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hp_rarefestTitle: This One Goes Out To The One I Love
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
crazyparakiss
Prompt: Dominique is too big a flirt, too much a slacker, too selfish to ever compare favourably to her older sister, but she sees a vulnerability in Teddy that everyone else has overlooked.
Pairing(s): Teddy/Dominique, Teddy/Others (mentions), Dominique/Others (mentions), Albus Severus/Scorpius (side pairing, they are the sidekicks cause you know who can resist), most all canon pairings.
Word Count: 18.2k approx
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Het sex, mentions of slashy innuendo, random teenage angst, blatant abuse of flashbacks.
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: As usual I’ve played fast and loose with a prompt. But seriously in my heart of hearts Teddy/Dominique is one of my OTPs. Also all the love to my CURI OF WIN who beta’d this for me! And the title comes from an REM song but you knew that, right? :D
Summary: Dreaming or awake, we perceive only events that have meaning to us.
Teddy wakes to the sun streaming against his closed eyelids. He’s got a killer hang over. Al kept him out to celebrate the contract Scorpius negotiated for Oliver Wood with Nimbus Racing Broom Company; apparently in spring there will be Wood Brooms all over the sky. There is a joke in there somewhere, Teddy knows, he’s just much too hung over to chuckle about it at the moment.
He sits up and kicks at the sheets which feel leaden and the duvet isn’t much better. Feet on the chilly wooden floors; Teddy swears. In the bathroom he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His stubble is as bright as his hair, and just as teal in colour—he’s still not quite sure how all of his facial hair manages to grow the same as the colour he prefers to keep on his head. “Morning sexy,” he grumbles to himself as he reaches clumsily for his toothbrush.
The shower is fuck cold and he shouts when it hits him.
Al rings him on his Mobile Mirror when he’s rummaging through the cupboards, looking for something to eat and a potion to swish down for his headache.
“Ted,” Al whispers against the glass, fogging it over as is his usual way.
“Yes?”
“I’ll be able to come by and help you organise your band list for the week and you set a menu with Louis since we both know what a buggering diva he is when it comes to being right.” Teddy nearly snorts, but manages to refrain. Louis acts as if he’s cooking in some Michelin Three Star when in fact he’s “head chef” of the dodgy pub Teddy’s gran left him when she died—it had been a bit of a family thing. Something his dead mum and granddad had invested in shortly before war broke out and had to put on hold due to that war. Harry’d kept it up financially because his gran had asked and now their dream is his life. But it’s still not a Three Star Michelin as Louis’d like to believe.
“Not whisking off for your yearly honeymoon with the gilded Malfoy prince?”
“I heard that,” Scorpius’s smooth drawl causes Teddy to smile.
“No, we celebrated quite a bit last night, and this morning,” Al replies with a lewd grin and Teddy rolls his eyes. “We’re not heading out for another week, if at all, Scorpius has another Quidditch contract to negotiate. Carol Hayes is supposed to re-sign with the Harpies but they’re trying to give her half of what she’s worth. If they don’t watch it the Foul Mouth’s will have her before Christmas.”
“What a lovely gift that’ll be.”
“James’ll definitely be full of malicious glee if that happens.”
“Terrible thought, that.”
Al chuckles. “So eleven?”
Teddy groans as he sets his mirror on the counter and rummages through the cupboards more aggressively. “You’re a slave driver, Al.” He doesn’t miss Al’s wicked grin or the salacious chuckle Scorpius creates. “Make it half twelve—you’ll need time to freshen up,” Teddy says with a grimace. He cannot decide if he is relieved or horrified when the connection on his Mobile Mirror is cut.
Having successfully lost his appetite he decides he may as well nap until noon.
Louis is a right prick when he and Teddy go head to head over the menu. He’s not having gold lettering on anything in his pub, not ever.
“What part of fucking simple do you not understand,” Teddy says hotly when he throws the ridiculously posh looking menu at Louis.
“This is simple,” Louis insists, and Teddy knows then he’s gone round the twist.
“Simple as in burgers, chips, fish—you know, fried, easy to kick out the kitchen, and loaded with salt to make the people thirsty so that I might sell more drink!”
Louis wrinkles his nose and pulls a face as if that is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard—Teddy wants to tell him the stupidest thing he’s ever heard is foie gras being served in a rock music pub. However, he restrains himself—hiring Louis is a favour to Victoire, a stupid favour but one he’s got to stick with. At least until he can find a better chef, and by better he means a person who listens. Though fat chance of that—it’s been at least five years since he’s taken Louis on, and he’s not left yet.
Al comes in before their argument can come to blows and Teddy is grateful when he pushes out of his seat and says, “You talk to him—this is fucking ridiculous.” He mutters something about being the fucking boss and still not being in charge but by that point Al and Louis are diplomatically trying to solve the problem of the fucking posh menu. The menu Louis has changed ten times in the last half decade.
Out in the alley, at the back of the pub, Teddy lights a cigarette and rubs at his tired eyes—when he was twenty five recovering from a hangover was a fuck of a lot simpler than trying to recover from a hangover at thirty seven. “Fucking hell, I’m old,” he says with a grim smile. A bird’s shrill caw mocks him and he swears it says, Thank you for stating the obvious. Ruddy birds.
The air out here feels damp and smells a bit like wet rubbish, and now the scent mingles with his cheap tobacco—it’s god awful and Teddy hates it. Some days he’s not sure why he’s living this life. And damn if that isn’t a depressing thought as he stands here staring at the fading vibrancy of some punk’s graffiti.
In truth, he’s not sure how long he’s been out here, dwelling on regrets of paths not followed, when Al’s hand touches his shoulder. “Ted,” his deep voice breaks the spell of Teddy’s trance.
“Yeah?”
“Louis has agreed to something simple and undignified.” Al does a great impression of Louis, and it makes Teddy smile.
“Fucking pretentious French fucker,” Teddy says mutinously as he throws an arm around Al’s shoulder, “So how’d you get him to agree?”
“Told him I’d write his mother,” Al’s as evil as his smile is sweet—it’s brilliant.
Watching the young hopefuls on his stage makes Teddy miss playing horrid songs in shoddy pubs with his old mates. It’s been years since he’s properly held a guitar. His fingers feel stiff, he’s not even sure he could do it now if he tried. He frowns when the drummer loses his place and his notes quit syncing up with his band mates. They realise as well and sigh loudly while stopping.
“Right, stop, stop,” the guitarist pipes up when he’s quit, holding the sleek neck of his instrument in one hand he points at the boy. And then Teddy notices, the boy—he can’t be more than fifteen.
“Wait,” Teddy says suddenly, standing and walking over to the stage, “How old is this bloke?” He jerks his head at the boy and the other members shrug.
“We met him today—our drummer cancelled on us due to a case of dragon pox so we picked him up outside—he said he could play,” the bassist glares at the boy over that.
“I can,” the boy shouts—going a little red around the ears, “I’ve just never really played with other people—still fairly new at this.”
“That’s all well and good,” Teddy says with a dry tone, “But how old are you, I can’t be letting kids play at my club without parental consent.” He chews his lip, and Teddy narrows his eyes. “Right, I’ll go with the second band then. Sorry mates, come back round when your drummer gets a clean bill of health from the Healers.”
They all stagger off, except for the young one. He’s fidgeting at the edge of the stage, holding onto his drumsticks as if they are the only thing keeping him from shouting in frustration. Teddy remembers being like that, once upon a time, in his youth. “Gonna stand there all day, are you?” Teddy finally says when he turns back to see the kid being awkward as hell.
“Er, uh, no—I,” he bites his lip, “I just haven’t got anywhere else to go.” His accent is strange—English, yes, but not. It’s too barely there and some of his tone is off, as if he’s foreign. Then he comes closer and thrusts his hand out to Teddy, and mentally Teddy winces while also congratulating himself on being right, “My name’s Toby—I’m kinda stuck here without any place to go.”
“Ah,” Teddy stays evasive. “Not from around these part, yeah?”
A deep breath is pushed of Toby’s mouth and Teddy notices a hoop at the side of his bottom lip when he smiles up at Teddy. “Not at all.”
“Got a place to stay?” Teddy asks as he waves the kid over to the bar.
“Um, not really,” he says, rubbing the back of his long, thin neck, “I kinda just arrived.”
“Right.” Teddy throws a dish flannel at him. “Can you clean dishes?”
“Uh-,” Toby starts but Teddy cuts him off with a clap to his shoulder.
“Excellent, you start this evening—in exchange I’ll feed you and give you room and board. If you suck you can slum it in the streets.”
“Wha-,” Teddy interrupts the floundering boy again.
“I’ve got a flat with a couple of spare rooms. Since it’s just me you can have one, yeah?”
Toby raises an eyebrow sceptically. “You aren’t a creepy pervert, are you?”
“No,” Teddy says with a laugh, “But it’ll ease my conscience if I keep you away from the perverts milling about London.”
Toby hasn’t got much Teddy notices—a small duffle with only a spare couple of shirts and a pair of ratty looking pants. Teddy rolls his eyes. “I’ve got some of my old clothes stored in the wardrobe—feel free to have a go at them and see what you can wear if you’d like.”
“Thanks,” Toby says as he drops his duffle on the spare bed.
“Sure, now get ready I’ll show you around the kitchen and introduce you to the nightmare of known as Chef Louis before your shift starts.” Teddy leaves him to change and settle, all the while wondering what the hell has got into him.
Al asks the same question when Teddy breaks the news.
“You’re kidding; please, tell me you’re kidding.” He crosses his arms, and through the pale fabric of his pressed long-sleeve Teddy can see the dark swirls of colour in Al’s skin. “You do realise who my father is, yeah?”
Teddy rolls his eyes, “Al, please, I knew your dad years before you were a thought in his mind.” Albus doesn’t take offense at that, but he does glare at Teddy due to the situation at hand.
