
Not once had Ted stopped to consider himself of deserving anything. Andromeda had once described her Grandson as a simple man, in the very best way. A home cooked meal, a quidditch match on the radio and a weekend with good company and Ted was at his happiest. Right now all Ted desired was his girlfriend back and a half-decent career path. Simple indeed. But never once did it occur to him that he was in any way deserving of the things he wanted.
"It isn't about what I need," he forced, because she was getting awfully close and he had to say something. She stared him down, a skill in itself when she was a good foot shorter than he was. But such was the spell she had over him that if she told him to do something, anything, he'd be forced to comply.
Weasley women were excellent at that.
"What you need is a good slap and a wakeup call." She said it in a way that made his heart pump, more intrigued than scared by her threat. She was inches from him, if had he the courage to do so he could lean down and kiss her. "Because I am in no way done with you, Teddy Lupin."
Oh, how much he wanted to believe her. What he would do to be her project again, have her fix him and soothe his insecurities, dig beneath the surface and discover him like she had so many times before. Bit by bit. No one had the ability to heal him like Victoire had. She had taught him about himself, and together they were exploring each others secrets. Their slow unfolding game had stretched out behind them with no foreseeable end point in sight. Until now.
Ted closed his eyes for a few seconds, partly to avoid looking at her and partly to stop himself from crying, but mostly so that he could inhale and breathe her in again, focusing solely on the scent of her. She wore some expensive french perfume her mother bought back from Paris every year, and it smelled delicious.
They could be anywhere, he imagined, alone and none of this could ever have happened. This could just be another afternoon spent hiding behind curtains. He could be whole again and she would get the outcome she so obviously wanted.
For a second he considered the possibility. He could be selfish and they could live quietly somewhere, never rich but within their means if they were careful. They wouldn't be married or able to have children, but they would have each other and wasn't that what every song on the radio was about? They could have a vegetable patch, and a labrador, and keep themselves busy in other, more unconventional ways. True love prevails, and all that.
But Ted loved her too much. It was simple. He loved her but she was too everything for him. Too smart, too successful. Too far out of his league, had they not grown up together. One day she would amount to great things and marry a great man and he would not be the one to hold her back from happniess. Love overcomes difficulty, Ginny had told him, and he agreed. This was the most difficult decision of his life, but love spurred him on to do the right thing.
"It's for the best," he muttered, trying to convince himself more than her, finally able to stare into her eyes.
Victoire had that face on her that said she was up to something. He knew that look - he had lived for that look - it was the same one that had gotten them in trouble the year before when Rita Skeeter had spotted them at the Quidditch World Cup in a dark corner with a bottle of sangria. It was that look which had kept him up so late the year before, thinking of her. It was the same look that had kept them up late together.
She pressed herself against him, leaning into his chest on her tip toes, lips an inch from his. "Hmm," she sighed, and he felt the breath on his cheek. Ted felt his body draw towards her involuntarily, his shoulders stoop to match hers - why the hell couldn't his brain and body coordinate on the things he thought they had previously agreed on? - he been so sure that he had control over the situation but she was an irresistible force that he was drawn to. Self control indeed. She lifted herself to him so their lips met, only briefly, just a taste to remind him of the things he was missing.
"I'm not giving up," she told him, lips tracing his as he talked, hands on his forearms anchoring him in place. Entirely unnecessary, he concluded, his body wouldn't move even if he had wanted it to.
Ted absolutely didn't want her to give up on him. Her hand laced into his hair and he dipped his mouth to hers. Ted couldn't help himself, his hands found her back, her waist, her hips. Her body was familiar, his only constant in the chaos of the past few years, the heat between them comforting and alluring all the same.
"We shouldn't-" He kissed her neck, her shoulder, her jawline. "-Be…" She cut him off with a bite to the lip. "...Doing this." He was being pushed back onto the sofa roughly. He let her.
Victoire stood over him, defiant. "So stop," she said, lifting a leg around his to straddle his lap.
"Huh?" His hands were on her hips, drawing them closer to him. When had he done that?
"You want to stop?" She pressed herself against him. "So stop." A roll of her hips convinced him that it was absolutely not a possibility. Kissing down his neck, she continued to talk. "You're going through hell right now," she brushed her hair back from her face. Leave it, he begged silently. "I get that. You need some time to figure everything out, and your gut reaction was to protect me." She smiled gently. "A noble response. But Dad said to give you time, you'd come around and start thinking clearly when you've had a chance to figure yourself out."
That surprised him. That Bill Weasley was willing to defend him, and further, encourage his daughter to wait for him to change his mind was unexpected. It had seemed that no matter how well he had treated Victoire or how carefully he played to Bill's rules (Ted had. Victoire had consistently broken them, landing them both in trouble and more than once in a position they couldn't talk themselves out of, such as the one they were in now.) he had continued to vocally discourage Ted coming around and had gone out of his way to inconvenience their meetings. They had lost the privilege to sit on the same couch when they'd been caught snogging early on in their relationship and closed doors had instantly been a luxury of the past the moment Rita Skeeter's article had been released.
"You shouldn't waste your time waiting for me," he repeated.
Victoire sighed and extracted herself from him. Every part of his body rebelled at the movement and he felt himself reach out to her. Ted really, really hated himself sometimes.
She stood, and the distance between them was a cavern. "I'm not done with you, Ted." She said again, shaking her head to emphasise her annoyance. "When you've figure out this nonsense write to me. You know where I'll be." Victoire picked up her bag from where she had thrown it to the floor and flicked her hair as she stormed from the room, the door slamming loudly behind her.
Ted led out a long sigh. He didn't follow and he couldn't watch her go. A deep breath told him her perfume was still on the air but it faded too quickly for him to really enjoy it. Probably for the best, he reminded himself bitterly. The sweet reminder of her was torture, but he missed it all the same. Would this be how life was for him now? He would be granted a taste to remind him what he was missing before it flitted from his grasp once more.
He groaned and pulled himself from the sofa. He had to get back to work.
Victoire left the shop, somewhat satisfied with the information she had learnt about Ted. She had been worried that when he hadn't contacted her this summer that he truly meant what he had said, but now she was confident that with time Ted would come around and return back to her. He was just being silly, doing that thing that Ted did where he over-thought and obsessively worried about unnecessary details. But she was sure about it, it wouldn't take him too long to realise he couldn't live without her.
Victoire always got what she wanted. This wasn't to say that she was spoilt, or mean, or in any way a cold-hearted young woman. Quite the opposite. It was more that she was goal-orientated, to the point of obsessiveness on occasion. It was part of the reason she and Ted were so good for each other, she calmed him down when he got his head in a spin and he was her anchor that stopped her when she became too focused on some impossible task. They worked.
She rarely didn't succeed. She would be persistent until she had what she wanted, whether it be exam results or convincing her boyfriend to spend the evening with her. This was how she had gotten Ted in the first place, how they had found themselves splashed across the front page of the paper at the Quidditch World Cup two years before and this was exactly how she was going to get Ted back. She had no doubt he still wanted her, this was just some silly chivalry on his part, meant to protect her from a life he thought she couldn't handle.
She could see Ted was hurting, and it pained her that he was pushing her away when he so needed her. But with the constant reminder that she still loved him it was only a matter of time. Y even armed with that knowledge, she couldn't deny that she was struggling and that she missed him, she had been relying on his support to survive the chaos that would be her final years at Hogwarts.
Time, she reminded herself.
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