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The fairy lights strung between the trees twinkled below like captive stars, their reflections dancing across the leaves as a soft summer breeze stirred them. Down in the garden, swirls of colorful robes twirled in rhythm with the lilting tune of violins. Laughter rippled through the crowd, blending with the clinking of glasses and the faint hum of musical accompaniment.
“It’s so pretty!” Victoire breathed, lying on her stomach beside Teddy, her chin resting on her folded arms. Her blonde hair spilled forward like a spill of liquid silver across the wooden planks of the treehouse floor. From their perch high among the branches—the same treehouse Mr. Lovegood had built for Luna years ago—they watched the wedding reception continue into the night.
“I think Luna has the prettiest dress,” Victoire went on dreamily. “Don’t you think?”
Teddy tilted his head, considering. “It was a little… intense,” he said at last.
Victoire let out an indignant scoff. “It was colorful—you love color! You’re always changing your hair. And she wore a tiara! Tiaras make every outfit better.” She rolled onto her side to face him, eyes bright with conviction. “Besides, she looked so happy. Happy people are always the prettiest.”
Teddy grinned and broke off a piece of the cake slice they’d smuggled from the reception table. The frosting had smeared a little on the napkin they’d used to carry it, but neither of them minded. He passed Victoire a bite with his fork before taking one for himself.
They’d been eager to escape the garden full of adults discussing things that didn’t make sense—politics, careers, and people who’d gone to school decades before. Up here, it was different. They could watch from above, laugh quietly, and make fun of the grown-ups without getting caught. Though, Teddy thought with mild regret, he really should have grabbed another slice of cake.
“Is that your Uncle Percy coming out of the bushes?” Teddy asked, pointing toward a tall, slim figure whose robes were slightly disheveled.
Victoire wrinkled her nose in disapproval. “Uncle Percy is always getting into trouble at weddings. Everyone likes to think Uncle George is the bad influence on us kids, but I think it’s Uncle Percy.”
“I was the flower girl at Uncle George’s wedding, you know,” she added proudly.
Teddy rolled his eyes. “You were the flower girl at all your uncles’ weddings.”
“Not Uncle Percy. He eloped.” Her tone sharpened, full of Weasley indignation. “Because he isn’t as decent as he pretends to be.”
“You’re such a snob,” Teddy teased.
“It’s etiquette!” Victoire huffed. “Your family is supposed to celebrate with you. That’s why we’re here with the Lovegoods.”
“None of us are actually related to the Lovegoods… I think,” Teddy said, frowning a little as he tried to recall one of his grandmother’s long-winded explanations about their family tree. “It’s all very complicated.”
“But Luna’s basically family,” Victoire said firmly. “Just like Neville and Minister Kingsley—and you and your Nan. Especially you. You’re my favorite non-related family member.”
Teddy grinned. “I think we are related somehow… but, like, very distantly.”
“Only because we both come from pureblood families,” Victoire said, rolling her eyes.
“Still counts,” Teddy said with a shrug.
Victoire rolled onto her back, and Teddy followed suit, their view of the glowing party below disappearing as they stared up at the ceiling of the treehouse. Faded wildflowers and dancing pixies were painted across the wood — brushstrokes left behind by a much younger Luna. The colors had dulled over the years, and the paint was beginning to peel at the edges. Teddy felt an itch to reach out and flake off one of the curling bits, but he stopped himself. It wasn’t his to destroy, and somehow, the imperfection felt sacred — like part of the story of the place.
“I think your parents’ wedding must have been really romantic,” Victoire said softly.
“They didn’t have a wedding,” Teddy said. “They eloped. Just like your Uncle Percy.” He turned his head toward her, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You’re kind of a hypocrite for being mad at him if you think my parents were being romantic.”
“It’s different,” Victoire said, frowning as she picked at a splinter in the wooden floor. “I wasn’t born yet to be invited to their wedding. Plus, it was wartime. That’s not the same thing at all.”
Teddy went quiet for a moment. “There aren’t even photos,” he said finally. “I don’t think my mum wore a dress. Nan wasn’t there, so she couldn’t tell me what it was like. They just showed up at the house and said they were married.” He gave a small, thoughtful sigh. “I think it made Nan a bit mad, not being there for it… or for them. But she doesn’t really like to say when Mum or Dad upset her, even when I can tell.”
