Thanks for all your feedback! Hopefully you guys will like this chapter. :) If you like it, hate it, anything - I'd love to hear from you, all your reviews mean to much to me. But without further ado, here is chapter two! (A poet and I didn't even- I can't do that to you. I can't.)
Warning: There is a little more profanity in this chapter; not sure if that bothers people but the warning is out there just in case.
Summary: All Teddy Lupin ever wanted to do was make it out of Hogwarts alive, keeping his untouched record within the central Hogwarts gossip chain just that - untouched. But with a girlfriend determined to climb the social ladder, a godfather trying to control his life and several Gryffindors out to destroy him, his seventh year is about to get ugly. And all because of that stupid bathroom.
"Since writing on toilet walls is done neither for critical acclaim nor financial gain, it could be considered the purest form of art. Discuss."
Art? You laugh - you can't help it.
If you walk along the second floor corridor, turn left, then right, then left again then you'll find yourself at a door. Boys, do not be alarmed by the sign that says 'Girls Only', no one really pays attention to that in this case. Open the door. Walk past the faucets, down the tiled floor until you reach the cubicles, it's the third one on the right that you're looking for. You open the door and step inside. You feel guilty for being here, you almost don't want to look - but it's impossible for you to resist the temptation of the cubicle with the power to crumble someone's reputation. One door, three walls. You pray to Merlin that you won't see your name, and find yourself relieved when the most recently added writing has nothing to do with you;
#2: Cassadee Brenup wears a thong to History of Magic. Trying to catch the attention of a certain Professor, weirdo?
Chapter Two: Hurling Hippogriff Feathers
I never meant to write everything down like this – truthfully, I never expected to remember events in such excruciating detail, but these past twenty-four hours in solitary confinement were far too much time to simply sit and do nothing. Or even think. I didn't particularly enjoy the notion of having to think over the last seven months, my train wreck of a seventh year, especially since retrospective narrative has never been one of my strong suits. Still, you've had your introduction, and now it's time to get down to business. I'll try and help you out where I can, highlight important points of the story you might need for later, but ultimately my best advice for now is to read, lie back and think of England. I know that's what I do.
Where did I finish last time? Oh, that's right. 12th December, 2016. Alice Finch-Fletchly had just handed me a note that had the bottom of my stomach twisting in the middle of History of Magic, and all thoughts of my catching up on some lost sleep were completely gone as my gaze was drawn to my girlfriend sitting upright at her desk by the window, diligently taking notes as if Briddle the Brave was giving her the account of his life himself, instead of it falling so dully from the mouth of our dead teacher.
The thing that irked me the most was that she knew what kind of effect her note would have. I was busy wracking my brains trying to come up with what possibly I could've done wrong to warrant the impersonal tone of the note, and irritated me that she just ignored the looks I was sending her. Elena Hewitt liked to play games, and I always ended up going along with it. The thing was, she always won. I'd resigned myself to my fate before I'd even left the classroom.
"Hey, Elle –" I caught her arm as she made to leave, and she gave me a dazzling smile that I didn't believe for a second. She made a show of kissing me on the cheek and walking away before I could get another word in, and I sighed. Merlin only knew I had no idea what to do with this girl.
Guy was just leaving the classroom himself, Cassadee Brenup on his arm and him nodding along with whatever she was saying as if she were the most enthralling person in the world, but it didn't take a genius to work out that it was a ruse. Guy Fitzburton liked to have sex, and he was also very good at playing with his food.
"Guy, can I talk to you for a second?" I asked, throwing a look at Cassadee that told her she clearly wasn't invited into the conversation. She detangled her arm from Guy's and gave him a small smile, promising to talk to him later. Guy didn't return the sentiment as he spotted something distasteful near the hem of her very short skirt as she walked away. He grimaced. I didn't even want to know what he'd seen.
Straightening his jacket, he fell into step beside me. "What can I do for you, Edward?"
"I was wondering if you if anything was up with Elle," I began, and his expression already turned sour. He hated being caught up in what he liked to call 'domestics' between Elle and myself, but he at least gave marginally better advice than Lawrence. "It's just she's sent me a cryptic note again saying she wants to meet, and she wouldn't talk to me and I'm worried."