“You’re supposed to report him.” His whisper is angry, and he stops speaking when one of the bands Teddy’s supposed to audition comes in through the front door. When they pass he steps closer to Teddy, “Seriously, you will land in hot shit if you don’t at least tell Dad.”
Teddy rubs a hand over the stubble on his cheek and sighs, “I know, I know, and don’t worry, I plan on ringing him first thing in the morning. I just need to figure out what I want to say before then.”
“You’re really going to keep this kid?” Al deflates a bit.
“Yeah,” Teddy says, “I feel like I need to protect him.”
“Fuck,” Al mutters, “You sound like Dad.” He runs a hand through his curls and the mop Al calls hair takes on that just shagged look Teddy’s always hated and envied. “I’ll tell Scorpius to stand ready to defend you to the Wizengamot.”
Teddy snorts. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Al.”
Toby comes down in Teddy’s faded, beyond repair Weird Sisters T-Shirt and a pair of trousers that he’s got to bunch up over the tops of his trainers since Teddy’s legs seem to have been longer than Toby’s in youth. Yet, Teddy finds the grungy rocker look suits the kid—it’s basically what he was wearing when he came in earlier, even if the band he wears now is a bit dated.
“Will this work?” Toby says and in response Teddy hands him a white apron.
“It will now.”
In the kitchen Louis is busy barking at the few elves Teddy keeps on staff, telling them what to clean, as Louis takes to mopping up the floors. “A clean kitchen is a proper kitchen,” he’s telling the harassed elves, but Teddy knows they worship the arsehole for it.
“Lou,” Teddy says cheerily, knowing he’s annoyed Louis when the other man turns on him with cold blue eyes. “I brought you a new servant to boss about.”
Toby looks startled when Louis gives him a once over, but it’s odd—not intimidation, just startled curiosity. “He looks lazy,” Louis says and the smile Toby wears is genuine, perking Teddy’s growing interest.
“I promise not to be lazy.” Toby seems sincere but even so Louis appears doubtful.
Even if he’s cynical Louis says, “Go wash the dishes.”
“There aren’t any,” Toby says with a raised eyebrow at the sink.
With an almost cruel smile Louis says, “I don’t care, wash some.”
Teddy laughs, he can’t help it—and with an apologetic look at Toby, says, “You heard the man.”
Al works front of house. He’s good with people, his disarming smile and glittering eyes—not to mention he’s a younger, handsomer version of his famous father. Teddy’s noticed over the years all the “odd” people in his pub, people who seem outside the sort of scene Teddy’s lain in these walls—and he suspects these people come for Al. He’s not complaining—between Al and Louis’ food Teddy’s pub does just fine, even when they’ve a shit band on. And even if the food leans more towards pretentious when Louis is feeling creative.
Tonight they’re lucky, Teddy’s been screening the hopefuls better since he first opened. Back when he needed any random set of musicians off the street. Now it’s an honour to play on his stage—or so he’s heard. He snorts every time a band member tells him that, he’s not sure he’d call it an honour. But he can admit some of the greats started on his stage—a few of them even stop in from time to time, for a bite, for a chat, or to see the newest hopefuls of Wizarding London.
Celebrity Scorpius calls Teddy, and the flavour of the word still feels raw and disgusting in his mouth. But he’s been a “celebrity” since birth, much as everyone in his small knit group of friends and family have been. If you’re associated with Harry Potter in any way you are tabloid worthy.
But he’d like to believe this is a bit more than Harry, this place, a bit more than his parents, Teddy’d like to think this is all his passion—his purpose, or fuck what’s he been doing with his life.
They finish closing at three—every morning. Al pats him on the back on his way to the Floo and Louis gives him his usual glare when he follows. The elves are down in the small second pantry Teddy made into a bedroom for them. They claim it’s heaven and he feels bad for not renting them a room upstairs, but they always protest too much when he’s tried to give it to them in the past. Now, however, he’s got this kid.
The one currently drooling on his new mahogany bartop, and lightly snoring. Teddy smiles as he stares at the innocence this kid exudes. “Must be nice being so young,” he says as he ruffles the boy’s hair.
Toby’s eyes flutter open at the touch, “Mum,” he says as a wide yawn forces its way through the word.
“No, mate, it’s just me, Teddy.”
“Oh shit,” Toby says with a drowsy slur, “So it’s not just a fucking crazy dream?”
“Fraid not.”
“Man, this is heavy.” Slim fingers shove themselves up into pale hair and Teddy finally takes note of how pale Toby’s hair is.
“Damn, you look part Malfoy with hair like that.” His words obviously confuse his companion.
“Who?”
Teddy shakes his head, “No one. So you use those potions to change hair colour?”
Toby shakes his head, the same slow shake Teddy does. “No. This is natural and the chicks dig it so I keep it.” His wink is entirely too cheeky.
Finally they head up to the flat Teddy’s got upstairs. Toby needs some help and Teddy thinks for a tall kid with a handsome face he’s awfully awkward at times. But what does Teddy know maybe that adds to his appeal. Al certainly found him amusing and charming earlier in the evening when he was gushing over Al’s drumming abilities.
Comparing Al to a young John Bonham was just him being nice, Teddy is sure, but then again as enthusiastic as the boy was there’s no telling. Al as a result was a complete egotistical dick for the entire evening—meaning his charm was intensified and Teddy had to keep from throttling him by the night’s end.
Teddy’s Mobile Mirror rings and he touches the reflective glass to answer—it’s Jennifer, the bit of skirt who’s been chasing him for the past three months. She’s a nice girl, got an even nicer set of tits, and she has ridiculously soft, eager hands. But she’s missing that factor he’s been chasing for years—by now he’s resigned himself to the fact he’s never going to find it, and as a result he’s given up looking.
“Hey,” she purrs when the connection is made.
He smiles at her sleepily, “Hi.”
“I was hoping to come and have fun with you, now that work’s done.” She’s always right to the point. It annoys and arouses, usually the first more than the last.
“Right, well,” Teddy’s grasping for an excuse and luckily he’s got one, hasn’t he. “I’ve got one of my cousin’s kids here for a few days—maybe longer—so I’m gonna have to pass for a while.”
Her frown makes her very unattractive in Teddy’s opinion but he’s smart enough not to say so. “You’ve been putting me off a lot recently.” Apparently she’s onto him.
He sighs and sits up, “Honestly,” he starts and her face is a mask of tightly pinched fury. He’s glad he’s saying this now rather than in her company, though he’s sure she’ll find a way to exact her revenge, all of his “exes” find a way eventually. “I’m just not feeling it, yeah? I mean,” he rushes to add, “You’re great and all, but I’m getting on in years and all this sex is putting me off.” Really, he thinks to himself, Really because he and his cock both know that’s not the case—when he’s a hundred maybe then it’ll have had enough. It’s just had enough of her.
“Is that why your performance is lacking,” she says and he’s sure it’s meant to be an insult—he takes it as an insult mentally but on the outside Teddy pretends to be an idiot and nods solemnly.
“Yeah, I’m just not feeling casual sex anymore.” He could kick himself in the bollocks for that, but really he’s glad to be done with her.
“Right, well—it’s been fun I suppose.” She’s barely keeping from snapping, he can tell. “I guess I won’t be seeing you round then.”
“Probably-,” she’s cut the connection before he can finish with ‘not’.
Falling back against the pillows Teddy sighs before finally closing his eyes to sleep.
In the morning Teddy takes note of something that smells suspiciously like omelettes. He finds Toby in his kitchen, and sure enough in the skillet a decent looking omelette sizzles to perfection.
“Morning,” Toby calls brightly.
Teddy grunts out a “Good morning.”
“Coffee?”
“Sounds splendid,” Teddy says as he sits heavily on of the tall chairs at his table.
He’s got a cup of coffee before him, with a trickle running down the white side of the beaker from the hasty way Toby’s sat it before him. Teddy doesn’t complain though, he’s quite glad he didn’t have to get it himself.
Lifting the paper Teddy sees Harry’s grim smile and watches as his adoptive father shakes hands with the current Minister of Magic, the one Harry’s always raving is full of shite. Teddy’s always trusted Harry with these matters and seeing as he’s never been much good with politics he just agrees when Harry starts raving before and after dinner.
When the plate is sat before him he remembers he’s supposed to contact Harry about his current houseguest. Harry’s not likely to be happy over it but it’s better to tell him before the random paparazzi spots them out and weaves a darker tale—as that slag Rita is known to do.
“Anything interesting in that paper?” Toby inquires around a mouthful of omelette.
“If you’re interested in the new Minister then, yes—if not then the crossword is usually all right.”
Toby smiles and Teddy can see a bit of parsley in his teeth. “Nah, probably wouldn’t guess any of the words. I’m not up on current affairs in the United Kingdom.”
“Where are you from?” It’s to the point—something which makes Teddy feel awkward at times but at the moment his curiosity beats out his discomfort.
“New York—upstate near Rochester and Lake Ontario, but Floo to Salem Witches Institute every day for school.”
“You go home every night?”
“Yep.”
“Odd,” Teddy says.
“Mum said the same thing when we enrolled.”
Teddy watches him for a minute. “You sound English—well, English enough—is your mother from around here?”
“Yeah, she’s from some place called Cornwall, I think.” He smiles and adds, “I’ve got a bit of a mixed accent I suppose. She’s still got hers pretty good, and I usually just adopt my accent to those around me. I can’t help it—just kinda happens.”
Teddy nods, he used to be that way with eye and hair colour as a kid and even a bit as a teen—his body’s natural response was to change and adapt to the person nearest him. He’s offended quite a few people over the years due to that fact. He wonders if Toby’s offended others with his quirky response to those around him—Teddy finds it interesting more than offensive.
“Well, you’re almost believable,” Teddy says, finally after a moment of thought, “Until you go thrusting your hand out like you’re the dog’s bollocks.”
Toby snorts a laugh and Teddy grins when he notices he’s shot a bit of orange juice out his nose. “Fuck, that hurt,” Toby declares while he dabs at his nose with a napkin.