Victoire rolled onto her side, studying him. “Do you think they would have had a proper wedding after the war? Your mum and dad?”
Teddy shrugged; he could feel his hair shifting colors, probably to the sandy brown color that he recognized in the photos he had of his father. “I’d have to ask Harry. He’d probably know.”
“Well,” Victoire said, brightening a little as she reached over to brush Teddy’s fringe out of his eyes. He always teased her for the bit of snobbishness she’d inherited from her mother, but mostly, Victoire was kind and funny—and she was his best friend. The thought of leaving her behind when he started Hogwarts in a few weeks made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t quite understand.
“Maybe we could plan it,” she went on, her voice growing animated again. “The wedding your parents were supposed to have! We’ve been to so many weddings, we’re practically experts by now.”
“Too many weddings,” Teddy groaned, though there was a smile tugging at his lips. “The only good thing about them is the cake.” He leaned over and stole another bite from the napkin between them. “Luna’s cake is weird, though. Pineapple and carrot? That’s just wrong.”
Victoire laughed. “Remember the cake at Uncle Ron’s wedding? That one was amazing—chocolate with raspberry and those crunchy caramel bits. Your parents’ cake should have crunchy caramel bits too.”
“I don’t think they’d have cake,” Teddy said.
“Why not? Everyone has cake.”
“Harry says Mum never did what everyone else did,” he replied with a small grin. “Maybe it’d be something like a cupcake tower—or a whole table of different pies.”
Victoire’s eyes lit up. “An ice cream sundae bar! That way, everyone could make their own dessert, and it’d match their taste perfectly. And it would be so much fun! Your parents always sound like they were fun, when people tell stories about them.”
Teddy continued to stare back at the peeling flowers on the ceiling of the treehouse as he thought back to one of his earliest memories — being the ring bearer at Harry and Ginny’s wedding. He and Harry had worn matching robes, and Victoire had been the flower girl. Everyone had tried to make them dance together, but they’d run off giggling and hidden under one of the long tables while Hagrid slipped them extra slices of cake. That was the start of their wedding tradition: sneaking away to share dessert while the adults danced.
They were too old for ring bearer and flower girl duties now. James Potter and Ellie Longbottom had taken over those roles for Luna’s wedding, and Teddy figured they were probably fast asleep by now. It was getting late, the music below softening as the night grew cooler.
“How old am I,” Teddy asked suddenly, “at my parents’ wedding?”
Victoire scrunched her nose, thinking it over. “I think you’d be eleven,” she decided at last. “Like you are right now.”
“Isn’t that a bit late?” Teddy frowned. “I imagine their wedding would’ve been right after the war ended.”
Victoire shook her head with an air of certainty. “No, they’d wait—because they’d want you to be part of it. But then they’d get busy, like adults always do, and sort of forget actually to plan their big fancy post-war wedding for years.” She grinned at him. “Then, when you got your Hogwarts letter, they’d finally decide to have their big, fun wedding while you were still home. You’d be the best man, and James could be the ring bearer.”
“And it would be a big wedding?” Teddy asked.
“Yep,” Victoire said confidently. “But not fancy and boring like when we had to go to Minister Kingsley’s wedding. That one was so formal and stuffy.”
“I thought you liked the ice sculptures,” Teddy teased.
“They were very pretty!” Victoire admitted, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. “But sometimes when things are too pretty, you have to be really careful, and then you can’t have fun. Your parents’ wedding would be fun, don’t you think?”
Teddy sat up, shifting until his back rested against the wooden wall of the treehouse. Through the small opening that led to the rope ladder, he could see the soft glow of fairy lights flickering in the distance, like faraway stars.
Victoire was right—everyone always said his parents were fun. His mum was loud and colorful and kind, the sort of person who filled every room with energy. His dad, people said, had a quieter kind of humor, the sort that sneaked up on you when you least expected it. He loved small, harmless pranks and had been a natural teacher, patient and clever. They’d both had so many friends who still spoke about them with a kind of shining warmth that Teddy never quite knew how to name.