Guy was lazy in his response. "And you're sure it's not some kind of booty call?"
"That's what girls give you Guy, not me. And besides, you know Elle and I haven't..." I trailed off.
A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Locked things down?"
"Don't be crass."
"Don't be a prude. Am I the only one who finds it slightly disturbing that the closest you two have gotten was in a classroom while McGonagall was around the corner? There are treatments for that kind of thing."
I sighed. It was a little stupid of me to assume I'd get anything useful out of him, but he seemed to sense my frustration.
"I haven't heard anything from her, no," he supplied, sobering up for a moment. "She's probably just annoyed you didn't coordinate what colour socks you're wearing today to go with her bracelet, I really wouldn't worry yourself."
I wasn't so convinced. Although calling me out on petty things was definitely a favourite past-time for Elle. "You reckon?"
"I'm certain," Guy pressed as we headed down to the Great Hall for lunch. "As much as it baffles me, you two always seem to work things out. So don't worry about it." I did my best to believe him, and lunch was a much more appealing idea than thinking about arguing with Elle so I settled down at the Hufflepuff table and decided to just tuck in and forget about it until this evening. Unsurprisingly, she was nowhere to be seen.
It wasn't often that post was delivered at lunchtime, so it was mildly embarrassing to have everyone stare at the familiar barn owl that screeched into the Hall in the middle of my Quiche Lorraine, and when he dropped a letter in front of me and nipped on my ear for a scrap of food, I begrudgingly let him at the remainders of my dish. I wasn't that hungry anyway.
"We've got to work on that screeching thing," I told the owl as I opened the letter. "It's unbecoming." As an afterthought; "Unless you learn to screech that new Bubble Cauldron song, in which case I could probably forgive you."
I pulled the letter out of the envelope and scanned it, my eyes widening when I realised who was writing.
Teddy,
I realise it's been a while since I've gotten the chance to write, and for that I really am sorry! Work's been piling down here in the MLE, but Ginny tells me you've been doing well at school regardless of whether I check up on you or not. How are you? What've you been up to recently? I know in your last letter you mentioned a couple of side projects for Transfiguration – how did you get on with those? Ginny also tells me you're still with Elle, which is fantastic to hear. She's a really charming girl, that. So genuine—
I snorted.
—you're very lucky. Give her my best.
In regards to your Grandmother, she's doing very well. Yesterday I sat in on her session with Dr. Richmond, and he tells me she's been making some fantastic progress. She's been asking about you, and can't wait to have you home for Christmas. Neither can I, to be perfectly honest, but I wouldn't begrudge you your last Christmas at Hogwarts. Will you be staying with us again this year? You know we'd love to have you, and James simply adores you so we'd be honoured if you'd consider it.
Now don't hate me for this – but the deadline was closing in here at the MLE for taking on next summer's round of internships, and I know we haven't really discussed it but I took the liberty of entering in an application for you. I'm not trying to make you come here, I promise, but the Magical Law Enforcement Department is a very popular one, and I wanted to make sure all your options were kept firmly open. And I know you hate thinking about the future, but time is running out Ted. At least give it some thought.
All my love,
Harry.
His neat signature decorated the bottom of the page and I let out a frustrated sigh as I folded the letter back up and stuffed it into the envelope.
"You okay Ted?" Lawrence asked, as he slid into the seat opposite me.
"Harry again. Always future future future. I've got time, haven't I? And I definitely don't want to head into his bloody department at the Ministry."
Guy raised a questioning brow. "He's Head Auror, isn't he? What did the MLE ever do to you?"
"Nothing, it's just," I shifted uncomfortably. "I've spent the majority of my school life trying my very best not to be referred to as Harry's Godson. If I spend the rest of my life working under him, it's like signing off everything I've tried to build for myself."
Guy smirked. "Now see, that's where you and I will never see eye to eye. I just love using my mother's reputation to my own advantage."
"She's Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic," Lawrence raised an eyebrow. "That's a great thing to throw around."
"And Head Auror isn't?" Guy countered. "Look, Edward – you're making too much out of this. You're blessed enough to have been given a head start in the Wizarding world. Use it."
