And after many short(er) chapters (a.k.a 2000 words ones), finally a long one.

I LOVE the review I've been getting! Thanks so much! And many thanks to those who added me to their C2s (:

Disclaimer: Neither of my grandmothers are named Kathleen.

--

Easter could not have had better timing. The vacation came only two days after the miserable watery event, and so I was allowed to sulk out of the teachers' sights all I wanted.

I didn't think I'd ever been so shaken up over a break-up. It was much more of a Haley/Caitlyn thing to do. Theri and I were the more oblivious half of the quartet. I knew the reason was that the one with Jules Winchcombe was the best relationship I'd ever been in so far, despite the impediments. My friends, bless them, could see that I preferred being left alone just then to being piled with attention. They gave me space and didn't ask many questions after fifteen minutes of prodding about the proceedings:

"Vic, it's better to let it out than to hold it in," Hale urged softly.

"Just save us the benefit of doubt for the sake of this dorm room?" Theri inquired lightly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I blinked and told them of the Edwena and the stupid Slytherin Easter party incident, and me turning away, and the sigh I heard, and the sudden tremor of anger that flowed through me.

I told them of how I'd turn around and told him, my voice thick of mock and infuriation, something along the lines of, "Listen, if being with me and talking to me has become such a heavy burden for you and is crushing your poor heart that is so split and torn between your little slithy, slimy, sickening, stupid Slytherin friends and me, then I'd say it's about time that I made the choice for you, since you obviously are not capable of making a proper decision of any sort. Let me go. Because despite how great you are as an individual, this package you come with"—I noted that at this point a gave a shocked Edwena a disgusted glare— "and your twenty thousand gallons of sensitivity you keep towards your friends and the little tablespoon you contain for me is enough to make me sick. In fact, with the treatment I'd been getting, I'm surprised someone hasn't given me a Merlin Peace Prize for not slaughtering all of your impressive and impermeable little gang!" He'd looked at me as if he'd never seen me before, shock and hurt scrawled across his face that was then extremely pale. I'd turn on my heels for the second time then and stormed away without pausing or turning back again.

My three best friends applauded me for my reactions then, and never inquired about the break-up again, which I loved them for.

My sister and cousins must've heard of my once-again single status (I couldn't bear to think of the gossip and Edwena's triumphant grins), but didn't say anything to me on the subject either. Ted was as sympathetic as he, being his stubborn self, could be. He hardly insulted Winchcombe, and didn't tease me once. He also (not unexpectedly) assured me more than several times that I was much better off this way. Theri had shoved him away at that.

I indulged myself in my studies and vowed to go through the entire holiday without shedding another tear. Hale and I began seeing less and less of our two other friends—the Quidditch final was set on April twenty-eighth, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, and Luke wasn't about to let them off easy. Gryffindor was a hundred-ninety points behind cup-wise (due to the game lost in November and Slytherins crushing Hufflepuff), and so Ted was given daily (more like hourly) warnings to only ever catch the snitch when they were ahead by at least fifty points.

On the night of the second-to-last day of the holidays, I'd fallen asleep in the common room while reading (common habit lately) without bathing. It was two in the morning when I woke and I was quick to pick up my washing things and run to the shower rooms. I didn't think I would find Ted in the front room of the Gryffindor showers, doing push-ups on the floor.

In nothing but a pair of boxers.

I'd let out a small shriek when I noticed human life as I entered, and he stopped his exercise to look at me. He appeared as shocked as I was. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I couldn't sleep, so I was planning to burn off some fat and then shower directly afterwards."

There was unquestionably no need for that. I didn't think I'd seen Ted this bare since I was eleven or twelve. I had to admit, he was hot. Deadly, sinfully, mind-bogglingly hot. His abs looked carved and his biceps were as perfect as can be, not too muscular but just right. Honestly, those were the arms that hugged me? Theri and I were way luckier than we thought.

Ted noticed where I was staring at. He grinned widely. "Like what you see?" I made an incomprehensible sound, knowing I must have been as red as the setting sun, and seated myself in a wooden bench a few feet away from him. He laughed heartily. "By the way, I didn't morph this. I prefer it the honest way."

"Right."

"Sorry to appear so indecorous. I wasn't expecting company."