So yes, he liked to think Victoire was right. Their wedding would’ve been fun—not a stiff, formal affair in some grand hall with round tables and polite applause, but something alive and full of laughter. Maybe out in a garden like Luna’s, but in the daytime, when everything was bright and colorful. He thought his mum would’ve liked that better than fairy lights and dark skies.
But he would never really know. Sometimes it felt like he was building his parents out of borrowed pieces—other people’s memories, half-heard stories, and his own hopes. He wasn’t sure where their dreams ended and his began.
“Sounds like the party’s dying down,” Teddy murmured. The lights below had dimmed, and the laughter that once bubbled up through the branches had faded into softer, scattered voices.
“Wait!” Victoire suddenly scrambled up onto her knees. “Before we go, we have to do our rankings!”
Teddy groaned but smiled all the same. “All right, all right. Go on, then.”
“Wedding dress?” she prompted eagerly.
“Better than Hannah Longbottom’s,” Teddy said after a moment’s thought, “but not as good as Angelina’s.”
Victoire gasped in mock offense. “Maman still had the best.”
“You say that every time.”
“Well, it’s true!” she huffed. “All right—bridesmaids’ dresses?”
Teddy laughed. “I think Ginny and Hermione are planning to burn theirs as soon as they get home. I overheard Ron and Charlie talking about it. Absolutely awful color.”
Victoire nodded solemnly. “Maman said it was chartreuse—a color you only put people in if you secretly hate them.”
“Best man speech?” Teddy asked, leaning back again.
“I fell asleep halfway through,” Victoire said. “Who picks their ancient grandfather to be best man?”
“Well, not everyone has a world-famous grandfather,” Teddy pointed out.
She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean he can’t be boring.”
Teddy grinned. “And the cake?”
“Horrid,” she declared instantly.
“You ate the whole slice,” he reminded her.
“Well,” Victoire said primly, “it’s still cake.”
They both burst out laughing and agreed that, overall, it had been one of the better weddings they’d ever been forced to attend. Still laughing, they climbed down the rope ladder, the cool night air brushing against their faces.
Victoire skipped ahead, her blue dress and matching shoes glinting in the moonlight. She ran straight into her father’s waiting arms, and Bill scooped her up effortlessly, spinning her once before setting her down again.
“Did you and Teddy enjoy your cake?” Bill asked, smiling.
“It was more vegetable than cake, the English really no nothing about baked goods.” Victoire said matter-of-factly.
Bill chuckled. “You sound just like your mother.”
Victoire beamed at that, clearly pleased, and the two of them, father and daughter, swung their joined hands back and forth as they made their way toward Fleur and Victoire’s younger siblings, who were yawning and clinging sleepily to their mother’s skirts.
Teddy watched them for a moment, the corners of his mouth dropping into a small, unconscious frown. Then he felt a warm, steady hand rest on his shoulder.
“All right, Ted?”
He looked up and found his godfather peering down at him, the soft glow of the lanterns catching in Harry’s glasses.
“Yeah,” Teddy said. “Vic and I hung out in the treehouse.”
“I know,” Harry replied with a smile.
Teddy wasn’t surprised. Harry always seemed to know where he was and what he was thinking. Not in the way parents just sensed things—like how Ron somehow knew whenever Rose had stolen a biscuit from the counter even when his back was turned—but in a way that reminded everyone that Harry Potter had once defeated the darkest wizard of their time and now led the Auror Department. There was a quiet, powerful energy about him that made people take notice. But Teddy never found him intimidating. Harry took care of him. And he loved him.
“Come on,” Harry said gently. “Ginny and I need to get the kids home. Then I’ll take you back to your house.”
“James did a good job as ring bearer,” Teddy said as they started walking. “He didn’t even drop the pillow.”
Harry chuckled. “You and Vic trained him well. The ultimate wedding experts, you two. You know, this might be the last wedding you go to for a while. Luna was the last of my friends to get married—and Ginny’s officially out of brothers.”
Teddy grinned. “So who’s next, then?”