I grumbled. "I've always hated playing dirty." Perhaps my reaction wouldn't have been quite so anti-Harry if he hadn't been pressing the issue for months already. Admittedly I'd been a little vague about what I wanted to do with my future, but just because I didn't have a clear idea didn't mean I was totally clueless. I wanted to make something out of myself, something out of the Lupin name, so everyone wouldn't instantly associate it with "war hero" or "werewolf", or even "Harry Potter". I could understand my Godfather's concern, but it was completely unfounded and his desire to kick me into gear only served in giving me more of a reason not to even think about it.
"Sounds to me like a classic case of Daddy-knows-best," Kirsty remarked as she threw a fish to a Hippogriff in Care of Magical Creatures later that day. We'd been building up relationships with the majestic animals for weeks, and Professor Farquhar seemed to be hinting at the idea that we might get to ride them any day now, something that made me feel a little ill to my stomach. Sure, it sounded great on paper, but these things were dangerous.
I dug into my own bucket for a fish. "Oh, he's not – Harry's not my dad," I flushed, slightly embarrassed. She was a muggleborn and she was new, I reminded myself, and I couldn't expect her to instantaneously know everything about Harry Potter and his relationship to me, and especially not my dead parents.
She sensed my embarrassment, thankfully. "Oh, sorry, I just assumed –"
"It's fine," I pressed, throwing the fish and watching as my Hippogriff, Dartagne, caught it in his beak with a sickening crack. "Yuck."
"Either way," Kirsty continued, clearing her throat to recover from the brief bout of awkwardness. "He sounds like a pretty successful man, right?"
I snorted. "Putting it mildly." Survived the killing curse, defeated a Dark Lord, married with three kids. Just your average success story.
"So he probably just wants the same for you, and he's recommending it the only way he knows how – through his own job."
I pondered this for a minute, wondering if there was an element of truth to what she was saying. "I guess that makes sense," it was certainly different from whatever had come spewing from Guy's mouth. It was nice to get a refreshing, outsider's point of view rather than rehashing the same conversations with Guy and Lawrence that I'd been having for years already. There were some things the three of us weren't destined to agree with each other about – money, adulthood and sense of style. And that was something that didn't change after seventh year was over, either, let me assure you.
Kirsty was easy to talk to, and although there were a lot of things we still didn't exactly see eye to eye over (like just how high maintenance being at Hogwarts was, despite how all the evidence should suggest to the contrary) there was something distinctly relaxing about dropping all the carefully built walls of social etiquette of the last six years. Until I no longer had to worry about who might be watching me and spreading rumours about me, I didn't realise how much effort I put into trying to maintain a flawless persona, and how much I was restricting my own freedom. Honestly, I just found myself caring less. And I liked it.
Lost in my thoughts I didn't realise Kirsty had become involved in a stare off with Dartagne, who had long since lost interest in me since I stopped feeding him fish. I could tell their eyes had been locked on each other's for a while, and the flare in Dartagne's nostrils told me he wasn't going to back down – and if Kristy looked away now, she could be in for a nasty surprise for her defiance of Dartagne this long. It was a stalemate.
"Kirsty," I warned, and she gave me an almost imperceptible nod of her head.
"I know. Could you, um, get Professor Farquhar please?" Her voice had dropped to a low note, and I could tell her resolve was weakening. In my eagerness to get hold of the Professor so he could pull Dartagne from the standoff, I tripped and dropped my bucket, fish falling everywhere and the loud clang of metal on stone startling the animal.
With a screech, Dartagne reared up and flapped his wings madly, ready to come down and attack Kirsty who had stumbled backwards into a ball on the floor, holding up an arm to protect herself from the impact that never came. Not after my bucket collided with his face, anyway.
"Watch it, feathers!" I hollered, trying to draw his attention away from Kirsty. Disorientated, Dartagne shook his head from side to side and his muscles rippled, something I became acutely aware of as he turned to face me, a growl reverberating at the bottom of his throat. "Shit."
Bracing myself for talons or hooves or even a sodding beak I couldn't be more surprised when all I heard was a scuffle, a squawk and the sound of heavy hoof beats on the ground. I peaked open one eye to try and work out why I wasn't mauled on the floor, when I saw Dartagne, muzzled (and by the look on his face, humiliated) and held in place by a chain attached to his neck. Professor Farquhar stood holding the other end looking at me sternly.
