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Teddy was something of an enigma in their school. He wasn’t a rebel, he only looked the part with his dyed pink hair (or turquoise, depending on the day) and earrings (pitch black plastic bought cheaply with his own pocket money or the sparkling diamond of a family heirloom). Otherwise, he was a good student, a better friend, and the best football player since his godfather, Harry Potter. (Okay, so maybe not the best, but he loved playing wide receiver, even if it didn’t get him as much street cred as playing quarterback like Harry used to.)
As his best friend since they were in diapers (well, she was in diapers, he’d grown out of them), Victoire was his main confidante, his trusty girl next door (literally and platonically). She was beautiful like her mother and smart like her father but in the typical way of teenagers, they would not let her have everything, and so she was unpopular, was never invited out like Teddy, never been kissed, never been on a date. Her father and numerous uncles were thrilled at how unproblematic she was.
Except, of course, she wasn’t. Because Victoire was in love with her best friend, who was going off to college next year, two whole years ahead of her, and who, if he managed to get out of this argument, still had a girlfriend.
“Hello? Hello?” Teddy said into his cellphone before chucking it onto the bed.
His phone screen lit up traitorously as it lay face-up on his checkered sheets, but Teddy ignored it.
Victoire watched him sympathetically (their bedroom windows lined up to face each other almost exactly). She picked up her sketch pad and wrote him a message.
You ok?
Teddy read it through the windows and smiled. He had his own sketch pad (was there anything he couldn’t do?) and wrote back in blue marker. Tired of drama
Victoire pursed her lips in concern. Sorry :(
Teddy shrugged like it was all part of the package, like having a girlfriend meant being accused of cheating once a month and berated for not being attentive enough once a week.
Victoire wanted to tell him to break it off, but she never told him what to do as far as his dating life was concerned because she couldn’t be 100% certain that her advice didn’t come from wanting him all to herself. So she just wrote, I love you. It was a simple, little phrase they said to each other often. They were best friends, after all, and if they had no one else in the world who understood, a little I love you was there to say, ‘I see you,’ ‘I hear you.’ But when she looked up again, Teddy had drawn his curtains for the night.
Come to think of it, Victoire was tired of drama too. He was her boy in a way that no one else had, in a way that truly mattered. So she pushed up her big blue reading glasses (she was always reading so they were always on) and put some Taylor Swift on full volume and danced (badly, but she was alone, so who cares?).
For his part, Teddy suddenly remembered it was Tuesday night, which meant that Victoire had taken that chem quiz she’d been dreading and he’d completely forgotten to ask her how it went. He’d been so wrapped up in — nope, he wasn’t going to think about her now.
He pulled back his curtains and his lips quirked up in amusement. Victoire had never been the most graceful dancer (she could’ve been, but she had no patience for lessons, much to her mother’s disappointment), but she really, er, shall we say, gave it her all. Teddy laughed loudly, and since she couldn’t hear him through the windows, she didn’t stop shimmying or shuffling or whatever move that was that hadn’t been done before because it looked absolutely ridiculous.
Teddy let his curtain fall, a soft smile still on his face.
By morning, he’d resigned himself to a big, dramatic breakup, possibly involving drenching him in some sticky liquid or another, so he wore his most faded t-shirt and worn-out jeans. Victoire was waiting for the bus at the stop outside both their houses.
“Hey,” he said.
She never put her books down so fast for anyone else. “Hey.” A wavy tendril of blonde hair fell over her eyes and wouldn’t fall back, having gotten snagged on the frames of her glasses.
Teddy brushed it back reflexively. “What are you reading?”
“Emma.” Victoire was glad he’d shifted his gaze down to her book and away from her face. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her severe blush.
“Oh, they added that to the required list?” He leaned back on the bench.
“No, that’s just —”
“Just you, of course.” Teddy smiled, his eyes light and teasing.
“You just wish you could read as fast,” Victoire lobbed back easily.
Teddy quirked an eyebrow. “I’d like to see you beat me on the track.”
“You quit track.” And it wasn’t as much fun without him, so Victoire had quit too.
“I still run from time to time.” Teddy shrugged languidly.