Harry thought it over. “Well… I suppose it’ll have to be you or Vic. You’re the eldest of the bunch now.” He made a face. “Which is a terrifying thought.”
“Don’t worry, Harry,” Teddy said, laughing. “I’m still a kid. I haven’t even started Hogwarts yet.”
Harry’s hand squeezed his shoulder, the gesture turning into a quick side hug. “Good,” he said softly. “Don’t grow up yet, yeah? I’m still a young man, you know.”
The Potter household was always a little too noisy and crowded—especially lately, with baby Lily in the mix—but Teddy liked it that way. It was livelier than his quiet home with just him and Nan. Not that Nan wasn’t fun; she was wonderful. But three small children meant constant commotion, and sometimes, when he was at the Potters’, it was easy to feel like an afterthought amid all the chaos.
Since they’d returned from the wedding, Teddy had been sitting on the sofa near the fireplace, listening to the sounds of the nightly routine drifting down from upstairs—shouts, cries, a crash, followed by hurried footsteps and Harry’s muffled voice trying to keep order.
“I’m sorry, Ted,” Harry said as he appeared on the stairs, looking a bit frazzled and running a hand through his famously unruly hair. “The boys decided to throw a fit instead of getting into their pajamas, and Gin’s upstairs nursing Lily. You’re alright to Floo home, yeah? I’m sorry I can’t see you off like I said I would.”
“It’s okay, Harry,” Teddy said quickly. “I understand.”
Harry gave him a tired but grateful smile. “Thanks, Ted. I really appreciate it. I’ll see you next week, though—your Nan and I will take you school shopping in London.”
Teddy told Harry goodnight and thanked him for taking him to the wedding before stepping into the green flames and Flooing home. When the world stopped spinning, he found himself back in the familiar comfort of his living room. Nan was sitting in her favorite armchair, a book open in her lap. She looked up the moment he appeared and set it aside with a soft smile.
Nan was a beautiful woman—tall and elegant, with a quiet grace that seemed to belong to another era. She was constantly reminding Teddy to stand up straight or mind his manners, but never so proper that she wouldn’t join him for a game of Gobstones, a flight around the garden, or a swim in the nearby pond.
She carried the marks of someone raised in an old, upper-class wizarding family: the refined accent, the simple but fine jewelry, the effortless way she seemed to know everyone at the Ministry, and her unshakable standard for a spotless home and perfectly pressed robes. But Nan wasn’t cold or fussy. Their house was full of warmth—overflowing bookshelves with both wizarding and Muggle classics, the sound of old rock records playing on lazy Sunday afternoons, the smell of flour and butter from homemade pasta or cookies. Teddy’s childhood drawings were framed on the walls, crooked and bright, just where she’d hung them years ago.
She was his family. His whole family. And Teddy often thought he couldn’t have been luckier to have the amazing Andromeda Tonks as his grandmother.
“How was the wedding? Still going on?” Nan asked, marking her page and setting the book aside.
Teddy flopped down onto the sofa, pulling a pillow against his chest as the last of the day’s excitement drained from him.
“Oh, you know the Lovegoods,” he said with a grin. “They’ll probably have some sort of sunrise ceremony next—squawking like fire-breathing chickens or something.”
Nan chuckled softly. “You and Victoire have a good time? I was thinking—perhaps she’d like to join us when we go to Diagon Alley for your school things.”
Teddy hesitated, then shook his head. “I think I’d like that to be just us and Harry, if that’s okay. But maybe Vic could come stay over before I leave for school?”
“That sounds lovely,” Nan said. “I’ll write to Fleur about it.”
Teddy was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing the stitching on the pillow in slow, distracted circles. The fire had burned low, its embers casting soft orange light that flickered across the room. Shadows danced over the framed photos on the mantel—his mum and dad smiling from one of their old pictures, his baby self bundled in his mother’s arms.
“Nan?” he said finally, his voice small in the hush of the living room.
“Yes, dear?”
“Do you think Mum and Dad would’ve had a proper wedding, if they’d survived the war?”
Nan set her book aside and rose from her chair. The faint rustle of her robes followed her as she crossed the room. She nudged Teddy gently until he shifted over, and then sat down beside him. The sofa dipped with her weight, familiar and comforting. She reached over and patted his hand.