"No problem."

He laughed again, draped a towel over his perfectly shaped shoulders and arms, and sat next to me. I noted with amazement that even when covered in sweat, my nose still had access to the usual scent of shampoo, laundry, and cologne (and I hated to admit this, but I'd always loved how Ted smelled). No wonder the female Hogwarts population thought him perfect: he was pretty damn close. I saw that he was still grinning.

"What's so funny?"

"Your expression." He doubled over with laughter. Hot or not, I could kill him right that moment. "Just how did you suppose I attract so many young women…and elderly ones? Just the face and the charm?" he asked shamelessly when he was done laughing. I seethed in response. "Alright, fine. Don't amuse me. If you're not going to appreciate this, I'm covering it up." He pulled a t-shirt over his head.

"I showed you mine, you show me yours." I slapped him hard on the knee. He winced but smiled. "Fine, be that way. Spoilsport."

I stuck my tongue out at him and quickly departed to one of the cubicles, trying hard not to picture his Greek God torso in my head as I turned on the shower.

--

"Vic?"

Go away. Let me sleep, for Merlin's sake.

"Vic?"

Stop prodding me. What's your bloody problem?

"Oi, Victoire."

Alright, alright, I'll open my eyes. Stop the poking already.

I whisk of sunlight escaped through the heavy curtains of the common room. At first I wondered why my dorm had been refurnished, and then I realized. I looked to my right to see who had woke me.

Well, who else? But of course Ted Lupin. "Morning."

"Morning to you too," he grinned. "I thought your purposes of going to the showers was so you could actually go to bed."

"I fell asleep again trying to finish that book I fell asleep reading in the first place."

"Must be an awful book."

I shrugged and observed my surroundings once more. "Where did the blanket come from?"

"Not me. Probably a house-elf." And this is why I couldn't understand why people only laughed at that association Aunt Hermione started for house-elf rights. They were by far one of the greatest magical creatures ever.

I looked at Ted. His milk chocolate eyes were glittering with amusement, though I certainly didn't see anything amusing. Did I have awful bed head or something? His face was glowing under the dim sunlight, his features emphasized by it instead of blurred. The perfect brows, the large, long-lashed eyes, the bold nose, the full lips, all framed in a rather heart-shaped face. Wait, why was I scrutinizing him?

"Do you really want me to shut up that much?" he was saying. I noted with a start that I had laid my index finger on his lower lip subconsciously. I quickly removed it and looked away, damning myself for blushing.

Ted grinned. He was still in his boxers, along with a loose t-shirt with a Chinese Fireball printed on it (his favorite dragon). I inquired about his casual wear. "I was just getting water," he explained. "It's only four in the morning, a time when everyone is supposedly sleeping in their own beds upstairs."

"Shut up." Wait, that's not right. Today was… "Holy goat! Ted, it's your birthday!"

He seemed even more amused. "Yes, I know. And the general reference is cow, not goat."

"No, I actually finished wrapping your present. Wait here, don't move." He put up his hands in mock surrender and I ran up the stairs to the girl's dormitories to search for his present. I discovered it under a stack of clothes. It had been there since after Christmas Holidays, when I first got the idea. I raced back downstairs and almost tumbled at the last step. I gave him the evil eye, seeing his expression. "Here you go, my dearest prat."

"An eighteen-years-old and very charming prat, if you please," he began unwrapping it. Courtesy and reserves between him, Theri and I had evaporated a long time ago. He stopped talking, however, as soon as he set his eyes on the contents in the box. "Vic…this…I can't…"

I smiled, and he folded me into his arms. "You like it, then? You don't think it's too feminine?"

"Stop your trap and the squirming and let me hold you." I laughed and wrapped my arms around his waist as well. After a while, he let go of me. "And no, I don't think it's too feminine at all. But be careful and get yourself ready, because lockets are going to be in style as soon as someone sees me wearing this."

He struggled with the clip as he tried to put it on, and I leaned over his shoulder to do it for him. It was maddening how great his hair smelled this close up, though I had no idea why I was thinking that. This was just…Ted.

"Where did you get the picture?" he had opened the locket again and was looking at the picture inside. It was a miniature copy of the one his father was carrying in his pocket the night he was killed: baby Ted with a large tuff of turquoise hair. I knew it was one of his all-time favorites, and that he cherished the original like nothing else.

