a/n: yay! A new chapter!

Pairing: MollyTeddy

Word Count: 2038

She said what are you waiting for, kiss her, kiss her

I said my clock's early because I know I'm always late.

-A Little Less Sixteen Candles, Fall Out Boy

give and take, bend and break

"Moll," he whispered, caressing her name with his lips. She blinked back tears, her eyes turning glossy.

"Don't 'Moll' me, Teddy" she said, her voice harder than she meant it to be. Just to back up her words, she tilted her chin up and pursed her lips, just like he knew she always did when she was trying to appear tough.

"Moll," he tried again. Her throat constricted and she found herself unable to respond. He mistook her silence for permission to continue, "you know I love you, but,"

That 'but' made her eyes widen so much that he had to take a step back, momentarily scared that she'd physically try to hurt him. It was almost funny, really, as she was an imposing figure, even though she only stood a little over one and a half meters tall and weighed less than 45 kg. But she was still dangerous looking, with ebony hair and ebony eye liner and ebony clothing and an ebony attitude to match, though he knew the last was just a cover.

"But what?" She hissed. All the tears evaporated in an instant, leaving her just angry. He understood her anger, what he was saying seemed selfish, but she was just too young to understand that it was what was best for her.

"But we can't do this," he finished.

"Yes we can," she snapped, forcing her chin even higher with defiance, "we can do this, or we could, but you're just too much of a damn coward."

"You know that's not true," he tried to persuade her, his voice soft. But the words sounded weak to his ears and he knew that she was right. That he was too much of a coward to try to make their imperfect love last past all the obstacles he knew they'd have to face. Because she may be Molly, girl of leather and studs and a tough exterior, but she wasn't as different from Lily as she liked to pretend; she still believed in happy endings and love conquering all, even if she would never admit it. And he had just lived too long to have faith that it'd end up like she imagined. So maybe he was a coward, but he was a wise one, one who wouldn't let themselves fall in love with a girl who would just bring eventual pain.

There lay the problem, though, the flaw in his plan: no matter how much he refused to let himself fall in love with Molly, he still did. She just wasn't allowed to know that, because she'd abuse that and use that as a way to crack him open and worm her way even farther into his heart. His plan had been to keep her at arms' length, but she kept creeping closer.

"Coward," she muttered.

"I'm not-" he tried, but he stopped himself before saying anymore because he didn't think he could handle telling her any more lies.

"Whatever Teddy," she rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. He was impressed, almost, at how quickly she recovered from this huge blow. If not for the single line of black that trailed down her face from when her façade momentarily slipped, he would never know that she was upset. But she was, because she never cried, not ever, and the evidence of a tear adorned her fair cheek.

"Moll," he whispered, but he had no more to say, and she knew it. She turned and walked away and he could have sworn that he heard the sound of his heart ripping in half.

She never grieved in public. Never. Not even when her grandmother and namesake passed away, she still acted just like how she always did the next day. She just let the wound fester inside her mind, keeping her awake at night. And so nobody noticed. The dark rings from the sleepless nights were easily covered with more white powder every morning before she drew thick black lines of kohl around her bright blue eyes. Her lips, painted a startling red every day, never once quivered. She was proud of that; of what she thought was courage that kept her chin up even when she felt like she was breaking in half.

And she felt like she was breaking in half all the time. Every moment of every day she felt like there was a weight on her shoulders, pressing her into the ground. She resisted, which was more than what could be said for him. He was always the weaker of the pair, and was crushed flat by the parting.

Nobody saw anything of him for weeks, he just hid in his flat eating and sleeping and grieving his own cowardice. He dreamt she was there every night, and in his dreams he was able to tell her all those things he never had the courage to when he was awake: that he loved her, that he missed her, that she meant the world to him. In his dreams he always followed the statement, spoken firmly and without a care to what troubles would be in store for the couple, with a kiss. He could imagine her lips pressed against his, her perfect, red, plush lips covering his own with passion and hunger that went back as long as she had been alive, really.

But he couldn't hide forever, try as he might. One day, a month after the two parted, his best friend showed up on his doorstep and forced entrance into the apartment.

"What are you doing here, Lily?" He asked tiredly. He was exhausted. He hadn't done anything, and the weight of this failure along with the bigger failures of his life made him just want to curl up and sleep.

"You're pathetic." She announced. And it was true, he knew, glancing down at his own form. He was disgusting. He couldn't remember the last time he showered, or went outside, or even changed his clothing. He was rotting away in his own body, powerless to stop the decay because he just didn't have the strength to go on living without her.