“Oh, my Teddy,” she sighed. “Nothing like other people’s happy family moments to make us think about the things we’ve missed, is there?”
“Vic was asking me about it,” he said quickly, trying to make it sound casual. “She thinks eloping sounds romantic—unless you’re Uncle Percy.”
Nan chuckled softly, “I don’t know, Ted. Whether your parents would have had a proper wedding or not. Maybe if I’d nagged your mother enough—which, knowing me, I would have. Dora loved to dress up and dance, so perhaps they’d have had a little celebration. Nothing grand. Remus never liked attention, and he’d probably have felt guilty about the whole thing.”
Teddy frowned, “Why would a wedding make him feel guilty?”
“Because he would’ve thought it was wrong,” she said quietly. “Being a werewolf, he wasn’t supposed to get married.”
Teddy’s brows knitted together. “Yeah, but he wouldn’t have done anything wrong. People’s bigoted disapproval is their problem, not his.”
Nan smiled, eyes soft and shining in the firelight. She pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re a wonderfully sensitive boy,” she murmured. “And you’re absolutely right.”
“It’s not right that they didn’t have a wedding—if that’s what they wanted,” Teddy said quietly, his voice catching a little.
“I think they did exactly what they wanted to do,” Nan replied gently. “There are many what ifs in the world, Teddy, and they can be terribly confusing—and sometimes painful—to think about. But your mother and father loved each other, and they loved you. There are no ifs or buts to worry over when it comes to that.”
Teddy nodded, staring into the flickering firelight. “It was a nice wedding tonight,” he said after a moment. “Luna and Rolf’s. They have friends from all over the world. Some of them even brought exotic animals as guests.”
Nan gave a quiet laugh, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “You would enjoy that, wouldn’t you, my little magizoologist?”
Teddy leaned against her shoulder, breathing in the faint scent of her rose-scented soap and the fire’s lingering remains. For a while, they didn’t speak. The house was quiet except for the ticking clock and the occasional pop from the fireplace. He wondered if his dad would’ve helped him pack for Hogwarts, or if his mum would’ve cried when the train pulled away.
Nan squeezed his shoulder gently. “Now, come on—it’s late. Off to bed with you. And don’t even think about skipping teeth brushing just because you’re too tired to stand.”
“Alright.” Teddy pushed himself up, smiling faintly. “Night, Nan. Love you.”
“I love you too, Teddy.”
“Ted, stop fidgeting—and mind your hair color,” Harry muttered, barely moving his lips as he took a sip of his drink.
“Sorry, Harry,” Teddy grumbled, tugging at his collar. “This Muggle suit is so uncomfortable. Do men really wear these ties every day? It feels like I’ve got a noose around my neck.”
“It’s not that bad,” Harry said, smirking. “You’re just not used to it. Take it off if it bothers you that much.”
Teddy sighed in relief, yanking the offending tie off and shoving it into his pocket. “Whose wedding is this again?”
“I told you—my cousin Dudley’s.”
“And why am I here?”
Harry shot him a look. “Because I can’t bring the kids—they’re too young and might accidentally break the Statute of Secrecy. And I needed tangible proof that I turned out fine and have a functional adult life to ruin my uncle’s day. You, my godson, are the best evidence of that. Oh, and your hair’s still blue, by the way.”
Teddy swore under his breath and closed his eyes, focusing until the bright blue faded into a respectable sandy brown. When he caught his reflection in Harry’s whiskey glass, he looked like a perfectly ordinary Muggle with boring hair. Mission accomplished.
“No offense, Uncle Harry,” Victoire chimed in from behind him, “but your cousin’s wedding is a lot more boring than I thought it would be.”
“I believe,” Harry said dryly, “you’re supposed to thank me for the invitation, not insult the only family I have left.”
Teddy rolled his eyes. “You don’t even like your family, Harry. And you only invited Vic because she threw a fit about wanting to see a Muggle wedding.”
“Did not!” Victoire said, folding her arms.
“Did too,” Teddy shot back.