"I had to get help from your grandmother. After all, you did keep it in that extravagant frame of yours in your room. I had no access. I just wanted to give you something special after what you gave me for Christmas."

"Vic, this is way better than what I gave you. Now I have to make it up to you again."

"If we're going to count the things you need to make up to me, we'd be here the whole week," I said fondly, and he hugged me again. This time tighter, and I couldn't breathe (not because I was thinking of anything, but literally). I pushed him away, but I didn't think he noticed.

"I love you, you know that?"

"Oh, stop it," I mimed comical modesty, and he chuckled, his hand still rested on the chain. I dared not share with him the churning of my stomach at his words. Instead, I escaped to (finally) my bed soon afterwards, still wondering about the strange twists and turns my stomach endured.

I just seriously couldn't be shallow enough to start feeling shy around Ted after seeing his physique. No, honestly. It was all the breaking up and the hugs. Really nice-smelling hugs. They reminded me of Winchcombe's, and that was it. That must have been it. Because I would never, never, ever have any feelings of that sort for Ted Remus Lupin.

Never.

I had a rough time sleeping afterwards, and was relieved when the others got up and we could grab some breakfast. We spent a short while marveling at Ted's mountain of birthday presents (from the entire Weasley family, his friends, as well as a large population of admirers) on the Gryffindor table, and later Hale excused herself to the Ravenclaw table to be with her boy. Caitlyn was pulled away by her first-year brother for an anonymous reason, and that was when I told Theri about my little detour last night. She seemed amused.

"Of course I know he's got the perfect body. The boys don't really bother covering up their upper bodies in the changing room."

I swallowed. "Don't you feel a little…odd…when he hugs you? When you know what's underneath?" I asked a little hopefully. She cocked her head in thought.

"No, not really. I mean, the growing up together kinda takes the excitement out of it."

"Oh. I mean yeah, same here."

"Gotta admit though, he smells good."

"Doesn't he?" I agreed. I had a thing for good-smelling boys. But not this one. Definitely not this one.

Caitlyn sat back down across from me. "Who are we talking about?"

"What did he want?"

She rolled her eyes. "He ripped his pants at a sensitive spot and needed help. So what's up?"

"Vic bumped into Ted three-quarters naked last night."

Caitlyn grinned knowingly. "Like what you saw?"

"You sound like him," I muttered darkly.

"You know who else has a perfect body?" she asked, and I shook my head, even though I did (Winchcombe…Rand…). "Captain Wood. I've seen it—well, not all of it. But what I saw was flawless. Poked him in the stomach once, almost shattered my finger. Hard without even flexing, those abs were."

"Caitlyn, I think your owl just sky-dived into some poor Hufflepuff's plate," I observed over her shoulder. Caitlyn frowned in annoyance and rushed over. Stew the owl had always been a rather confused creature, poor thing. I noticed how Theri hadn't said a word. "Well?"

"It is flawless," she said calmly without meeting my eyes. "All of it."

I spat out what I was chewing. "Catherine Weasley, you did not."

She burst out laughing at my reaction. "No I didn't. But the abs, I did. They weren't just hard, either," her eyes twinkled. "They were rock hard."And there after a little pause, we both cracked up.

--

"Welcome to our last match of the year, the one that will determine our champion," Dom's voice boomed through the entire Quidditch pitch. Hale and I sat down in the audience seats, alone since Peter had a detention for being caught in school grounds after lights-out (after meeting with Hale). "Gryffindor vs. Slytherin!"

Everyone roared, waving banners or flags. It appeared that all Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had decided to take Gryffindor's side instead of remaining neutral. The red and gold around the audience ring was blinding, only intruded by spots of green and silver. Hale and I waved our miniature lion flags in the air, cheering like everyone else.

Madam Spinnet walked into the center of the pitch, whistle in hand. The two teams filed in, their faces dead serious. The stadium roared again. The coach kicked open the box containing the balls and let out the Snitch and the Bludgers with a wave of her wand. The previous shot out and disappeared among the clouds, whilst the latter two zoomed about the lower part of the stadium dangerously.