Louis comes to collect Toby before Teddy’s dressed. “You’re here at this ungodly hour?”
“It’s nine, Teddy, not four in the morning—which is the time I get up to start cleaning up your pub’s kitchen, I might add.”
“You just did,” Teddy grumbles and then adds, “Where are you taking him?”
“A bit of shopping. I’m going to meet with other butchers.”
“What’s wrong with the current one?” Probably some problem Louis has invented, Teddy’s sure.
“He’s overcharging you.”
“Right,” Teddy says with a wave of his arm, “Well, take him, but don’t wear him out—I’m sure his drool left a scar on my bartop. I don’t want him crashing like that tonight.”
“Later Ted,” Toby calls as he runs out the door behind Louis. He looks far too excited to be going to a butcher than Teddy expects he should be.
“Ruddy brat,” he calls fondly after the disappeared form.
Harry meets him at the pub. Teddy has some of the soup Louis prepared for the lunch meal and bread on a plate for him when he arrives.
“What’s your poison, Harry,” Teddy asks with his usual lazy smile when Harry takes his place at the bar.
“Water, thank you.” Harry looks around. “Well, everything looks intact—I am assuming there is a reason I’m here?”
Teddy leans a hip against his side of the bar and folds his arms, “Yeah, there might be.”
Harry points at him and says, “Teddy,” in the tone that implies he is not looking for Teddy’s usual games.
“All right, so I’ve got-,” he’s interrupted by Toby’s excited shout as he dashes into the pub, stuff in his arms and Louis following him at a sedate pace.
“Teddy,” the boy shouts, “You are not going to believe what I tried today!” Before Teddy can tell him to shut it he’s continuing , “Blood pudding—do you know what’s in blood pudding?” Teddy wants to tell him it’s in the name and call him daft but Toby’s so excited it’s hard to stop him. “And can you believe it didn’t taste like ass?” There’s the American in the boy again. Teddy smiles, a bit tight around the eyes due to the fact this is not how he wanted to introduce his present company to his, er, ward. He hasn’t much time to try and figure out a plan on how to introduce Harry to this new addition to Teddy’s house. Toby’s already doing it for him, like the brash youth that he is, “Hiya, I’m Toby—you look an awful lot like Al Potter, you know, you his dad or something?”
And God isn’t that weird—a kid, in the Wizarding UK, who doesn’t know exactly who Harry Potter is. That throws Harry for a good second and he hasn’t much time to recuperate because Toby is speaking again, “Fucking good drummer, that guy. Shame he didn’t stick with Ashwinders on Ice—then everyone would know he’s the greatest drummer of all time.”
Teddy seriously doubts Al’s the greatest drummer of all time but he’s seemed to have made a very heavy impression on Toby. And if Teddy’s being honest, then yes Al could have been something phenomenal—he’s just too much like his dad for his own good.
“His mother and I believe he had the potential, yes,” Harry’s eyes have gone fond and that’s a good thing Teddy thinks because then maybe he won’t level the bar when Teddy tells him he’s got a runaway from America kipping in his spare room.
“Why’d he quit—never got the full story on that, least where I am,” Harry frowns thoughtfully at that and Teddy wants to kick the kid for being a damn idiot. Less is more he mentally screams in Toby’s direction. It was all over the UK when Al quit Ashwinders on Ice. Teddy can still recall the headline “Straight-laced Malfoy Tames Rebel Drummer Al Potter.” He thought Harry was going to spit fire over that one. They’d finally supported Al—finally—after years of anger over the fact Al left school before his N.E.W.T.s and the fact he left for a band. And then Al drops the bomb he’s leaving his band—his band which was, at the time, signing a contract with Pantheon Records for 45 million galleons with a 5 million galleon signing bonus to make ten albums—two of which were already done—and Al told them he wasn’t going to go to L.A. without Scorpius. Scorpius—the selfish sod as Harry has dubbed him—who refused to go to L.A. because all of his life’s work is in London.
But as bands often do when a drummer leaves—Ashwinders on Ice didn’t suffer much due to the loss of Al, but even Teddy knows their past six drummers will never live up to the Al Potter standard they’d already set. Apparently, Toby knows this as well because he laments how amazing Al is at every opportunity.
“Love,” Harry says in response to Toby’s question, after many deep minutes of consideration. “He quit for love, like all stupid, courageous men do.” Teddy knows there’s a story about Ginny in that line somewhere but he’s not too keen on looking for it at the moment.
“My mum tells me to stay away from snatch for that reason—says it’ll make me stupid in life if I put it before everything else. Tough luck on your son falling for it—rock music will never be the same,” Toby adds solemnly at the end. Teddy’s amused by the strange look on Harry’s face—they all know Al’s nowhere near interested in “snatch”. Hasn’t wanted to see another vagina since he left his mother’s, and Al often jokes hers is the one that put him off them for life—my first scarring memory.
Louis calls Toby into the kitchen—obviously reading Teddy’s body language for the help it’s been silently screaming for, for the past fifteen minutes. Toby goes with a quick pat to Harry’s arm and an “It’s a pleasure to meet the man who made Al Potter.”
When he’s just out of sight Harry turns to Teddy and says, “He’s not from around here is he?”
“New York, he tells me,” Teddy tries for casual but Harry can tell he knows how much shit he’s in.
“Teddy, I’ve got to inform Percy. He oversees Children’s Welfare—not to mention I’ve got to get the Aurors on this as he is a foreign runaway and this is officially an international problem. Not to mention he should be in school and you’ve got him working in a pub—a pub for 18 and overs.” Harry’s tone informs him he’s in deep shit and Teddy tries to play it cool.
Teddy leans against the bar top and hangs his head, “Look, Harry, please—he’s, I don’t even know his story yet—just give me some time.”
“Ted, you don’t even know this kid—how long’s he been here?”
“A day,” he tries to win Harry over with his best smile.
Harry’s eyes go hard, “A clean break is best you realise?”
Teddy frowns, “I just don’t want him to be put in the system.”
“Why, it’s not perfect but it works—you either believe in it or you don’t, we aren’t above the system, Teddy. No matter what some people may believe.” There’s a jab at Scorpius’s father in there somewhere, Teddy’s sure of it.
“I know—but, it’s just—he reminds me of me.” He’s really desperate to be pulling that line out of his book—worse yet he’s surprised by how much he means the words.
“I’ll put it off, for now,” Harry says quietly, after some minutes of consideration, “But I can’t put it off forever.” Then he adds with a fond, memory laden look, “He’s got the same crooked smile you’ve got.”
A month passes and Harry doesn’t come to collect Toby. He likes the boy—Teddy can tell. He always smiles fondly when Toby calls out to him, “Ol’ Uncle Harry,” he’s named him. Teddy knows Harry likes it better than Grampy which is what James’s kids have saddled him with.
Teddy likes him, too—he’s a reminder of something he’s almost but not quite forgot.
Then it happens—a picture, innocent little snapshot of the past—Toby’s holding a frame and saying, “Hey, Ted, who’s this chick?”
She’s not more than fourteen in this picture—it’s from the time they went to get their first tattoos. Harry played merry hell over those—Dean’s never quite recovered from Harry’s ire. He takes it—ever so gentle with the shells stuck to the frame. Dominique made it, with shells she’d picked on the shore just meters from her parents' then home.
“Where did you find this?” His voice is soft, fond, and lightly edged with pain.
“That old closet thing full of your clothes.”
“My wardrobe? Really,” he says, “I thought I’d cleared all the pictures out of there.” Hidden them away in boxes in the attic, or at least he thought he had—maybe this was one of the pictures Al has tried to sneak back into his life.
“So,” Toby asks again—strangely he’s buzzing with excitement. “Who is she?”
Teddy smiles, a smile he hasn’t worn in years—Al calls it the Nikita smile—and leans back against the sofa, staring and touching the laughing face. “Nikita,” he says finally and he hands the photo to Toby then points to his younger self. “That dashing rogue there is me.”
“Really,” Toby breathes out dramatically and Teddy is mildly affronted by his surprise. “You look young!”
“I was sixteen, that’s twenty-two years ago,” he groans. “God,” he says tiredly—just now acknowledging the years between his youth and now, “I suppose I was young once.”
Toby laughs and smoothes his hand over Nikita’s face, “She was lovely, wasn’t she?”
Teddy’s smile goes soft again, “She was, indeed.” His eyes are fond once more when he looks at the way her willowy arm wraps about his youthful form when she laughs in the frame he can hear her bright tone in his ear, as if she is close. “She was always my favourite.”
“What happened,” Toby whispers.
“Stupidity,” Teddy says, “Things unspoken—you always figure out what you should have said in the past years after the fact.”
“What kind of things?” Toby wonders quietly.
“I’m sorry. I’m a prat. You’re the best. I love you.” Teddy laughs, “Simple things—seems rather easy doesn’t it, but it’s not—communicating with women is an art I’ve yet to perfect.”
“Can’t you call her or something?” Toby plays with the hem of his baggy shirt.
“She doesn’t want to talk to me—I’ve owled, tried to ring when I still knew her Mirror handle, but she’s done with me, son.” He ruffles Toby’s soft hair—not sure why but it calms him and Toby leans closer to his side and awkwardly tries to give him some form of ‘I’m here for you, man’ comfort. It helps and Teddy’s glad this kid’s here.
When he stands to make dinner Teddy notices Toby lift the frame of the picture, but he doesn’t stay to watch how Toby’s eyes glaze.
Toby is across the table from him with a miserable look on his face when Teddy comes in one evening—it’s the first time in three months Teddy’s seen him so miserable, and it’s the first time he’s missed work.
“All right there, Toby?”
“Yeah, no, I dunno, man.” His speech is fast and cracks with obvious distress.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“Dunno,” he mutters like the mutinous teenager he is. “I just—fuck.”
