a/n: for tardisandafirebolt for requesting!

pairing: RoseTeddy
words: 725

shine
i'm not gonna write you a love song,
'cause you asked for it,
'cause you need one
/love song, sara bareilles/
;;

Shining was something Rose Weasley did not do. Sure, she was probably the most brilliant witch in Hogwarts since her mother, but that was not shining to her. Shining was the ability to stand up on stage and sing your heart out, shining was the ability to present your paintings in front of hundreds and hundreds of people, shining was the ability to draw everyone's attention to you with a simple bat of your eyelashes.

Rose Weasley could not do any one of those things.

So, in conclusion, Rose Weasley did not shine.

"Rose…this isn't right. You're not supposed to be with me." He gives her a pleading look and her heart breaks.

If we were to go to the very beginning of this, we would find ourselves on the Christmas Day of 2011. A young girl, ten, red-haired and obviously Weasley, would be seen watching a man of twenty. He would not be paying attention to her, but to a blonde woman in his arms. And- if we were to observe even further, we would see the embarrassment in the girl's eyes—

But we are not going to the beginning of this, because the beginning is not what matters in this failed love story. In fact, we will be starting from the very middle, when she is seventeen-going-on-eighteen and he is twenty seven.

"I like you, y'know." She glances up at him, their naked bodies pressed tightly together under flimsy sheets and he smiles.

"I like you too."

The middle of this mess is something of a cliché, the guy with the blue-eyed blonde and the sudden realization that oh, he's not happy after all. And that's when the girl—the heroine of the story rushes in, red-hair-curls-flying and with a bit of development— they're together.

But not together in that way, no, not a relationship.

Sex. That's it, really. It's just sex to him, just sex to her at first, secret meetings in closets and stupid attempts at romance, and that's when she realizes it's not just sex.

"I—I have to tell you something, Teddy." She sits up, bare-breasted but right now, she doesn't care. He beckons for her to go on, trying to look serious but his eyes are twinkling with laughter and she sucks in a long breath. "I'm—well, I'm kind of, sort of…in love with you?"

His eyes—previously blue—darken to navy and he looks at her seriously.

"In love, Rose?"

She looks away and when he doesn't do anything, doesn't say anything, she starts to get up. "Forget it. It was nothing. I was just—never mind."

He nods and pulls her back to the bed.

They make love (that's what she'd like to believe) once again, and she almost feels it—almost.

Right after this part right here is when things change. It would be—as you call it—a climax. This is the turning point. This is when (normally) the guy would realize he was in love with the heroine. After all, this is a love story, right?

Wrong.

"Rose—I was thinking about what you said earlier-"

"Teddy, I didn't—that wasn't…" She blushes. "I didn't mean that." She averts his eyes. It's obvious she meant it.

"No- let me finish." His eyes bore into hers and for once, they aren't betraying any emotion. "I'm not in love with you, Rose."

This is when Rose, the heroine, would normally a) break into tears or b) tries to throw things at him. This is the part of the (messed up) love story when the girl cries and the guy comforts her, and then they live happily ever after.

But Rose Weasley does not shine in that cliché way that love stories all seem to have. She does not cry.

"Okay." She crawls over to him again, pressing her lips to his and her skin is rubbing on his in such a wonderful way, and—

"Rose…this isn't right. You're not supposed to be with me."

Her heart breaks.

We have finally arrived at the ending- or beginning, whatever- and this is where everything just sort of falls apart for Rose, the heroine never meant to shine, and maybe (obviously) she's in the wrong story.

Rose-and-Teddy was never meant to be—this love story was one that wasn't meant to happen—

Which is why it didn't.

a/n: oh lord, was that confusing? sorry, guys. my head is pounding and i've been on a car for about ten hours, and this is horrible. reviews, please.