Victoire’s mind was a mess of football shoulders, football shoulders, football shoulders —
“Not that I regret quitting,” Teddy continued. “Since you joined the marching band instead, I get to see more of you when I’m on the field.”
“Ye—”
A bright red convertible roared down their street, surely over the speed limit.
Teddy’s eyes widened in surprise as his girlfriend crooked her finger at him coquettishly to get in. He’d thought after their argument last night — well, he supposed there was no point in questioning it.
“See you at school, Vic,” he said.
Victoire waved weakly, wishing she’d inherited her father and mother’s bravery more than anything else. Teddy’s girlfriend, the head cheerleader, was giving her some very intimidating sideways glances.
The bus arrived shortly after. Victoire picked up her backpack and clarinet case and got on.
“Hey, Vicky!” her bandmates greeted her enthusiastically.
“Check out our new uniforms!”
“They’re sick!”
“I can’t believe they made them in time for the actual game for once.”
Victoire laughed, her mind already slipping into a daydream. The game. Teddy. The uniforms had nothing on the cheerleader’s short skirts, but at least she wouldn’t be swaddled in hot and sweaty cotton so that by the time the game ended, she felt disgusting. Maybe he’d run to the bleachers and she wouldn’t feel the need to hide. He’d pick her up in a great big hug and maybe —
“ Victoire! ” Abby, who played the flute, shook her.
“Whoa, what, yeah?” she snapped out of it.
“We’re here!”
School. Right. The game was all the way on Saturday. (It came soon enough and Victoire was a bundle of nerves, thanking every god and deity that the marching band was something of an opening act and once she’d done her bit, she could just enjoy the game.)
“ Go, Teddy! ” she screamed.
“ Let’s go, Knights! Let's win this fight! ” his girlfriend led the rhythmic cheer before launching into a flawless triple backflip.
Victoire became self-conscious of her banshee-like screams so they died in her throat and she was more reserved for the rest of the game. That is until Teddy caught the ball yards away from any opposing players. He took off running and Victoire already knew none of them would catch up to him.
“ That’s my best friend! ” she shrieked. “ That’s my Teddy! Go! Run! Go, go, go — YEAH! We won! We won! We WON! ”
His teammates lifted him up on his shoulders and chanted, “ Lupin! Lupin! Lupin! ”
For Teddy, it was like being on top of the world. When they finally set him down, he went to find his girlfriend.
“What’s this?” He frowned upon seeing her chest to chest with the quarterback.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she drawled loudly, her thick dark lashes flapping as she blinked exaggeratedly. “Did you really think you could get away with ignoring my calls and texts on Tuesday? Did you really think I’d settle for the kind of boyfriend who cares for me so little? We’re over. ”
Teddy bit the inside of his cheek. There was the dramatic breakup he’d been waiting for. In front of all his teammates, the entire cheerleading squad, the marching band, hell, the whole school. He was so done with this. He was so done with her.
“Fine. Okay.” He wished he could come up with a better comeback. Something that would make sure everyone knew what a manipulator she was, but all he could hear was his godfather’s voice in his head, saying, ‘Live and let die’ along with some crap about how the best revenge was living your best life in spite of it all. So he stormed off.
And to think he was going to ask her to Homecoming.
Victoire was somewhat ambivalent the entire week after the game. She had to be, otherwise, she’d never get anything done between stressing about asking Teddy to go with her to Homecoming and daydreaming about dancing with him at Homecoming (Teddy was a great dancer).
It didn’t help that he’d shown up at her doorstep late one night (her parents were out on a date and her siblings were at a sleepover) asking her to make good on her promise to run track with him for old time’s sake.
“Damn, you're fast, Weasley," he caught up with her at the end of their third lap.
"And you're sulking," she turned around to face him.
"If you hadn't quit we might've brought home gold last year."
Victoire shrugged. "You weren't dating She-who-must-not-be-named yet. You needed the moral support on the field and I felt like I owed it to elementary-school-Vicky to pick up the clarinet again. No biggie."