He cleared his throat. "Mr. Lupin – might I suggest, for the sake of your life if not your NEWT, that you avoid throwing steel objects at my hippogriffs?"
I gaped open-mouthed, aware that the rest of the class were now spying on the proceedings, but my heart was still racing and I could feel my limbs trembling with relief that forming words didn't exactly come easy. "Uh, yes sir," I stuttered, and he seemed to sympathize.
"I'll go take Dartagne somewhere to cool down," he stroked the neck of the animal slowly, and this was the point I realised he must be some kind of animal whisperer, because that thing had been ready to maul both Kirsty and I only moments ago, and now he was allowing himself to be soothed, even while being muzzled. "I suggest you and Miss Tinner do the same. Take the rest of the lesson off, I'll see you tomorrow." Making a clicking noise with his tongue he tugged the hippogriff after him and headed for the edge of the forest.
The rest of the class, all seemingly silent, and the rest of the hippogriffs all sat grazing as if nothing had happened, and I found once again that I hated being the centre of attention. Heading over to Kirsty I held out my hands and helped her to her feet, and I could tell she was shaking just as much as I was.
"Close one, huh?" I forced a laugh. "Farquhar says we get the rest of the lesson off."
She managed a weak smile. "Lucky us."
"What happened?" I asked, referring to her standoff with Dartagne.
"I don't know," she answered honestly, shrugging her shoulders. "We've been working with them for so long now, I got comfortable. I guess I got a little cocky –" She threw a look down to where Professor Farquhar was calming the agitated creature. "And Dartagne didn't like that." I could feel her tremble again and felt like keeping her standing on the grounds with many more of the same animal wasn't exactly good for her psyche.
I put an arm around her shoulders to help support her and led her away from the prying eyes of the seventh year class, who dispersed to go back to their own work with their respective hippogriffs. In the end I didn't know what else to do, so I simply took her to a deserted Greenhouse to cool off – a little reminiscent of the day we first met and I managed to drag her all the way out here just so she wouldn't sit in the wrong place. After a few weeks spent listening to how silly we were all being, I could scarcely remember why it was so important that she not sit at the fountain where the Hufflepuffs sat. Who cares? It was a bunch of trivial nonsense, and it was getting boring.
Taking her cloak off because of the humidity, Kirsty sat down on the steps leading to the higher level.
"Thanks," she offered after a few minute's silence. "For throwing that bucket."
I grinned. "If I'd had another missile to hand, I would've used one that ended up with less fish gunk over my arms." I gestured to my already discarded cloak with a suspicious smell rising from it.
"It was effective," she said.
"That's one way of putting it."
"In any case," she pressed. "Thanks. Now I don't want to owe you anything, so I'll just do your Charms homework for the next few weeks and we'll call it quits, okay?"
I laughed outright. "Okay." After a few minutes we managed to ease into idle chatter, and I like to think I managed to take her mind off her near-injury-experience, but time was ticking by. I liked to make sure I was a reasonably upstanding student, and that usually meant turning up to classes on time. While having the rest of the lesson off for Care of Magical Creatures, that didn't mean I was free for the rest of the day, but Kirsty didn't seem keen on me leaving.
After reminding her I had Ancient Runes and getting to my feet she bit her lip, and seemed like she wanted to say something but didn't. Something clenched inside my chest as I realised how shaken up she still looked, and I deliberated for a few moments. I should go to class, I really should, but my inner chivalrous Gryffindor seemed to want to take over and my significantly larger inner Hufflepuff was all for sharing the love and doing mediocre in all my academics.
I sighed, already resigned to my decision as I sat back down. It was only Ancient Runes after all, and it was worth it to see Kirsty's face light up. Little did I know that that would be the start of one long, downward spiralling road – it was only Ancient Runes then, it was only one hour out of my education that I would miss, but it had more of a knock on effect on me than I would come to realise for a long time. But at the time, I wasn't concerned about that. I had a friend in need and that was what was most important. To this day I don't regret it, and given the chance I would do it all over again, but retrospect lets you see how things started and that's a gift I wouldn't want to lose.
"You do realise now you'll have to do my Charms and my Ancient Runes homework?"