“I’m about to throw a fit,” Harry muttered, finishing his drink. His eyes flicked across the room. “Ah, there’s Aunt Marge—horrible woman. Stay out of her way unless you want to be insulted by a state-welfare-hating Tory voter.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Victoire said, but Harry was already gone, probably off to rescue Ginny from some painfully dull conversation with the Dursleys.
Before Teddy could make another sarcastic comment, Victoire grabbed his wrist. “Come on, Ted. It’s a wedding—we have to dance.”
“Do we? We don’t usually.”
“Well, new tradition,” she declared, tugging him toward the dance floor. “Now we dance.”
“I don’t know how.”
“I do. It’s easy.” She smiled, sliding one of his hands to her waist and lacing her fingers through the other. “Just follow my lead.”
Teddy’s mouth went dry as his palm settled against the soft fabric of her yellow dress. Fifteen-year-old Victoire Weasley was driving him mad in ways he found utterly mortifying. She was his best friend—and yet they’d been caught in a two-year tug-of-war ever since that kiss at the Quidditch World Cup. Some days they were perfectly normal again. Other days—like now—they were both a tangle of nerves, blushes, and stolen glances.
The Muggle reception hall was dull as anything—beige walls, thick carpet, and flickering yellow lights that gave Teddy a headache. But standing there, heart thudding as Victoire smiled up at him, he barely noticed the monotony. All he could see was her: the girl in the yellow dress with sparkly blue eyes, spinning him dizzy in a room full of strangers.
“What did you think of the best man?” Victoire asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“Not my type,” Teddy said dryly.
“Not into giant, sweaty, ex-boxers turned... whatever a tech executive is?”
Teddy grinned. “Funny, isn’t it? His speech was fine, I suppose. Hard to judge, though—I don’t understand half the Muggle stuff they talk about.”
“My grandfather would be so disappointed in you.”
“Oh, please. Like you know more about Muggles than I do?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said breezily. “Now—how were the bridesmaids’ dresses?”
“Err… shiny?”
Victoire wrinkled her nose. “I think wizard fashion is so much better. When I get married, I’d have dresses made from enchanted fabric—so the colors shift through the day.”
“That would be better,” Teddy agreed, chuckling.
“And this room is just—too clean. Too beige. A proper wedding should have something to do, not just sit and stare at each other.” She shot him a teasing look. “Especially for you, since you’re terrible at dancing.”
“Your fault if I am, Miss ‘I’ll take the lead and show you how it’s done.’”
Victoire laughed, twirling under his arm. “How was the bride’s dress, then?”
Teddy thought for a moment. “So big and puffy it could’ve been used as a hot air balloon. I heard it was her mum’s from the ’80s. Tragic.”
“I know! Why on earth would anyone save that?”
“Would you wear your mum’s dress?” Teddy asked, smirking.
“Of course not.”
“But I thought it was your favorite,” he teased.
“It is! But I’d want my own. Something easy to move in—and in a fun color, like Luna’s.”
“Please tell me you don’t mean Luna Scamander’s dress,” Teddy groaned.
Victoire giggled. “No, not exactly like that one. Just… something that isn’t white.”
“Fair enough.” Teddy leaned in. “So, how was the cake?”
“Dry.”
“So dry!” Teddy agreed. “And I don’t think those icing flowers were edible.”
“They were definitely plastic,” Victoire said, laughing.
“Still ate one,” Teddy said casually.
She gasped between giggles. “Shut up—no, you didn’t!”
Teddy only shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, and that made her laugh harder. Then Victoire’s grin turned sly as she glanced over her shoulder toward the corner of the room.
“How distracted do you think Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry are?” she asked.
Teddy blinked. “Er—why are you asking?” he said, already suspicious.
Without answering, Victoire caught his hand again and tugged him off the dance floor, weaving between tables draped in white linen. “Because,” she said, lowering her voice, “I saw some kind of closet outside the hall. And I think, in addition to dancing, we should add snogging to our new wedding traditions.”
Everything inside Teddy went still except for the wild pounding of his heart. His mind scrambled for something clever or at least coherent to say, but all that came out was a strangled, “Okay.”
Victoire grinned, triumphant. “Good. Come on, then.”
