Ten days later, with half a Christmas cake and a tin containing a dozen home made mince pies in his bag, Teddy is sitting in the back of a black cab with his grandmother. The taxi is firmly stuck in traffic near Paddington station, and Teddy can tell from the set of his grandmother's lips that she's contemplating what they've only done once before: a side-along apparition from a nearby back street straight to Platform 9¾.
It's not that they're late; no, it's only half past nine, so they'll certainly make the train, which leaves at eleven. But Andromeda has always preferred to drop her grandson off early, giving him plenty of money to buy himself a magazine, a hot drink and something to eat. He's done this since he was eleven years old, and it never seemed strange to him until September.
He had been dropped off at ten o'clock as always, and had sat in one of the cafés across the street from Kings Cross, drinking tea and picking at a Danish pastry. He had been flicking through a newspaper when he saw the Potters – all five of them – walking into the station.
When he caught up with them at Platform 9¾ he saw that James was proudly pushing a trolley with a new trunk precariously balanced on it, and remembered that he was starting at Hogwarts that year.
"Teddy!" Ginny had exclaimed at the sight of him as he hung back, shy and awkward, not wanting to interrupt their family scene. "Harry, it's Teddy."
"Hello," Teddy had smiled weakly. "Is James starting today, then?"
"Yes," Harry smiled, and Teddy could see the pride in his eyes. Then he looked around, as if searching for someone. "Is your grandmother around?"
"Oh, no. She dropped me off an hour ago." He can see the confusion on Harry and Ginny's faces. "She doesn't like… she doesn't like seeing other people. She worries about who she might meet." He can't help but catch the glance Harry and Ginny give each other, and suddenly wonders how normal it is.
In the end, the taxi slips through the traffic, and his grandmother has escaped Kings Cross before quarter past ten. Teddy meanders aimlessly through the station concourse, and gets himself a cappuccino and a magazine before making his way to Platform 9¾. He doesn't particularly enjoy cappuccinos, or indeed any type of coffee, but the idea of it seems somehow grown up. He's sixteen, and he feels he should start appreciating things like coffee and firewhiskey.
He shakes his hair from brown to turquoise as he steps through the barrier at Kings Cross. His natural hair colour had never failed to attract attention from Muggles, and only once he was safely ensconced in the wizarding world did he let it show.
The platform, as he expected, is deserted. The train has yet to arrive. Teddy slides his trunk from the trolley, and sits down on it, settling himself in for the wait. He sips tentatively at the cappuccino. It's not as bad as he thought it would be, so he takes another sip, before turning to the magazine. It's a Muggle music magazine; as he flicks through the pages, Teddy wonders idly if he can persuade his grandmother to let him have an electric guitar.
He's still reading ten minutes later when the next Hogwarts students appear through the barrier. He looks up, and does a double-take. Walking towards him are Ginny's nieces, Victoire and Dominique, pushing trolleys piled high with bags. Teddy can't help but notice how long, how thick Victoire's hair is. It cascades down her shoulders and her back, a cataract of dark red curls stark against her dark grey coat. Why hasn't he noticed it before now?
"Teddy!" Victoire exclaims, and he surfaces. "How are you? Did you have a good holiday?" Her voice, that faint trace of français lingering on every inflection, caresses his mind.
"Yes," he finally says. There is a flush rising to his cheeks. "Did you?"
"Of course," Victoire smiles.
"We went to visit Grandpére and Grandmére in Paris," Dominique pipes up, but Teddy hardly hears her, so fixed are his eyes on Victoire's face. He remembers the invitation which had been issued by Victoire's parents, for him to join them and the rest of the extended Weasley clan for a drinks party at Shell Cottage on New Year's Day. He'd said no, and now he wonders why.
"What's that you're reading?" Victoire asks, pointing to the magazine.
"Oh, nothing. Well, it's the NME," Teddy says, and she arches a delicate eyebrow.
"The NME?"
"A Muggle music magazine; but tt's not very interesting if you don't listen to the Muggle wireless."
"Hello, Teddy," another voice says, and he looks round to see Mr Weasley smiling at him. Even though he's never known him without them, Teddy doesn't think he'll ever get used to the scars on Bill Weasley's face, the scars which mark him as having fought in the Second War. His wife, Victoire's mother, is nearby, fussing over Dominique's hair. "Did you have a good holiday?"
"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry I couldn't make it to your drinks party."
"Never mind. There's always next year," Bill says jovially. "How are your studies going?"
"Well, thank you."
"And I hear you're playing Quidditch for Gryffindor now. Victoire tells me you're quite the Chaser!" Teddy is definitely blushing now.
"She's… she's too kind."
It is all too soon when the train arrives, and Teddy climbs slowly up into the front carriage. He always sits there, saving a compartment for his friends who will come and join him later. He puts his luggage away, and returns to his copy of the NME, but before five minutes have passed, there is a soft knock at the door.
"Hello, Teddy."
He can barely believe it. There at the door is Victoire, smiling at him. "Hi," he replies, not entirely sure what to say to this vision.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" Victoire asks, and it's all Teddy can do to stop himself asking if she's being serious.
"Of course not." Teddy puts down his magazine as Victoire slips in and sits down opposite him, crossing her legs neatly and smoothing down her skirt.
"Tell me all about what you did for Christmas," she says quietly. And so Teddy tells her, about how he went to the Potters for dinner and talked about his father, properly, for the first time; and about Christmas Eve in the East End with his father's family, drinking mulled wine and eating mince pies; about Christmas Day, alone with his grandmother, and suddenly time is passing faster and faster, and all he knows is that the girl sitting in front of him is the most beautiful, bewitching creature he's ever laid eyes on.
And Victoire Weasley questions him delicately, gently, and so easily that before he knows it she's getting to her feet; the train is at Hogsmeade station and the time has come to return to the castle perched on the cliff above the lake. As Victoire places her delicate hand in his for him to help her down from the train, he never wants to let it go.