"I don't take Ancient Runes!"
"Better start learning, then."
Half past five came earlier than I would've liked, and as I jogged up the stairs from the Dungeons (that's where the Hufflepuff common room is, but you didn't hear it from me) I couldn't help but feel like I was heading straight to my own funeral. Elle hadn't breathed a word to me all day – during break time at the fountain even while I diligently sat next to her as I knew I should, she was too busy completely enraptured by whatever she and Alice Finch-Fletchly were talking about. Guy was away doing... quite likely something disgusting that I didn't want to know, and Lawrence had been playing absentee a lot recently so I was left to pick at my scarf and pretend to be interested in the ladybug ambling across the top of the stone hippogriff's head. I almost envy insects and their intelligence-less existence.
I entered the Entrance Hall hesitantly, nerves crawling around my stomach when I didn't see Elle immediately, but decided that might be for the best. Urgent matters to discuss. What was that even supposed to mean? Normally if she wanted to talk to me about something she'd just do it; she's had no problem in the past. Not to mention if she were trying to hook me for some kind of – how did Guy put it? – booty call, she didn't need all the cryptic messages. No, I knew Elle far too well for this to be anything but bad news, and it was only now rocking me to my core just what she wanted to talk to me about.
Just as I was ambling absently around the Entrance Hall, heading to the steps that led up to the rest of the castle, I spotted someone huddled in the corner just at the back of the staircase. Half hoping and half dreading that it might be Elle I made my way over, surprised when I heard before I saw their body racked with sobs. It wasn't Elle, but it was a girl I'd already half-spoken to today.
"Cassadee?" I asked tentatively, not wanting to startle her. She lifted a tear-stained face to me and quickly tried to wipe her eyes. I found it hard to believe that any amount of rubbing could alleviate the mascara-coloured tear tracks, but I let her believe it was working. "Are you okay?"
She sniffled loudly in answer, and I immediately felt silly for asking. I stood there awkwardly hovering for a few moments, not quite sure what I was supposed to do, and it was clear she'd probably prefer to be alone. We may not be friends, and I may barely know her, but no one deserved to be upset like this. It was that inner Hufflepuff in me I was talking about. Offering her the smallest of affectionate touches on her shoulder, I turned to leave, so it surprised me when she actually did speak up.
"Your friend Guy is a jerk."
Somehow, I wasn't surprised this was the problem.
I offered her a rueful smile. "I know." I did. I did know. I didn't even need to ask what he'd done, or what he hadn't done, because I'd heard it all before. Guy could be poison when he wanted to be, and the worst thing was that he hardly cared when he was and when he wasn't. Other people's feelings never entered the equation, hell; they probably never even entered his mind.
She frowned at my simple acceptance, and I wondered if she'd been expecting me to defend him. "Then why do you hang out with him?"
At times like this, I didn't know. When I was faced with the cold hard reminder of how wicked and heartless he could be, I didn't want to – I didn't want to be around him. So I simply remained silent, unsure of what I should say. Because sometimes; in the briefest, fleeting moments, Guy became a real person. But I could hardly say that, could I?
I simply shrugged, and she scoffed at me before turning to wipe her eyes some more. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but I felt like by not instantly agreeing her and admitting that at times I enjoyed his company I'd taken away that right. Luckily, or unluckily as one might say, I was torn from my indecision by a voice calling my name from the foot of the steps. Turning around I spotted Elle, her expression blank and still looking stunning in a simple jumper and pleated skirt. I couldn't help it – she always completely took my breath away. With a final look at Cassadee I took off after my girlfriend, following where she beckoned until she led me off into one of the odd side rooms in the Entrance Hall I always felt held no real purpose.
I cleared my throat as we walked in silence; she seemed to be deep in thought and I was reluctant to disturb her, but I was sure my hair turning a fierce shade of green gave away my embarrassment (as if I wasn't an open book enough). She looked up at me as it did so, and eyed it with what I could only tell as being an affectionate smile dancing across her mouth, and it comforted me. She may not have meant it that way, but it did.
"Should I be worried?" I asked, trying to keep the mood light.