Teddy's eyes widened as he ran a hand through his bubblegum-pink hair. "Kinda biggie… You didn’t have to do that…”
“Well, I certainly didn’t do it so you could mope after winning your first game of the season.” She nudged his elbow playfully, but he only returned the gesture halfheartedly.
“I dunno, I guess… I feel the way everyone feels when someone leaves them for someone else…"
"She's a jerk," Victoire spat, ever the loyal best friend.
"She was my jerk." Teddy smiled wanly. "My nan always says I need to stop dating projects and start dating people."
She looped her arm through his as they started back towards their homes. "You're a good person, who sees good in everyone. I don't ever want you to change as long as you're happy."
"That's the dream…" Teddy sighed. "People think I want to be a professional footballer or actor or whatever, but I just want to be with people who make me happy… like you. "
Something finally fell into place at that moment. Teddy was familiar with the sensation, having the big heart that he did. It meant he was about to fall in love.
Except he wasn't! He couldn't! She was his best friend and two years his junior at a time when that sort of thing mattered because she deserved so much better than a long-distance relationship for however many years they both spent at their respective universities.
So it happened that neither of them ever got around to asking the other to Homecoming.
The night of the party, Victoire was splayed out across her bed with her window open, telling herself it was for the best since she had two essays due on Monday. But then Teddy pulled open his curtains dressed in the most impeccable black suit and bowtie. Her heart sank because if he was going, he likely had a date, but when she saw him pick up his sketch pad, she reflexively reached for hers too.
You going tonight? He asked.
Victoire wrote, No, studying.
Wish you were! He answered.
Victoire was halfway through writing, You’ll have fun with your lucky girl, when Teddy added, Going stag with the lads… Goodnight :)
Victoire gaped at him as he picked up his jacket and left.
She rifled through her box of Teddy-related memorabilia (she was organized like that) and found the I love you note she’d written but never showed him.
“Maman!” She called, taking off her glasses and pocketing the note. “Do you have a dress I could borrow?”
“Oh, now she wants to go to Homecoming!” her mother tsked, although the quirk of her lips gave away the fact that she was secretly pleased. She’d had some of the best moments of her life at dances and didn't want her daughter to miss out. “Come, come, we have to do your hair and makeup first.”
After what felt like hours (but was only half of one), Victoire descended the stairs in a bright white ball gown, silvery heels in one hand, her note for Teddy in the other.
“Doesn’t she look gorgeous, Bill?” Her mother took her picture again and again.
“Maman, stop, please. I’m all nervous as it is.” Victoire ducked her head and tried to hide her face as she put on her shoes.
“Does it have to be a strapless dress?” asked her father.
Her mother elbowed him in the ribs. “Right, let’s go. I’ll drop you off.”
“Don’t drink the punch!” her father warned. “It’s almost always spiked!”
“Yes, Papa!”
“And don’t do the twerk! Especially not in front of a boy!”
Victoire burst out laughing. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Papa!”
Her mother drove her the short distance to the school and promised to pick her up in an hour. Victoire had never been one for parties and if romancing Teddy turned out to be a mistake, well, she didn’t want to have to stay too much longer if that happened.
The gym was packed with students in rhinestone-studded dresses with sheer cutouts, boxy tuxedos in black, white, and gray (and one in shades of cherry red). Victoire walked past them all and kept her head held up high even when people turned to stare at the late-comer dressed like a modern Cinderella. She kept her head held up high because only he was on her mind. He made her brave.
Teddy turned at the suddenly silent corner of the gym and his jaw dropped.
They locked eyes and moved towards each other as though drawn by a magnet, even when his ex attempted to intercept him, he scarcely noticed her. His mind was a mess of just Victoire, Victoire, Victoire… The girl who understood him, who'd always been there for him. And even when others rejected him, he always belonged with her.
Victoire unfolded her sketching paper with clammy hands and shaking fingers.
Teddy read her rounded letters written in permanent marker, the black ink searing into his mind. He reached into his jacket pocket for his matching note.
I love you. It was a simple, little phrase they said to each other often. ‘I see you,’ ‘I hear you,’ and now, 'I belong with you.'
They closed what distance there was left between them and kissed.