“Please tell me we don’t have to have the sex talk, because frankly, I am not ready to give that sort of advice.” Teddy feels as uncomfortable as he is sure he looks.
“No, it’s just,” he trails off again. “You know—sometimes I don’t realise how lonely I am, you know?” Teddy does know. He knows rather well actually—he’s been lonely his whole life, and only on the rare occasion is that loneliness not trying to scratch under his skin and seep into his bones. Teddy’s the kind of person who can feel alone in a room full of people.
“I understand,” he says and he wonders if Toby can tell he means it. The silence that drifts between them is charged and Teddy looks up, saying, “Tell me about her.”
“Who?” Toby looks around as if there is supposed to be some clue written in the air.
“Your mother.”
Toby’s eyes go soft and Teddy’d like to think that’s how he looked when he was young and his gran would tell him stories about his own mother. He likes to think he looked that happy and full of wonder when thinking about a woman he’s never known.
“She’s got a great smile.” He’s grinning at Teddy and Teddy thinks if Toby’s mother’s smile is half as bright as her son’s then it truly is a great smile. “And when she laughs it makes the world right.” His long fingers tap against the top of the table and he stares at his bitten down nails as he speaks, “She’s like the coolest person in the universe without even trying. I have to watch out because when she walks into a room everyone notices her—she’s this insanely pretty woman and it’s not just on the outside. Like she’s got this personality that draws people closer—she’s nice, but not that superficial nice like girls I know. She’s honest, and quirky, a bit nerdy, and an insane flirt.”
A lot like her son then, Teddy thinks as he watches emotions shift in the light of Toby’s eyes. He swallows and sits back, looking away and Teddy pretends he doesn’t see that he’s almost crying.
“She’s forgiving—the best kind of forgiving, like no matter how bad you fuck up she still loves you,” Toby finally says thickly.
Teddy smiles, he’s known a few women who are that forgiving and he’s loved all of them dearly. “She’ll forgive you for this,” Teddy says, “Forgiveness is the final form of love.” When Toby looks up he cracks a half grin at him, “I read that in a card once.”
Toby snorts out a laugh. “She may not love me after this.”
“My gran used to say a mother’s love knows no end. Mad as she was at my mum for leaving me and rushing after my dad during the war, she never stopped loving her.” A long pause and Teddy finally asks the question one of them is curious to know the answer to and the other is actively avoiding, “So why did you run off, and better yet how did you run away—you live an ocean away, that takes ages to get a proper Portkey.”
Shifting in his seat Toby looks at the ground, his eyes on his socked feet as he whispers, “My mum’s got a boyfriend.” Teddy waits and finally he says, “He says he’s going to push me out in a few years—when I’m eighteen, because I’m shit and cause trouble apparently and he plans on knocking my mum up and having a nice family.” He looks up and over at Teddy, “And I’m not a part of this nice family equation.”
Teddy sets his face in his hand while he holds Toby’s gaze. “You running away doesn’t keep him from forcing you out, you know—if anything, you did his job for him.”
“I know—I want her to have this nice family, I want her to fall in love and be normal.” He shrugs. “If I fuck that up for her I won’t be able to forgive myself, you know. She’s given me everything—s’the least I could do for her.”
Teddy chuckles. “How terribly selfish of you.”
Toby doesn’t understand now, but one day he will—if anything he’s made her pain greater. Teddy can’t imagine ever being a parent—it seems too damn painful and raw. He’s perfectly fine with being an uncle until the day he dies.
“As for how I got here,” Toby says to break the odd tension in the air. “I was really pissed after Daniel told me he wanted this great wonderful family and I was waiting for my friend Jason, was supposed to return his money, and all the while I kept getting madder and madder and finally I just wished to see my dad. Then a painful yank behind my belly button and here I was.”
Teddy quirks an eyebrow at him. “You’d better get to looking for him, then—she might be with him trying to find you.”
“She’s not,” Toby says softly. “I’ll know when she’s with him.”
Nodding, Teddy decides to let the subject drop. Teenagers know everything and so he doesn’t try to tell this one otherwise.
Part Two
Author:
crazyparakissPrompt: Dominique is too big a flirt, too much a slacker, too selfish to ever compare favourably to her older sister, but she sees a vulnerability in Teddy that everyone else has overlooked.
Pairing(s): Teddy/Dominique, Teddy/Others (mentions), Dominique/Others (mentions), Albus Severus/Scorpius (side pairing, they are the sidekicks cause you know who can resist), most all canon pairings.
Word Count: 18.2k approx
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Het sex, mentions of slashy innuendo, random teenage angst, blatant abuse of flashbacks.
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: As usual I’ve played fast and loose with a prompt. But seriously in my heart of hearts Teddy/Dominique is one of my OTPs. Also all the love to my CURI OF WIN who beta’d this for me! And the title comes from an REM song but you knew that, right? :D
Summary: Dreaming or awake, we perceive only events that have meaning to us.
When Gran’s Kneazle dies Dominique is six and Teddy is eight—it’s Easter and she, Teddy, Victoire, Louis, Molly, Lucy, Roxy and Freddie are standing around as Uncle Harry carries the fat, fuzzy body to be buried in the garden. Each of them but Teddy cries. Uncle Harry pulls him aside and they speak quietly together. Uncle Harry pats him on the shoulder and Teddy smiles at him—in the way only Teddy can, crooked and without care.
It’s later when they are all sleeping in Uncle George’s old room that Teddy cries. Dominique wakes up and finds him sitting on the ground with his skinny arms around knobby knees. Everyone else is sleeping and so she carefully makes her way out of bed and down onto the floor with him.
“Teddy,” she whispers.
He stops sniffing and holds his breath, hoping she will return to the bed. However, she doesn’t. Dominique puts a small arm around his shaking shoulders and kisses his cheek. “It’s okay to be sad,” she says, mimicking what her father told her earlier in the day when they all stood around the grave Uncle Harry had made.
“Why do things die?” he asks. Dominique is too young to know the answer to that question but she tries to answer him regardless.
“Because everything has to.” She hugs him tighter. “Daddy says it’s normal.”
“But it makes me lonely,” he whispers as he turns to hug her back.
And she doesn’t know what to say, so she holds him while he cries into her hair.
Teddy wakes to the sun streaming against his closed eyelids. He’s got a killer hang over. Al kept him out to celebrate the contract Scorpius negotiated for Oliver Wood with Nimbus Racing Broom Company; apparently in spring there will be Wood Brooms all over the sky. There is a joke in there somewhere, Teddy knows, he’s just much too hung over to chuckle about it at the moment.
He sits up and kicks at the sheets which feel leaden and the duvet isn’t much better. Feet on the chilly wooden floors; Teddy swears. In the bathroom he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His stubble is as bright as his hair, and just as teal in colour—he’s still not quite sure how all of his facial hair manages to grow the same as the colour he prefers to keep on his head. “Morning sexy,” he grumbles to himself as he reaches clumsily for his toothbrush.
The shower is fuck cold and he shouts when it hits him.
Al rings him on his Mobile Mirror when he’s rummaging through the cupboards, looking for something to eat and a potion to swish down for his headache.
“Ted,” Al whispers against the glass, fogging it over as is his usual way.
“Yes?”
“I’ll be able to come by and help you organise your band list for the week and you set a menu with Louis since we both know what a buggering diva he is when it comes to being right.” Teddy nearly snorts, but manages to refrain. Louis acts as if he’s cooking in some Michelin Three Star when in fact he’s “head chef” of the dodgy pub Teddy’s gran left him when she died—it had been a bit of a family thing. Something his dead mum and granddad had invested in shortly before war broke out and had to put on hold due to that war. Harry’d kept it up financially because his gran had asked and now their dream is his life. But it’s still not a Three Star Michelin as Louis’d like to believe.
“Not whisking off for your yearly honeymoon with the gilded Malfoy prince?”
“I heard that,” Scorpius’s smooth drawl causes Teddy to smile.
“No, we celebrated quite a bit last night, and this morning,” Al replies with a lewd grin and Teddy rolls his eyes. “We’re not heading out for another week, if at all, Scorpius has another Quidditch contract to negotiate. Carol Hayes is supposed to re-sign with the Harpies but they’re trying to give her half of what she’s worth. If they don’t watch it the Foul Mouth’s will have her before Christmas.”
“What a lovely gift that’ll be.”
“James’ll definitely be full of malicious glee if that happens.”
“Terrible thought, that.”
Al chuckles. “So eleven?”
Teddy groans as he sets his mirror on the counter and rummages through the cupboards more aggressively. “You’re a slave driver, Al.” He doesn’t miss Al’s wicked grin or the salacious chuckle Scorpius creates. “Make it half twelve—you’ll need time to freshen up,” Teddy says with a grimace. He cannot decide if he is relieved or horrified when the connection on his Mobile Mirror is cut.
Having successfully lost his appetite he decides he may as well nap until noon.
The summer before Teddy starts Hogwarts, they spend most days at Uncle Harry’s. Teddy’s got his own room there, which Dominique has always envied. She’d give anything to have a home away from home. They spend most days chasing gnomes around the garden and play pretend pirates, using the old tool shed Uncle Harry stores assorted lawn equipment in as a vessel with which to travel the rough seas.
At night they lie on the grass and stare up at the stars which dot the velvet expanse of sky. The owl Aunt Ginny named Helix soars through their view—he’s off for his evening hunt and Dominique swears she can hear the footfalls of numerous gnomes as they dive behind thick bushes, away from Helix’s sharp yellow eyes. She turns to giggle at Teddy and tell him the little pests are hiding, because Teddy will think it is funny, but forgets the words when his fingers lace with hers. His palm is a little sticky with sweat and possibly from the sweets they ate earlier, but it is warm and comforting nonetheless.
“I don’t want to go to school,” he says quietly and Dominique thinks he’s being ridiculous because she’d love to be in school.
“Why?” She’s watching his face—mostly she stares at his eyes which reflect the stars and she thinks he looks terribly afraid.