She didn't reply straight away, merely fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "You're probably wondering why I –"
"Can we just," I cut across her, feeling heavy all of a sudden. "Not just dance around it?" I took one of her hands in my own and she let me, even opting to lace her fingers with mine. It looked like what she was saying was difficult for her to get out.
"People have been talking," she began hesitantly, as if trying to decide the best way to go about this.
"About what?"
"You. And Kirsty Tinner."
Suddenly, the reason for me being there hit me like a ton of bricks. I wondered why I hadn't been expecting this encounter for weeks now, with my newfound friend definitely being the source of numerous rumours at her lack of etiquette. I hated it, but I wasn't sure how I should be reacting to this. Elle, my Elle, was looking unsure of herself and that in itself was so astounding that I didn't know what to do.
"What have they been saying?" I managed to get out.
Elle bit her lip and refused to look at me. "That you two are..."
"Are?" I prompted, trying to keep the bite from my tone. She didn't honestly believe them, did she?
She detected the ice behind the prompt and finally looked me in the eye, a steely stare settling there. "Carrying on behind my back." I almost laughed at her choice of language, but quite frankly I was getting a little irritated. I'd been dating this girl for eighteen months – it wasn't the first time I'd been falsely accused of cheating on her and it wouldn't be the last, I didn't understand why she was letting herself be bothered by it this time.
I scoffed. "You don't honestly believe them, do you Elle?" A flicker of uncertainty passed over her eyes and I was so dumbfounded to see it there I had no idea what to say. "Elle?" I pressed, flabbergasted.
"I don't know what to think," she replied hotly, finally pulling her hand from mine and stepping back a few paces. "At first I just thought it was Jessica Burke all over again, but this is – this is different."
"How?"
"Teddy, please. Don't get angry at me. You have been spending a lot of time with her, and I heard about your gallant knight-like rescue of her in Care of Magical Creatures this morning."
I threw up my hands in frustration. There was only one way she would've heard about that – those bloody Walls. That stupid, stupid bathroom.
"I would've done that for anyone and you know that," I protested.
She carried on as if I'd said nothing. "And you then spent the next two hours in one of the Greenhouses together. Alone." I could sense the waver in her voice and realised that perhaps she wasn't angry, and she needed reassurance. Knock me down and call me Malfoy, but Elena Hewitt was jealous.
"Elle," I touched a hand to her shoulder. "Nothing's going on, I promise you. Kirsty and I are just friends. She's new and I'm helping her out." She closed her eyes, considering my words, but I watched as one of her hands clenched into a fist and unclenched, and she dropped her head.
"Regardless," she began, but that threw me as it was. Regardless? Did my word mean nothing to her? Her voice was slow as she spoke, as if every word was like pulling teeth, but I was completely dumbfounded. "People are talking, Teddy. They expect me to do something."
I blinked. "Like what?"
She lifted her gaze to mine, and I understood. There was pain in her eyes, but I didn't see it.
She was breaking up with me.
"You're joking, right?" I got out, dread shooting through me and tugging at my heartstrings.
She shook her head. "Merlin knows I don't want to Teddy, I love you, but I can't just sit around and be laughed at like the scorned wife. I have to have respect if I have nothing else." I couldn't believe it – I just couldn't believe it. "If you stopped hanging out with her, just for a while," she pleaded, a lilt of hope in her tone. "Then I wouldn't have to do it."
I didn't say anything.
"Teddy?"
"I can't," I muttered. "She's my friend. It's like asking me to stop hanging out with Lawrence or Guy." I was pleading with her now, she needed to understand. She didn't need to break up with me over this, it was ridiculous – pure speculation and rumours, she couldn't do it just to save face.
She didn't speak for the longest time, and neither did I, simply stared at my shoes and wondered what the hell I'd done to deserve this.
"I'm not saying this is over," she began again, and I could tell from her tone she was trying to give me a compromise. "Just a break for a little while – until after Christmas. Then everyone will stop talking and we can just be us again." She took my hand and played with my fingers, but somehow I wasn't comforted by any of it. "Okay?" I could tell she was looking at me, but I wasn't sure I could look back at her. I suddenly felt very tired, as if I'd been awake for hours. I just wanted to get out of that room.
"Okay."
It felt like I was signing my own death warrant.