"Alright Captains, shake hands," she ordered. Luke and Zabini (his dad was an idiot Death Eater wannabe if I'd ever heard of one) stepped up, wringing each other's hands, faces hostile and veins popping. When they let go, Madam Spinnet continued. "Mount your brooms…" They did. "Get set…" They crouched. She blew her whistle and threw the Quaffle into the air simultaneously, and Dom's voice boomed again.

"Let the match begin! Currently Gryffindor is behind Slytherin by a hundred-ninety points in running for the cup, but of course, the Gryffindor team has a great chance. The house has not seen a better team in years. So now we should just sit back and watch the Slytherins get—ouch, Professor Longbottom. Just trying to loosen up the mood—Anyway, Gryffindor in possession of the Quaffle. Captain Wood, I mean. Passes to Abigail Finnegan, who passes back to—nope, excellent false move, passes to Caitlyn Bristow. Bristow goes for it and—oh, fended off by Jerold Zabini. How strange, usually he lets everything in—sorry, Professor, my fault—Slytherin in possession…"

I watched Jules Winchcombe zoom past me, Quaffle in hand. I couldn't help but frown at his concentration, wondering why he never put that sort of energy into me. No, stop it, Victoire. This wasn't healthy at all.

"...Jules Winchcombe. The guy is sort of an obnoxious gi—OUCH, Professor! Prodding people with the tip of your wand can cause serious damage, sir!"

"Dom!" I gasped. Did she honestly insult Winchcombe in front of the whole school? I knew exactly why. I was supposed to be the protective sister, not her! Hale shrugged at me, finding this all incredibly funny.

"Your sister's got talent," she remarked affectionately.

"Alright, alright. He passes to Nicolas Pratt," she pulled on a snicker at his surname, but didn't comment (probably scared she'll lose the position if she did). "But no, a Bludger for Fred Weasley. Gryffindor in possession—Finnegan passes to Bristow. Abigail is the youngest member on the team, only a second-year—Bristow passes to Wood, who passes back over the head of Slytherin Chaser Sophia Bynes. Bristow dodges a Bludger sent by Vince Goyle and—no, she doesn't—yes, she does! Ten to zero to Gryffindor!

"Once again, Jules Winchcombe in possession. He's going to—never mind, he keeps going. He shoots—a perfect catch by Catherine Weasley! Still ten to zero, Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin, no, back to Gryffindor—you go Wood—"

The match worn on, intensity hanging in the air, as well as Ted. What I meant was that he was at least five feet about everyone, looking around the pitch and staying out of trouble. The old Seeker trick, I suppose. The Slytherin Seeker, Jessica Jensen, a fourth-year who was an inevitable airhead plus Edwena Yule wannabe, hovered a few feet below him, following the exact same tactic.

"Oh, ouch! A Bludger strikes Weasley square in the stomach. I wonder if she's okay—and if that was legal? It was? Oh, then I guess thirty to thirty with Gryffindor in possession…"

"Do you reckon Theri's fine?" Hale asked me worriedly. Theri was bent over, holding her stomach, and giving death glares to the Beater who had attacked her.

"Yeah, she's tough enough." I hope.

"Forty-thirty to Slytherin," Dom reported sullenly. "The blow must have hurt after all. But—aha! Forty-forty! Beautiful shot by Bristow. OH, NO! That's—YES! He shoots, he scores! Captain Wood gains another ten points for Gryffindor!"

The match continued, the points flying back and forth. At one point, when Abigail scored another shot, and we were in the lead by fifty, Ted dived.

"He saw something, definitely! Yes, I believe he—what? WHAT ARE YOU DOING, JENSEN?"

Jessica Jensen had grabbed on to the handle of Ted's broom and was riding along, arm outstretched, apparently hoping to not spend an effort to get to the Snitch. Ted turned back, looking like he was going to hit her, but Madam Spinnet blew the whistle for a penalty and distracted him.

"Foul, foul act!" Dom was saying fervently. "Not that we were expecting anything more coming from the Slytherin team, that is!" I waited for Professor Longbottom to poke her with his wand warningly, but he was yelling at the Slytherin Seeker from the commentator's box, his round face flushed. "Bristow's going to take the shot. An excellent player, she is. Started last year and has never let Gryffindor down—YES! SHE SCORES! ONE HUNDRED TO FORTY FOR GRYFFINDOR!"