“I am going to miss you.” He says, “I don’t want to grow up.”
She kisses his cheek and says, “No one says you have to grow up—you just have to pretend.”
Louis is a right prick when he and Teddy go head to head over the menu. He’s not having gold lettering on anything in his pub, not ever.
“What part of fucking simple do you not understand,” Teddy says hotly when he throws the ridiculously posh looking menu at Louis.
“This is simple,” Louis insists, and Teddy knows then he’s gone round the twist.
“Simple as in burgers, chips, fish—you know, fried, easy to kick out the kitchen, and loaded with salt to make the people thirsty so that I might sell more drink!”
Louis wrinkles his nose and pulls a face as if that is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard—Teddy wants to tell him the stupidest thing he’s ever heard is foie gras being served in a rock music pub. However, he restrains himself—hiring Louis is a favour to Victoire, a stupid favour but one he’s got to stick with. At least until he can find a better chef, and by better he means a person who listens. Though fat chance of that—it’s been at least five years since he’s taken Louis on, and he’s not left yet.
Al comes in before their argument can come to blows and Teddy is grateful when he pushes out of his seat and says, “You talk to him—this is fucking ridiculous.” He mutters something about being the fucking boss and still not being in charge but by that point Al and Louis are diplomatically trying to solve the problem of the fucking posh menu. The menu Louis has changed ten times in the last half decade.
Out in the alley, at the back of the pub, Teddy lights a cigarette and rubs at his tired eyes—when he was twenty five recovering from a hangover was a fuck of a lot simpler than trying to recover from a hangover at thirty seven. “Fucking hell, I’m old,” he says with a grim smile. A bird’s shrill caw mocks him and he swears it says, Thank you for stating the obvious. Ruddy birds.
The air out here feels damp and smells a bit like wet rubbish, and now the scent mingles with his cheap tobacco—it’s god awful and Teddy hates it. Some days he’s not sure why he’s living this life. And damn if that isn’t a depressing thought as he stands here staring at the fading vibrancy of some punk’s graffiti.
In truth, he’s not sure how long he’s been out here, dwelling on regrets of paths not followed, when Al’s hand touches his shoulder. “Ted,” his deep voice breaks the spell of Teddy’s trance.
“Yeah?”
“Louis has agreed to something simple and undignified.” Al does a great impression of Louis, and it makes Teddy smile.
“Fucking pretentious French fucker,” Teddy says mutinously as he throws an arm around Al’s shoulder, “So how’d you get him to agree?”
“Told him I’d write his mother,” Al’s as evil as his smile is sweet—it’s brilliant.
At Platform 9 ¾ she goes with Uncle Harry and Auntie Andromeda to see Teddy off—he’s a frightful jittery mess in his wrinkled white shirt. His thin legs are hidden in his usual worn denim trousers and his trainers are already scuffed despite their newness. Dominique giggles at his attire when he asks her how he looks.
“Like you just woke up,” she replies and brushes off noticeable bits of hair from his Crup. “You’re a piece of work.”
He rolls his eyes, “Stuff it.” Then he adds, low enough so as not to let Uncle Harry or his gran hear, “I’ll write you every day.” And he presses a quick kiss to her cheek, “I miss you already.”
She smiles. “Don’t, you’re going to make loads of friends.”
“You’ll always be my favourite.”
She follows the train when it pulls away and hopes Teddy doesn’t notice how hard she is crying.
Watching the young hopefuls on his stage makes Teddy miss playing horrid songs in shoddy pubs with his old mates. It’s been years since he’s properly held a guitar. His fingers feel stiff, he’s not even sure he could do it now if he tried. He frowns when the drummer loses his place and his notes quit syncing up with his band mates. They realise as well and sigh loudly while stopping.
“Right, stop, stop,” the guitarist pipes up when he’s quit, holding the sleek neck of his instrument in one hand he points at the boy. And then Teddy notices, the boy—he can’t be more than fifteen.
“Wait,” Teddy says suddenly, standing and walking over to the stage, “How old is this bloke?” He jerks his head at the boy and the other members shrug.
“We met him today—our drummer cancelled on us due to a case of dragon pox so we picked him up outside—he said he could play,” the bassist glares at the boy over that.
“I can,” the boy shouts—going a little red around the ears, “I’ve just never really played with other people—still fairly new at this.”
“That’s all well and good,” Teddy says with a dry tone, “But how old are you, I can’t be letting kids play at my club without parental consent.” He chews his lip, and Teddy narrows his eyes. “Right, I’ll go with the second band then. Sorry mates, come back round when your drummer gets a clean bill of health from the Healers.”
They all stagger off, except for the young one. He’s fidgeting at the edge of the stage, holding onto his drumsticks as if they are the only thing keeping him from shouting in frustration. Teddy remembers being like that, once upon a time, in his youth. “Gonna stand there all day, are you?” Teddy finally says when he turns back to see the kid being awkward as hell.
“Er, uh, no—I,” he bites his lip, “I just haven’t got anywhere else to go.” His accent is strange—English, yes, but not. It’s too barely there and some of his tone is off, as if he’s foreign. Then he comes closer and thrusts his hand out to Teddy, and mentally Teddy winces while also congratulating himself on being right, “My name’s Toby—I’m kinda stuck here without any place to go.”
“Ah,” Teddy stays evasive. “Not from around these part, yeah?”
A deep breath is pushed of Toby’s mouth and Teddy notices a hoop at the side of his bottom lip when he smiles up at Teddy. “Not at all.”
“Got a place to stay?” Teddy asks as he waves the kid over to the bar.
“Um, not really,” he says, rubbing the back of his long, thin neck, “I kinda just arrived.”
“Right.” Teddy throws a dish flannel at him. “Can you clean dishes?”
“Uh-,” Toby starts but Teddy cuts him off with a clap to his shoulder.
“Excellent, you start this evening—in exchange I’ll feed you and give you room and board. If you suck you can slum it in the streets.”
“Wha-,” Teddy interrupts the floundering boy again.
“I’ve got a flat with a couple of spare rooms. Since it’s just me you can have one, yeah?”
Toby raises an eyebrow sceptically. “You aren’t a creepy pervert, are you?”
“No,” Teddy says with a laugh, “But it’ll ease my conscience if I keep you away from the perverts milling about London.”
He writes her for the first few months, religiously, and as the months pass his letters come less and less often. Dominique has a knot of anxiety in her stomach over this, but she goes about smiling as if nothing’s changed—only everyone can tell it has. Her mother pats her on the head with a soft smile and kind eyes. Her dad, when he’s lucid, says Teddy’s just getting adjusted and to give him some time.
Victoire says he’s got a new girlfriend and Dominique dumps ink in her hair. She’s grounded for a month but it is worth the punishment.
Toby hasn’t got much Teddy notices—a small duffle with only a spare couple of shirts and a pair of ratty looking pants. Teddy rolls his eyes. “I’ve got some of my old clothes stored in the wardrobe—feel free to have a go at them and see what you can wear if you’d like.”
“Thanks,” Toby says as he drops his duffle on the spare bed.
“Sure, now get ready I’ll show you around the kitchen and introduce you to the nightmare of known as Chef Louis before your shift starts.” Teddy leaves him to change and settle, all the while wondering what the hell has got into him.
Al asks the same question when Teddy breaks the news.
“You’re kidding; please, tell me you’re kidding.” He crosses his arms, and through the pale fabric of his pressed long-sleeve Teddy can see the dark swirls of colour in Al’s skin. “You do realise who my father is, yeah?”
Teddy rolls his eyes, “Al, please, I knew your dad years before you were a thought in his mind.” Albus doesn’t take offense at that, but he does glare at Teddy due to the situation at hand.
“You’re supposed to report him.” His whisper is angry, and he stops speaking when one of the bands Teddy’s supposed to audition comes in through the front door. When they pass he steps closer to Teddy, “Seriously, you will land in hot shit if you don’t at least tell Dad.”
Teddy rubs a hand over the stubble on his cheek and sighs, “I know, I know, and don’t worry, I plan on ringing him first thing in the morning. I just need to figure out what I want to say before then.”
“You’re really going to keep this kid?” Al deflates a bit.
“Yeah,” Teddy says, “I feel like I need to protect him.”
“Fuck,” Al mutters, “You sound like Dad.” He runs a hand through his curls and the mop Al calls hair takes on that just shagged look Teddy’s always hated and envied. “I’ll tell Scorpius to stand ready to defend you to the Wizengamot.”
Teddy snorts. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Al.”
Toby comes down in Teddy’s faded, beyond repair Weird Sisters T-Shirt and a pair of trousers that he’s got to bunch up over the tops of his trainers since Teddy’s legs seem to have been longer than Toby’s in youth. Yet, Teddy finds the grungy rocker look suits the kid—it’s basically what he was wearing when he came in earlier, even if the band he wears now is a bit dated.
“Will this work?” Toby says and in response Teddy hands him a white apron.
“It will now.”
In the kitchen Louis is busy barking at the few elves Teddy keeps on staff, telling them what to clean, as Louis takes to mopping up the floors. “A clean kitchen is a proper kitchen,” he’s telling the harassed elves, but Teddy knows they worship the arsehole for it.
“Lou,” Teddy says cheerily, knowing he’s annoyed Louis when the other man turns on him with cold blue eyes. “I brought you a new servant to boss about.”
Toby looks startled when Louis gives him a once over, but it’s odd—not intimidation, just startled curiosity. “He looks lazy,” Louis says and the smile Toby wears is genuine, perking Teddy’s growing interest.
“I promise not to be lazy.” Toby seems sincere but even so Louis appears doubtful.
Even if he’s cynical Louis says, “Go wash the dishes.”
“There aren’t any,” Toby says with a raised eyebrow at the sink.
With an almost cruel smile Louis says, “I don’t care, wash some.”