And Teddy—feeling both terrified and utterly, stupidly thrilled—let himself be dragged along.
“Teddy!” Lily squealed the moment he stepped through the door of the Potters’ house, following Harry and Ginny in from what had been, without question, the dullest Muggle wedding in history.
Before he could even take off his jacket, Lily came thundering down the hallway, her red hair flying. “Come to my room! I need to show you something!”
Teddy barely had time to laugh before she jumped into his arms. “Alright, alright!” he said, letting her drag him up the stairs to her small bedroom. The walls were covered in fairy stickers and butterfly decals that sparkled when the light hit them.
“It’s not fair,” Lily said dramatically as she shut the door behind them. “You got to go to a wedding and I didn’t!”
“It wasn’t much to be jealous of, Lil,” Teddy said, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Weddings are very grown-up and very boring.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know,” she huffed, crossing her arms, “because I’m the youngest and no one ever takes me to weddings.” Then she threw her arms open with a proud grin. “So I made my own!”
Teddy looked around and couldn’t help but laugh. Every inch of the carpet was covered in plushies and dolls, arranged neatly into rows like guests. A stuffed unicorn and a one-eyed teddy bear sat at the front, facing an aisle lined with ribbons.
“I see,” Teddy said solemnly. “What a grand occasion. So—who’s the bride?”
“Me!” Lily said proudly.
“Of course,” Teddy nodded. “And who’s the lucky groom?”
“You!” she said without hesitation.
“Me?”
“Yep! Because I can’t marry Al or Jamie—that would be gross. So I’ll marry you instead.”
Teddy chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think that might make Vic a bit upset.”
“Why?”
“Er—it just would,” he said quickly, feeling heat crawl up the back of his neck as memories from earlier flickered unhelpfully in his mind. The image came all too easily — the tiny cupboard that smelled faintly of cleaning supplies and the half-empty glass of bad wine they’d smuggled from a random stranger’s dinner plate. He could still hear Victoire’s laugh echoing softly in the cramped space, still feel the tremor of nervous excitement that made his heart race when their lips brushed against each other, when she looked at him a second too long. It was the kind of moment that left him light-headed, uncertain if what they were doing was wrong or wonderful.
By the time they’d rejoined the reception, Teddy had been sure the entire world could see it written all over him — the red in his cheeks, the guilty grin he couldn’t quite smother. Harry’s pointed glance from across the room only confirmed it. He’d spent the rest of the night alternating between avoiding Victoire’s eyes and desperately wanting to meet them again.
Luckily, Lily wasn’t a mind reader and only shrugged at his fumbling reply. “Well, it’s just pretend anyway. We can’t actually get married.”
“Right,” Teddy said, glancing around at the sea of plush animals staring blankly at him. “Well, the ceremony’s the boring part. It’s just two people standing around, saying stuff, putting on rings, and then they—” he wrinkled his nose dramatically “—kiss.”
“Ew!” Lily squealed, covering her face with both hands. “That’s gross!”
“Exactly. But the party after is the fun bit.” Teddy leaned closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “And do you know the best part?”
Lily’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“The cake,” he said. “Want to raid the pantry and see if we can find one together?”
Her entire face lit up. “Yes! But—” she pointed a finger in warning “—we can’t give any to Al or Jamie!”
“Of course not,” Teddy said with mock seriousness as he stood. “It’s our wedding cake, after all.”
It was a glorious summer day—warm, bright, and so perfectly golden it felt as though magic itself had ensured good weather.
To a passerby, the gathering on the beach might have looked like any cheerful seaside outing. Blankets were spread across the sand, children shrieked with laughter as they chased the rolling waves, and bright balloons and bursts of flowers decorated tables and chairs. Guests lounged in the shade of umbrellas or played games along the shore. It hardly looked like a wedding at all—especially since there was no bride or groom in sight.
Overlooking the celebration from a nearby sand dune was a young man with bright blue hair, the sleeves of his dress robes rolled up. Beside him, a tiny girl hummed happily as she took a big bite of a cupcake swirled in bright pink and purple frosting, her hair changing colors to match her prized treat.
“There you two are!”