She gave my hand a final squeeze. "I'm sorry," she said, standing on her tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek. I didn't try and stop her, but I didn't return the gesture.
"I love you," I whispered, and I hated how weak I sounded. She seemed to understand that I didn't want her to say anything else, and all I heard was the receding sound of her shoes upon the flagstones as she left the room.
I wandered the hallways for a while after that, not really feeling like returning to the ever cheerful Hufflepuff Common Room, where I knew Guy would be waiting to grill me for details of what happened in my encounter with Elle. Merlin knew she'd act as if nothing had happened, potentially even spin it in a way that made it look like she was doing the right thing because I was cheating on her, but all thoughts about the last hour depressed me so much that I avoided them as much as I could. Subconsciously I wound up on the seventh floor, and thank goodness someone recognised me stumbling around like a lost puppy, and before I knew it I'd spotted someone stepping out of the Fat Lady portrait that I recognised. Perhaps the one person I really wanted to see.
Victoire Weasley.
"Teddy?" She asked, concern immediately evident on her face. "Are you okay?" I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came out. I tried my very best to vocalize everything but it were as if my throat was ice. Without another word she pulled me from the main corridor and behind a tapestry, away from prying eyes. "Tell me what happened." It wasn't a question, but an order.
Victoire. Victoire. She was my fucking world.
Before I knew it words were tumbling from my mouth and I could feel my sadness and my anger with each breath, but it almost felt like an out of body experience. I watched myself relay it all to her; Elle had broken up with me because she didn't want to look weak. She had her precious reputation to think of, and that was why I was in a crumpled heap on the floor of some passageway. When I'd finished, she didn't even say anything. She simply drew me into a large hug and I let her, not sure if I particularly wanted her to say anything.
Everything sucked.
But Victoire was there, so I suppose it wasn't all bad. I think all along I'd gone looking for her first, even if I hadn't been aware of it – how I'd managed to walk myself up seven flights of stairs without even noticing until she popped up right in front of me was completely beyond my understanding, but she was there and I needed to rely on her for just a little time.
I was always leaning on her; I was always a burden to her. When Guy was busy brooding and Lawrence wasn't in the mood for a serious conversation, she was the person I could talk to. Age set us apart in so many ways, but never in understanding – she'd known me for so many years now, and she just understood me. I liked to think I understood her too, but sometimes I wonder if that was just something I told myself back then to make me feel better. I opened myself up to her countless times when I was in trouble, and I could scarcely name an occasion when she'd done the same for me. Back then, as I sat there in her arms on some stupid corridor floor, I'd assumed that was because she had never needed me in the same way. Now I know how stupid I was.
Naive, and so selfishly ignorant.
What mattered to me at that moment was that she was there, and when I finally felt like I was ready to speak she steered the topic onto completely nonsensical things. Cheese sandwiches, and shoes. Riddles, goblins, books and stained glass windows. Silly things; but it helped.
Eventually she was walking me back down to the Hufflepuff Common Room, her arm around my waist and mine around her shoulders, and while I felt slightly better I was still so heavy I felt like I would collapse. She seemed to sense this, and sent for my friends as we waited outside the stack of barrels that comprised of the entrance.
For a moment I couldn't say anything, but I squeezed her shoulder. "Thank you," I murmured. This was exactly what I'd needed. She was gentle and warm and absolutely everything I'd wanted her to be – I think she knew it, too.
"Any time, Teddy," she smiled, pushing some of her blonde hair from her eyes. "You can come talk to me any time, alright? I've missed you recently."
I nodded. There were too many people to split my time between these days. Guy, Lawrence. Kirsty. Victoire. Elle–
Guy crawled out the passageway and took one look at me, before he put his arm around my shoulders and I detached myself from Victoire. I spotted sympathy and warmth in his eyes I wasn't used to seeing, and it reminded me of all the reasons I couldn't think of earlier in response to Cassadee's question. He offered the Gryffindor a curt nod of thanks as we turned back to the common room.
"Come on, Edward," he sighed. "Let's get you drunk."
Clearly, when sporting a headache as severe as mine the next morning, it wasn't the best time to receive a surprise visit from my dear old Godfather.
Universe?
Fuck. Off.
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~MyWhitelighter