Teddy laughs, he can’t help it—and with an apologetic look at Toby, says, “You heard the man.”
When she’s sorted into Ravenclaw Teddy winks at her from up the table; Dominique smiles briefly and goes about eating her meal after they listen to the Headmaster rattle off a list of rules. Her first night in the dorm is restless. “Finally,” she thinks, “Finally, I made it.”
Teddy doesn’t have much time for her during school days. He’s got a group of mates that he hangs out with on the grounds, and pisses around with in the corridors between classes. Though Dominique doesn’t much care, she’s got loads of new friends and is enjoying being around girls who aren’t quite prettier than she is.
The weekends are for Teddy and he keeps them for her.
“First Hogsmeade is this weekend,” Teddy says one Friday when she flags him down in the corridor to ask him if he’ll help her with Potions.
She doesn’t say anything more than, “Ah, okay.”
“Next weekend,” he suggests with an apologetic tone.
“It’s due Monday so don’t worry, you go and have fun.” She tries to smile but he’s giving her that look, the one which stares right through her.
“Nikita,” he whispers as he touches her cheek and she jerks away. With a sigh he says, “Come on, don’t be mad, yeah?” Teddy takes her hand and it feels like it has been so long. He smoothes his thumb over her small knuckles. “Your first Hogsmeade I’ll take you, and when I come back tomorrow I’ll have loads of goodies for you.”
He brings her candy and a few toys from her uncle’s shop, but when she’s thirteen he blows off his promise for a bit of skirt.
Al works front of house. He’s good with people, his disarming smile and glittering eyes—not to mention he’s a younger, handsomer version of his famous father. Teddy’s noticed over the years all the “odd” people in his pub, people who seem outside the sort of scene Teddy’s lain in these walls—and he suspects these people come for Al. He’s not complaining—between Al and Louis’ food Teddy’s pub does just fine, even when they’ve a shit band on. And even if the food leans more towards pretentious when Louis is feeling creative.
Tonight they’re lucky, Teddy’s been screening the hopefuls better since he first opened. Back when he needed any random set of musicians off the street. Now it’s an honour to play on his stage—or so he’s heard. He snorts every time a band member tells him that, he’s not sure he’d call it an honour. But he can admit some of the greats started on his stage—a few of them even stop in from time to time, for a bite, for a chat, or to see the newest hopefuls of Wizarding London.
Celebrity Scorpius calls Teddy, and the flavour of the word still feels raw and disgusting in his mouth. But he’s been a “celebrity” since birth, much as everyone in his small knit group of friends and family have been. If you’re associated with Harry Potter in any way you are tabloid worthy.
But he’d like to believe this is a bit more than Harry, this place, a bit more than his parents, Teddy’d like to think this is all his passion—his purpose, or fuck what’s he been doing with his life.
They finish closing at three—every morning. Al pats him on the back on his way to the Floo and Louis gives him his usual glare when he follows. The elves are down in the small second pantry Teddy made into a bedroom for them. They claim it’s heaven and he feels bad for not renting them a room upstairs, but they always protest too much when he’s tried to give it to them in the past. Now, however, he’s got this kid.
The one currently drooling on his new mahogany bartop, and lightly snoring. Teddy smiles as he stares at the innocence this kid exudes. “Must be nice being so young,” he says as he ruffles the boy’s hair.
Toby’s eyes flutter open at the touch, “Mum,” he says as a wide yawn forces its way through the word.
“No, mate, it’s just me, Teddy.”
“Oh shit,” Toby says with a drowsy slur, “So it’s not just a fucking crazy dream?”
“Fraid not.”
“Man, this is heavy.” Slim fingers shove themselves up into pale hair and Teddy finally takes note of how pale Toby’s hair is.
“Damn, you look part Malfoy with hair like that.” His words obviously confuse his companion.
“Who?”
Teddy shakes his head, “No one. So you use those potions to change hair colour?”
Toby shakes his head, the same slow shake Teddy does. “No. This is natural and the chicks dig it so I keep it.” His wink is entirely too cheeky.
Finally they head up to the flat Teddy’s got upstairs. Toby needs some help and Teddy thinks for a tall kid with a handsome face he’s awfully awkward at times. But what does Teddy know maybe that adds to his appeal. Al certainly found him amusing and charming earlier in the evening when he was gushing over Al’s drumming abilities.
Comparing Al to a young John Bonham was just him being nice, Teddy is sure, but then again as enthusiastic as the boy was there’s no telling. Al as a result was a complete egotistical dick for the entire evening—meaning his charm was intensified and Teddy had to keep from throttling him by the night’s end.
Teddy’s Mobile Mirror rings and he touches the reflective glass to answer—it’s Jennifer, the bit of skirt who’s been chasing him for the past three months. She’s a nice girl, got an even nicer set of tits, and she has ridiculously soft, eager hands. But she’s missing that factor he’s been chasing for years—by now he’s resigned himself to the fact he’s never going to find it, and as a result he’s given up looking.
“Hey,” she purrs when the connection is made.
He smiles at her sleepily, “Hi.”
“I was hoping to come and have fun with you, now that work’s done.” She’s always right to the point. It annoys and arouses, usually the first more than the last.
“Right, well,” Teddy’s grasping for an excuse and luckily he’s got one, hasn’t he. “I’ve got one of my cousin’s kids here for a few days—maybe longer—so I’m gonna have to pass for a while.”
Her frown makes her very unattractive in Teddy’s opinion but he’s smart enough not to say so. “You’ve been putting me off a lot recently.” Apparently she’s onto him.
He sighs and sits up, “Honestly,” he starts and her face is a mask of tightly pinched fury. He’s glad he’s saying this now rather than in her company, though he’s sure she’ll find a way to exact her revenge, all of his “exes” find a way eventually. “I’m just not feeling it, yeah? I mean,” he rushes to add, “You’re great and all, but I’m getting on in years and all this sex is putting me off.” Really, he thinks to himself, Really because he and his cock both know that’s not the case—when he’s a hundred maybe then it’ll have had enough. It’s just had enough of her.
“Is that why your performance is lacking,” she says and he’s sure it’s meant to be an insult—he takes it as an insult mentally but on the outside Teddy pretends to be an idiot and nods solemnly.
“Yeah, I’m just not feeling casual sex anymore.” He could kick himself in the bollocks for that, but really he’s glad to be done with her.
“Right, well—it’s been fun I suppose.” She’s barely keeping from snapping, he can tell. “I guess I won’t be seeing you round then.”
“Probably-,” she’s cut the connection before he can finish with ‘not’.
Falling back against the pillows Teddy sighs before finally closing his eyes to sleep.
She’s fifteen when another Yule Ball comes round. Mum takes them to the fancy couture shop to get dresses made—or more specifically a dress. Mum asks if she minds—it’s Victoire’s first ball after all, as if it isn’t Dominique’s first as well. Dad says they can get two dresses but Mum dismisses the idea as too expensive. And he’d not in his right mind enough to argue once Mum’s made up her mind. Dominique can just go with a gown off the rack at Madame Malkin’s. She wants to scream, but she just smiles politely and does as she’s told.
Teddy joins her at Madame Malkin’s after Victoire’s got her expensive, classy gown. He keeps glancing over at Victoire and her gaggle of hens who are sitting giggling over some boy.
“You can go over there you know.” She’s irritated he’s staring at other girls when he should be helping her pick out a dress.
“But I promised to help you,” he replies.
“You’re not very good at it,” she all but snaps. He frowns at that but she ignores it as she pushes aside a few more gowns. She wishes terribly that Dad was here, at least he has a reason for spacing out—Mum’s gone off to help Louis with dress robes and shoes and Dad’s with Gran at hers so she’s basically in this alone.
“Sorry,” he says as if he isn’t really all that sorry at all.
“Yeah, fine.” She grabs three things off the rack and asks for a dressing room. The shopkeeper fawns all over her, saying how lovely she’ll look in any of the gowns and she’s polite as she accepts help into them from the woman. Teddy’s sitting in a chair near one of the mirrors when she comes out of the stall in a pale pink, almost white gown. It’s close to what she wanted, and almost as lovely as Victoire’s gown. She’s in love with it when she spies herself in the mirror. Teddy’s mouth goes a little slack and he’s looking at her in an almost different fashion, but she pretends she’s too busy appraising her dress to notice.
Of course Victoire has the final say on her dress. “She’ll look like me and that’s just not on—we’ve got to change it up.”
So she gets stuck in blue—her least favourite colour. Thankfully it’s a nice pale blue and not some dark atrocious number that will make her look pasty.
She wants Teddy to ask her to the ball, but he never does. She finds out he’s taking Victoire the night before and she’s feeling foolish because she’s dateless. Luckily she’s not stag the day of—Martin Canaday asks her and she’s grateful he’s somewhat attractive.
Later that night—after much dancing and fun flirting Martin steals her first kiss and her first kiss turns into her first snogging session.
In the morning Teddy takes note of something that smells suspiciously like omelettes. He finds Toby in his kitchen, and sure enough in the skillet a decent looking omelette sizzles to perfection.
“Morning,” Toby calls brightly.
Teddy grunts out a “Good morning.”
“Coffee?”
“Sounds splendid,” Teddy says as he sits heavily on of the tall chairs at his table.
He’s got a cup of coffee before him, with a trickle running down the white side of the beaker from the hasty way Toby’s sat it before him. Teddy doesn’t complain though, he’s quite glad he didn’t have to get it himself.
Lifting the paper Teddy sees Harry’s grim smile and watches as his adoptive father shakes hands with the current Minister of Magic, the one Harry’s always raving is full of shite. Teddy’s always trusted Harry with these matters and seeing as he’s never been much good with politics he just agrees when Harry starts raving before and after dinner.
When the plate is sat before him he remembers he’s supposed to contact Harry about his current houseguest. Harry’s not likely to be happy over it but it’s better to tell him before the random paparazzi spots them out and weaves a darker tale—as that slag Rita is known to do.