"And?" He looked at her, hoping she'd either get to the point or leave him alone. He wanted to sleep. Sleep was a good escape, he found, he could dream about Molly and she'd be there and actually want to see him.

"Well," she began with that Slytherin sneer of hers, "are you just going to sit here, or are you going to win her back?" Without even asking permission, she moved into his kitchen and busied herself tidying it up. Dishes stacked precariously high were piled all around in the small space, exploding out of the sink in a mess of left over food and drink.

"And how do you propose I do that?" He questioned, still hoping she'd leave. He really needed to sleep.

"Get your life back together. This hiding is exactly why you two aren't dating. Because you're a coward, and at the moment, a disgusting coward. When was the last time you showered?"

"Don't know," he mumbled, sulking under her intense gaze.

"Well off with you then!" She practically yelled. He slinked to the small bathroom and started the water. Once she was satisfied that he was actively cleaning himself, she stuck her head in the door. "I'm going to wash your clothing. It's gross. There's some nice, clean, trousers and shirt folded over here for when you get out."

"Lily!" He shrieked, almost girlishly, "what if I hadn't been behind the curtain? You would've seen me naked!"

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes, "like I've never seen a naked boy before. You've got to be kidding me. Besides, you're like my brother." And with that she shut the bathroom door and went back to tidying up the small living space that he had so dirtied during his period of isolation.

After a few more minutes he stepped out, dressed in the clothing she had set aside. "Looking good," she told him with a smile. He gave her a small grin back, and it wasn't much but it was genuine.

"Thanks," he said honestly, glancing around the now clean space, "for the cleaning and the kick in the ass to get back to living."

"It's what I'm here for," she replied, giving him a peck on the cheek, "now, are you just going to let her get away, or are you going to win her back?"

"Do I have to answer that?" he groaned, half anxious to see Molly's face again, and half filled with dread.

"No. I know the answer. You're going to win her back, so let's get going." And she practically dragged him to the door. He muttered something about intimidating Weasley girls, which she chose to ignore.

The pair apparated to the Burrow, where a family dinner was taking place. Teddy had gotten an owl with an invite, but he had been moping around too much to even consider going.

"Teddy," Harry said with a welcoming smile, "good to see you." Ginny rushed to him, arms out for a hug.

"We've missed you," she told him. He hugged her back tightly, unexpectedly glad to see her motherly face.

"And I've missed you," he said honestly, "all of you," he added, surveying the large gathering of Weasley-Potters lounging on every available surface for sitting.

The clan responded with various "missed you, too"s coming from every direction. Ginny ushered Teddy over to an open chair.

"Anything I can get you, dear?" she asked. He shook his head no.

She was standing in the corner, dressed in the all black that she always wore. The shadows fell over her face, and he wouldn't have seen her except for the fact that to him, she always shone. Not a flicker of an expression passed over her pale face, and he found his heart sinking with disappointment at the lack of reaction.

Dinner was the loud family affair it always is when everyone is seated at one table. Or rather, four tables pushed together and magically stretched to accommodate everyone. He listened to old stories being repeated, laughed at the old jokes being told, and shared the same old tricks of manipulating his features with all the amused members of the group. Finally, though, the food was done being served and the family split into smaller groups to have hushed conversations. Hugo, Lucy, and James went to the table before the fire to play cards; Ginny, Harry, Hermione, and Ron reminisced quietly about their youth; Rose and Scorpius earned a seething glare from Ron as the two linked hands and giggled their way up the stairs to Rose's bedroom. Lily gave Teddy a pointed glare and he sighed defeat.

"Can we talk?" He quietly asked, staring into those familiar blue eyes that never failed to enchant him.

"Fine," she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Somewhere more private?" He questioned, slowly maneuvering the pair out of the kitchen doors to the large expanse of the back yard.

She was silent as the walked, turning her face down to the lush green grass.

"Moll," he finally said, his voiced hushed. She stiffened at the familiar nickname, "I missed you."

"It was your choice to go," she snapped.

He took a deep breath and reached out a calloused hand to tilt her chin up. "I made a mistake," he said simply, and then pressed his lips to hers.

It was everything he imagined it would be. She put her hand on his chest in a half-hearted attempt to push him away, before just relaxing into it. Her body fit against his perfectly.

"Moll," he said after they broke apart, "I love you."

She gazed up at him, her eyes wide with the innocence that he loved, "no buts?" she asked. In that moment she seemed vulnerable, more fragile than he could ever remember seeing her be before.

"No buts." He confirmed.

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