Victoire appeared, smiling as she made her way toward them. Her daughter’s eyes lit up.
“Mummy!” Cecilia squealed, waving her frosting-covered fingers.
Teddy grinned as Victoire reached them, her blush-pink dress fluttering in the breeze. The cap sleeves slipped gracefully off her shoulders, and the light fabric brushed just above her ankles, showing her bare feet—because shoes, she had declared, were entirely impractical for a beach wedding. Cecilia’s little flower-girl dress matched her mother’s, both crowned with delicate floral tiaras that glowed in the sun.
“Merlin’s beard, Teddy,” Victoire said, laughing softly as she sat beside him. “Where did she get that cupcake? She’s already had ice cream. She’s only two.”
“Yes, but it’s a very special occasion, isn’t it, Cece?”
Cecilia nodded enthusiastically, and Teddy beamed at her, his chest swelling with pride.
“Besides,” he said, feigning solemnity, “I had to teach our flower girl the secret wedding tradition—sneaking off to eat cake.”
Victoire raised a brow, pretending to scold. “So you brought cake just for her, even though we’re having ice cream?”
“Of course,” Teddy said, pulling out another cupcake. “And I saved one for you.”
Victoire laughed and accepted it, brushing her fingers against his. “Well, it’s hardly a wedding without our tradition, is it?”
“Nope.” He grinned. “Now, rankings. Best man?”
“I’ll admit,” Victoire said, taking a bite of her cupcake, “James was far less inappropriate than I expected. I think he’s finally matured.”
Teddy chuckled. “Don’t give him too much credit. He shoved Lily and Rose into an oncoming wave after the ceremony and ruined their dresses.”
Victoire snorted. “Maybe Auror training will sort him out.”
“I doubt it,” Teddy said. “Bridesmaid dresses?”
Victoire sat up a little straighter, eyes glinting. “I don’t care what Dominique thinks—I liked that none of the dresses matched. It suited the theme perfectly.”
“Right,” Teddy said, nodding seriously. “Circus tent.”
She smacked his arm, laughing. “The theme is color, Teddy.”
“I thought the theme was ‘beach.’”
“The beach is the location, not the theme,” she said, rolling her eyes affectionately. “Honestly, you helped plan the whole thing!”
“I thought you’d realized I just said yes to everything I assumed you’d already approved. It’s part of my charm as a husband. Also, color isn’t a theme.”
“It is for us.” Victoire squeezed his hand where it rested in the sand. “And the wedding dress? What were your thoughts?”
He smiled as he took in the sight of her bridal dress again. “My favorite dress of all time, of course. You’ve outdone them all.” He paused, his tone dropping playfully. “But there’s still one thing left to rank.”
She tilted her head. “What’s that?”
Teddy leaned in and kissed her, tasting the faint sweetness of vanilla frosting still lingering on her lips. His fingers slipped into the soft tangles of her curls, warm from the sun, as the sea breeze danced around them, carrying the laughter and music from the beach below.
“How’s your cake?” he murmured against her smile.
“Delicious,” Victoire whispered back, brushing another kiss against his mouth.
“Stop it, Mummy! Daddy! Stop!”
Cecilia scrambled into Teddy’s lap, her small hands sticky with cupcake frosting, her curls wild from the wind. Teddy burst out laughing, wrapping his arms around Cecilia as she wriggled happily between them. From their spot on the sand dune, he could see the whole wedding party below—family and friends splashing in the surf, children chasing enchanted bubbles, and half-eaten picnic plates glowing in the afternoon sun.
“Well,” Teddy said, as he felt Victoire rest her chin on his shoulder, “I think we’ve officially pulled off the least formal wedding in wizarding history. Really showed everyone how it’s done properly.”
Victoire laughed, her eyes crinkling as she looked out at the colorful chaos below. “I agree,” she said softly. “Exactly how it was meant to be.”
Teddy turned to her again, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “I love you, Mrs. Lupin.”
“I love you too, Teddy,” she whispered, and in that moment—just the three of them, wrapped in sunlight, sea breeze, and the sound of distant laughter—Teddy thought it was the best part of any wedding he’d ever been to, maybe the best part of his whole life.