“Anything interesting in that paper?” Toby inquires around a mouthful of omelette.
“If you’re interested in the new Minister then, yes—if not then the crossword is usually all right.”
Toby smiles and Teddy can see a bit of parsley in his teeth. “Nah, probably wouldn’t guess any of the words. I’m not up on current affairs in the United Kingdom.”
“Where are you from?” It’s to the point—something which makes Teddy feel awkward at times but at the moment his curiosity beats out his discomfort.
“New York—upstate near Rochester and Lake Ontario, but Floo to Salem Witches Institute every day for school.”
“You go home every night?”
“Yep.”
“Odd,” Teddy says.
“Mum said the same thing when we enrolled.”
Teddy watches him for a minute. “You sound English—well, English enough—is your mother from around here?”
“Yeah, she’s from some place called Cornwall, I think.” He smiles and adds, “I’ve got a bit of a mixed accent I suppose. She’s still got hers pretty good, and I usually just adopt my accent to those around me. I can’t help it—just kinda happens.”
Teddy nods, he used to be that way with eye and hair colour as a kid and even a bit as a teen—his body’s natural response was to change and adapt to the person nearest him. He’s offended quite a few people over the years due to that fact. He wonders if Toby’s offended others with his quirky response to those around him—Teddy finds it interesting more than offensive.
“Well, you’re almost believable,” Teddy says, finally after a moment of thought, “Until you go thrusting your hand out like you’re the dog’s bollocks.”
Toby snorts a laugh and Teddy grins when he notices he’s shot a bit of orange juice out his nose. “Fuck, that hurt,” Toby declares while he dabs at his nose with a napkin.
Louis comes to collect Toby before Teddy’s dressed. “You’re here at this ungodly hour?”
“It’s nine, Teddy, not four in the morning—which is the time I get up to start cleaning up your pub’s kitchen, I might add.”
“You just did,” Teddy grumbles and then adds, “Where are you taking him?”
“A bit of shopping. I’m going to meet with other butchers.”
“What’s wrong with the current one?” Probably some problem Louis has invented, Teddy’s sure.
“He’s overcharging you.”
“Right,” Teddy says with a wave of his arm, “Well, take him, but don’t wear him out—I’m sure his drool left a scar on my bartop. I don’t want him crashing like that tonight.”
“Later Ted,” Toby calls as he runs out the door behind Louis. He looks far too excited to be going to a butcher than Teddy expects he should be.
“Ruddy brat,” he calls fondly after the disappeared form.
Harry meets him at the pub. Teddy has some of the soup Louis prepared for the lunch meal and bread on a plate for him when he arrives.
“What’s your poison, Harry,” Teddy asks with his usual lazy smile when Harry takes his place at the bar.
“Water, thank you.” Harry looks around. “Well, everything looks intact—I am assuming there is a reason I’m here?”
Teddy leans a hip against his side of the bar and folds his arms, “Yeah, there might be.”
Harry points at him and says, “Teddy,” in the tone that implies he is not looking for Teddy’s usual games.
“All right, so I’ve got-,” he’s interrupted by Toby’s excited shout as he dashes into the pub, stuff in his arms and Louis following him at a sedate pace.
“Teddy,” the boy shouts, “You are not going to believe what I tried today!” Before Teddy can tell him to shut it he’s continuing , “Blood pudding—do you know what’s in blood pudding?” Teddy wants to tell him it’s in the name and call him daft but Toby’s so excited it’s hard to stop him. “And can you believe it didn’t taste like ass?” There’s the American in the boy again. Teddy smiles, a bit tight around the eyes due to the fact this is not how he wanted to introduce his present company to his, er, ward. He hasn’t much time to try and figure out a plan on how to introduce Harry to this new addition to Teddy’s house. Toby’s already doing it for him, like the brash youth that he is, “Hiya, I’m Toby—you look an awful lot like Al Potter, you know, you his dad or something?”
And God isn’t that weird—a kid, in the Wizarding UK, who doesn’t know exactly who Harry Potter is. That throws Harry for a good second and he hasn’t much time to recuperate because Toby is speaking again, “Fucking good drummer, that guy. Shame he didn’t stick with Ashwinders on Ice—then everyone would know he’s the greatest drummer of all time.”
Teddy seriously doubts Al’s the greatest drummer of all time but he’s seemed to have made a very heavy impression on Toby. And if Teddy’s being honest, then yes Al could have been something phenomenal—he’s just too much like his dad for his own good.
“His mother and I believe he had the potential, yes,” Harry’s eyes have gone fond and that’s a good thing Teddy thinks because then maybe he won’t level the bar when Teddy tells him he’s got a runaway from America kipping in his spare room.
“Why’d he quit—never got the full story on that, least where I am,” Harry frowns thoughtfully at that and Teddy wants to kick the kid for being a damn idiot. Less is more he mentally screams in Toby’s direction. It was all over the UK when Al quit Ashwinders on Ice. Teddy can still recall the headline “Straight-laced Malfoy Tames Rebel Drummer Al Potter.” He thought Harry was going to spit fire over that one. They’d finally supported Al—finally—after years of anger over the fact Al left school before his N.E.W.T.s and the fact he left for a band. And then Al drops the bomb he’s leaving his band—his band which was, at the time, signing a contract with Pantheon Records for 45 million galleons with a 5 million galleon signing bonus to make ten albums—two of which were already done—and Al told them he wasn’t going to go to L.A. without Scorpius. Scorpius—the selfish sod as Harry has dubbed him—who refused to go to L.A. because all of his life’s work is in London.
But as bands often do when a drummer leaves—Ashwinders on Ice didn’t suffer much due to the loss of Al, but even Teddy knows their past six drummers will never live up to the Al Potter standard they’d already set. Apparently, Toby knows this as well because he laments how amazing Al is at every opportunity.
“Love,” Harry says in response to Toby’s question, after many deep minutes of consideration. “He quit for love, like all stupid, courageous men do.” Teddy knows there’s a story about Ginny in that line somewhere but he’s not too keen on looking for it at the moment.
“My mum tells me to stay away from snatch for that reason—says it’ll make me stupid in life if I put it before everything else. Tough luck on your son falling for it—rock music will never be the same,” Toby adds solemnly at the end. Teddy’s amused by the strange look on Harry’s face—they all know Al’s nowhere near interested in “snatch”. Hasn’t wanted to see another vagina since he left his mother’s, and Al often jokes hers is the one that put him off them for life—my first scarring memory.
Louis calls Toby into the kitchen—obviously reading Teddy’s body language for the help it’s been silently screaming for, for the past fifteen minutes. Toby goes with a quick pat to Harry’s arm and an “It’s a pleasure to meet the man who made Al Potter.”
When he’s just out of sight Harry turns to Teddy and says, “He’s not from around here is he?”
“New York, he tells me,” Teddy tries for casual but Harry can tell he knows how much shit he’s in.
“Teddy, I’ve got to inform Percy. He oversees Children’s Welfare—not to mention I’ve got to get the Aurors on this as he is a foreign runaway and this is officially an international problem. Not to mention he should be in school and you’ve got him working in a pub—a pub for 18 and overs.” Harry’s tone informs him he’s in deep shit and Teddy tries to play it cool.
Teddy leans against the bar top and hangs his head, “Look, Harry, please—he’s, I don’t even know his story yet—just give me some time.”
“Ted, you don’t even know this kid—how long’s he been here?”
“A day,” he tries to win Harry over with his best smile.
Harry’s eyes go hard, “A clean break is best you realise?”
Teddy frowns, “I just don’t want him to be put in the system.”
“Why, it’s not perfect but it works—you either believe in it or you don’t, we aren’t above the system, Teddy. No matter what some people may believe.” There’s a jab at Scorpius’s father in there somewhere, Teddy’s sure of it.
“I know—but, it’s just—he reminds me of me.” He’s really desperate to be pulling that line out of his book—worse yet he’s surprised by how much he means the words.
“I’ll put it off, for now,” Harry says quietly, after some minutes of consideration, “But I can’t put it off forever.” Then he adds with a fond, memory laden look, “He’s got the same crooked smile you’ve got.”
Mum and Dad divorce when Mum can no longer handle what Dad’s become. He speaks only rarely and his speech is dull when it comes, void of life. He’s never been right in the head—not during Dominique’s life, at least. And she wonders what’s changed—why’s Mum leaving now?
She soon discovers Mum’s been having an affair.
Dominique watches as Teddy lets Victoire find comfort in his kiss, his arms. She’s bitter and resentful at seventeen. Mum’s off in France with her beau, Louis loves him to death because he’s got him summer work with some of the best chefs in the country.
Victoire promises to write Ted at the end of Dominique’s final year—when she’s off to France with Mum, Louis, and the new boyfriend Dominique doesn’t care to meet. It’s all his fault Dad’s lonely now. Dad, who is finally starting to have more days of constant lucidity.
Teddy tells her she should be nicer to Mum and Victoire, and that makes her more angry. Why the fuck should she—they buggered off, but she’s still here with Dad, because someone’s got to be here for him. Fuck Mum if she couldn’t handle it—she shouldn’t have made a vow. And fuck Victoire if she agrees with Mum, what’s she know about selflessness?
She goes out every night—men like to buy her drinks, chat her up, and fondle her exposed legs. She’s got quite a few who buy her expensive things, things she’s always wanted: designer shoes, handbags, dresses, jewellery, accessories. If she keeps up this way she’ll have enough items to be her own shop—that truth depresses more than it thrills.
Dad’s a lost cause she thinks, every time she returns, at the time between dusk and dawn, he’s always awake and staring out the window—looking for a life he can only dream about in solitude. She wishes him happiness, just as she wishes it for herself.
Teddy doesn’t like what she’s doing. He tells her often enough and she snarks back that he should shut it because if he really cared he wouldn’t be bollocks deep in Victoire at every opportunity. He tries to argue but she always shuts him down as she leaves.