Hale and I bounced up and down in our seats for our friend as she did a loop in the sky for celebration. Ted was up high again, seething, searching once again for the Snitch that had went missing.

"One hundred to fifty…Gryffindor can win the cup any moment now. As long as Lupin manages to—Bristow dives, but no, Winchcombe steals the Quaffle—ah, Bludger from Roberts knocks it—Finnegan in possession—charges, passes to Wood—to Bristow—Finnegan—go away, Goyle. Ah, timely Bludger from Freddie Weasley—back to Wood. he sco—"

There was a magical moment when less than half of the audience noticed the action many feet above the Chasers, Beaters, and Keepers: Teddy Lupin had charged up, closely pursued by Jessica Jensen, and was raising a triumphant arm in the air, shouting something inaudible.

"What? I don't believe it! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! LUPIN CATCHES THE SNITCH—GRYFFINDOR—GRYFFINDOR HAS WON THE CUP! TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY POINTS TO SLYTHERIN'S MERE FIFTY! WE'VE WON IT! WE'VE WON THE CUP! WE'VE WON THE DARN CUP!"

I let out a scream and jumped out of my seat, turning to see a just as thrilled Hale, and we hugged, bouncing up and down, screaming our heads off. The stadium exploded along with us. Everyone except for the Slytherins and most of the professors (remaining neutral, blah blah blah) were jumping up and down, laughing and cheering. Forget banning house-prejudice, this was great. Dom was jumping on the desk of the commentary box, and then hopped off to pull Professor Longbottom into a hyper victory dance.

A few rows in front o us Hagrid had let out a thunderous roar and was giving several second-years a massive bear hug. Molly was jumping hysterically in her seat with a few other third-years, her nails digging into her cheeks in her excitement. Slytherin had been hogging the cup for two years in a row now (Luke's greatest regret), and now, at last!

I saw the Slytherin team landing to spit on the ground, pulling on murderous faces. The Gryffindor team, meanwhile, had landed and were hugging and some crying. Luke looked like he was more than ready compete with Moaning Myrtle. All three of the girls were weeping as well, and I was sure Theri hadn't cried since second year. The audience was allowed on the pitch, and hundreds of students including Hale and I raced to congratulate the team, who were moving towards Professor McGonagall with the giant, shining trophy.

When Luke held the trophy into the air, tears still pouring down his front, the entire (well, close) stadium exploded once again. Even louder this time, if possible. Caitlyn came running to hug us, unable to form coherent words. When she let go, I was pulled into yet another group hug by Dom, Molly, and Freddie. I congratulated him heartily, but he didn't seem to trust himself to speak, and just nodded continuously. I left him to his friends, and looked up to see Ted raised in the air by a group of male students, holding the Snitch above his head. They let him down, and after a few slaps on the back and chest-bumps, he made his way towards me.

I smiled my biggest at him, and ran into his arms. He spun me in the air until I was dizzy, and I managed to plant kisses on both his cheeks before he was hauled away by a group of eager fangirls. I began searching for Theri, who proved to be not hard to track down. All around me a silent surge went through the crowds as their eyes found her as well.

Theri was on the platform where the cup had been delivered, held in the arms of Luke Wood. All around me jaws dropped as they kissed as if their lives depended on it in front of practically the whole school. After all, their hostility towards each other had been common knowledge among the students. Molly looked like her eyeballs could fall out any minute, whilst Hale, Caitlyn and Ted had their mouths hanging to almost below their collar bones. Theri and Luke either didn't notice the quietness, or didn't care. They were both still holding their brooms and the trophy, and the fact that the whole school was watching them didn't seem to bother them at all.

Feeling as if it was time for a little distraction, I bellowed "Gryffindor!" and the crowds burst into celebration once more.

As I watched Theri and Luke pull apart slowly, looking into each other's eyes (he'd stopped crying), I was sure this was by far one of the best days in my life.

--

The reason why it was so long is mainly because of the match. I love writing Quidditch matches.

By the way, I've put up a little character profile on my profile. After being asked how to pronounce Theri (Theh-ree), I thought I'd put something of the sort up. It's only extra reference and for fun though.