Another party, another fake laugh, another pretend lover for the night—she’s become very accustomed to the ritual.
Teddy comes round often—they still are best mates, always will be. But there is an edge to his eyes and he’s looking older than 20 and she’s feeling older than 18. There are things they want to say, but neither of them has the courage. Sitting near his gran’s recently filled grave they hold each other and weep. Eventually the weeping leads to kissing and the kissing leads to panting and the panting leads to them half naked, filling the void of loneliness with the only comfort Dominique knows how to give.
Victoire and Teddy were brief and it’s been ages, Dominique thinks when she’s lying naked in Teddy’s bed listening to his listless sleep, but still she feels as if this is adultery. “He was mine first,” she whispers and curls closer to his back, soothing his stomach with her hands when he sucks in a terrified breath in his sleep. “He was mine first—so I shouldn’t feel so dirty.”
A month passes and Harry doesn’t come to collect Toby. He likes the boy—Teddy can tell. He always smiles fondly when Toby calls out to him, “Ol’ Uncle Harry,” he’s named him. Teddy knows Harry likes it better than Grampy which is what James’s kids have saddled him with.
Teddy likes him, too—he’s a reminder of something he’s almost but not quite forgot.
Then it happens—a picture, innocent little snapshot of the past—Toby’s holding a frame and saying, “Hey, Ted, who’s this chick?”
She’s not more than fourteen in this picture—it’s from the time they went to get their first tattoos. Harry played merry hell over those—Dean’s never quite recovered from Harry’s ire. He takes it—ever so gentle with the shells stuck to the frame. Dominique made it, with shells she’d picked on the shore just meters from her parents' then home.
“Where did you find this?” His voice is soft, fond, and lightly edged with pain.
“That old closet thing full of your clothes.”
“My wardrobe? Really,” he says, “I thought I’d cleared all the pictures out of there.” Hidden them away in boxes in the attic, or at least he thought he had—maybe this was one of the pictures Al has tried to sneak back into his life.
“So,” Toby asks again—strangely he’s buzzing with excitement. “Who is she?”
Teddy smiles, a smile he hasn’t worn in years—Al calls it the Nikita smile—and leans back against the sofa, staring and touching the laughing face. “Nikita,” he says finally and he hands the photo to Toby then points to his younger self. “That dashing rogue there is me.”
“Really,” Toby breathes out dramatically and Teddy is mildly affronted by his surprise. “You look young!”
“I was sixteen, that’s twenty-two years ago,” he groans. “God,” he says tiredly—just now acknowledging the years between his youth and now, “I suppose I was young once.”
Toby laughs and smoothes his hand over Nikita’s face, “She was lovely, wasn’t she?”
Teddy’s smile goes soft again, “She was, indeed.” His eyes are fond once more when he looks at the way her willowy arm wraps about his youthful form when she laughs in the frame he can hear her bright tone in his ear, as if she is close. “She was always my favourite.”
“What happened,” Toby whispers.
“Stupidity,” Teddy says, “Things unspoken—you always figure out what you should have said in the past years after the fact.”
“What kind of things?” Toby wonders quietly.
“I’m sorry. I’m a prat. You’re the best. I love you.” Teddy laughs, “Simple things—seems rather easy doesn’t it, but it’s not—communicating with women is an art I’ve yet to perfect.”
“Can’t you call her or something?” Toby plays with the hem of his baggy shirt.
“She doesn’t want to talk to me—I’ve owled, tried to ring when I still knew her Mirror handle, but she’s done with me, son.” He ruffles Toby’s soft hair—not sure why but it calms him and Toby leans closer to his side and awkwardly tries to give him some form of ‘I’m here for you, man’ comfort. It helps and Teddy’s glad this kid’s here.
When he stands to make dinner Teddy notices Toby lift the frame of the picture, but he doesn’t stay to watch how Toby’s eyes glaze.
During the summer nights the bands come—Teddy’s three on this evening and Dominique comes to help with serving drinks as one of the bands is Al’s—and Al doesn’t bartend when his band plays, he’s usually too high to do anything but beat on the drums. Teddy’s in the small kitchen frying up fish, making burgers, and copious amounts of chips. The orders are magicked to their proper tables as soon as they’re done and more pour in as Dominique writes them down.
Al’s band closes the pub down—the shrill sounds of his “trash metal”(as Teddy’s dubbed it) ringing in their ears long after the set’s been played—at least that’s what Teddy gripes about as they wander away from the pub.
“Fuck, I’m getting old,” he complains as they all head up the road. Al sees them to Teddy’s street before he kilters off to illegally Apparate home—Uncle Harry’s going to ground him again if he’s not careful.
“You’re just twenty-two, Teds—hardly old,” Dominique says as she hugs his arm to her—squishing her breasts against him, purring in her usual way.
“You make me feel older,” he says honestly. He expects her to crack a joke, but she doesn’t. She is unusually silent as they ascent the stairs to his flat.
In the corridor he places his jacket and beanie on the rack—Dominique hangs her jacket up as well and follows him through the flat. In his bedroom she drops her shorts. She’s got no knickers, as per usual, and she slips out of her shirts. Exposing her breasts to the room, her nipples harden from the chill, and she crawls under the covers after him.
He’s lying on his side facing away from her when she presses against him, the warmth of her body invading his skin. “I could make you feel young again,” she whispers—her tongue dancing teasingly after the breath of her words.
Then he’s on her—rolling her down against the mattress, breathing down her soundless moan. She arches against him as his hands ghost her skin “Just this once,” he whispers.
With a smile she repeats, “Just this once.” Only she doesn’t mean it.
Toby is across the table from him with a miserable look on his face when Teddy comes in one evening—it’s the first time in three months Teddy’s seen him so miserable, and it’s the first time he’s missed work.
“All right there, Toby?”
“Yeah, no, I dunno, man.” His speech is fast and cracks with obvious distress.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“Dunno,” he mutters like the mutinous teenager he is. “I just—fuck.”
“Please tell me we don’t have to have the sex talk, because frankly, I am not ready to give that sort of advice.” Teddy feels as uncomfortable as he is sure he looks.
“No, it’s just,” he trails off again. “You know—sometimes I don’t realise how lonely I am, you know?” Teddy does know. He knows rather well actually—he’s been lonely his whole life, and only on the rare occasion is that loneliness not trying to scratch under his skin and seep into his bones. Teddy’s the kind of person who can feel alone in a room full of people.
“I understand,” he says and he wonders if Toby can tell he means it. The silence that drifts between them is charged and Teddy looks up, saying, “Tell me about her.”
“Who?” Toby looks around as if there is supposed to be some clue written in the air.
“Your mother.”
Toby’s eyes go soft and Teddy’d like to think that’s how he looked when he was young and his gran would tell him stories about his own mother. He likes to think he looked that happy and full of wonder when thinking about a woman he’s never known.
“She’s got a great smile.” He’s grinning at Teddy and Teddy thinks if Toby’s mother’s smile is half as bright as her son’s then it truly is a great smile. “And when she laughs it makes the world right.” His long fingers tap against the top of the table and he stares at his bitten down nails as he speaks, “She’s like the coolest person in the universe without even trying. I have to watch out because when she walks into a room everyone notices her—she’s this insanely pretty woman and it’s not just on the outside. Like she’s got this personality that draws people closer—she’s nice, but not that superficial nice like girls I know. She’s honest, and quirky, a bit nerdy, and an insane flirt.”
A lot like her son then, Teddy thinks as he watches emotions shift in the light of Toby’s eyes. He swallows and sits back, looking away and Teddy pretends he doesn’t see that he’s almost crying.
“She’s forgiving—the best kind of forgiving, like no matter how bad you fuck up she still loves you,” Toby finally says thickly.
Teddy smiles, he’s known a few women who are that forgiving and he’s loved all of them dearly. “She’ll forgive you for this,” Teddy says, “Forgiveness is the final form of love.” When Toby looks up he cracks a half grin at him, “I read that in a card once.”
Toby snorts out a laugh. “She may not love me after this.”
“My gran used to say a mother’s love knows no end. Mad as she was at my mum for leaving me and rushing after my dad during the war, she never stopped loving her.” A long pause and Teddy finally asks the question one of them is curious to know the answer to and the other is actively avoiding, “So why did you run off, and better yet how did you run away—you live an ocean away, that takes ages to get a proper Portkey.”
Shifting in his seat Toby looks at the ground, his eyes on his socked feet as he whispers, “My mum’s got a boyfriend.” Teddy waits and finally he says, “He says he’s going to push me out in a few years—when I’m eighteen, because I’m shit and cause trouble apparently and he plans on knocking my mum up and having a nice family.” He looks up and over at Teddy, “And I’m not a part of this nice family equation.”
Teddy sets his face in his hand while he holds Toby’s gaze. “You running away doesn’t keep him from forcing you out, you know—if anything, you did his job for him.”
“I know—I want her to have this nice family, I want her to fall in love and be normal.” He shrugs. “If I fuck that up for her I won’t be able to forgive myself, you know. She’s given me everything—s’the least I could do for her.”
Teddy chuckles. “How terribly selfish of you.”
Toby doesn’t understand now, but one day he will—if anything he’s made her pain greater. Teddy can’t imagine ever being a parent—it seems too damn painful and raw. He’s perfectly fine with being an uncle until the day he dies.
“As for how I got here,” Toby says to break the odd tension in the air. “I was really pissed after Daniel told me he wanted this great wonderful family and I was waiting for my friend Jason, was supposed to return his money, and all the while I kept getting madder and madder and finally I just wished to see my dad. Then a painful yank behind my belly button and here I was.”
Teddy quirks an eyebrow at him. “You’d better get to looking for him, then—she might be with him trying to find you.”
“She’s not,” Toby says softly. “I’ll know when she’s with him.”
Nodding, Teddy decides to let the subject drop. Teenagers know everything and so he doesn’t try to tell this one otherwise.
Part Two
