[Harry Potter] Lily Luna/Teddy | Fake at the Seams
Title: Fake at the Seams
Summary: Teddy never really had a choice to opt out.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Lily Luna/Teddy
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG; non-graphic violence
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 389
Author's Notes: For the 30 days writing challenge. Prompt #17: Swans, by Unkle Bob. comment_fic: "He didn't ask for this; dealing with being born a werewolf."
He didn't ask for this.
Sure, it's easy enough to put on a smile and crack some jokes. But when you have to do it for the majority of your life, to practice that same grin over and over just to keep people away from worrying about you, it becomes a chore. So much so that when you genuinely smile at something that's funny, it feels fake.
It fucks you over like that. Teddy never really had a choice to opt out.
So he drinks. So he fights. So he comes home with bruises on his cheeks and blood running down his side. It's a lesson in control. To know that the animal is leashed but can be let out in singular bursts. To know that the biggest part of Teddy is human.
Then the days start blurring together. Then the drinks get out of hand, and there are fights that start breaching the barrier between man and wolf.
It's fucked up, but Teddy starts to like it. The swipe of tongue on a cut lip, tasting copper and saliva. The ache in his knuckles after a particularly heavy punch to his opponent's stomach. The purples and blues and yellows that hide under his jeans and t-shirts. He likes to press down on them, saving the newest ones for last. He keeps the bruises like trophies, but lets the broken bones heal.
Then Lily grows up, and starts winding her fingers into his hair, starts pressing soft kisses into freckles, and he fights back the control that he once had. The dull history of fists on his skin fade; he stores them just on the underside of his skin, where Lily can't see them. Bottles of beer are rationed for nights that keep her away at work.
But the wolf is sick of empty smiles and control; their anniversary is on a full moon. He maintains enough consciousness to not change completely, but instead of going home, he's going to the bar. Instead of texting Lily to tell her he's going to be late, he's downing a shot of vodka and asking for more. Instead of noticing James and Albus staring in horror, he's being dragged into the alley and howling in laughter.
He goes home in the morning.
It doesn't surprise him to see that she's not there.
Summary: Teddy never really had a choice to opt out.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Lily Luna/Teddy
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG; non-graphic violence
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 389
Author's Notes: For the 30 days writing challenge. Prompt #17: Swans, by Unkle Bob. comment_fic: "He didn't ask for this; dealing with being born a werewolf."
He didn't ask for this.
Sure, it's easy enough to put on a smile and crack some jokes. But when you have to do it for the majority of your life, to practice that same grin over and over just to keep people away from worrying about you, it becomes a chore. So much so that when you genuinely smile at something that's funny, it feels fake.
It fucks you over like that. Teddy never really had a choice to opt out.
So he drinks. So he fights. So he comes home with bruises on his cheeks and blood running down his side. It's a lesson in control. To know that the animal is leashed but can be let out in singular bursts. To know that the biggest part of Teddy is human.
Then the days start blurring together. Then the drinks get out of hand, and there are fights that start breaching the barrier between man and wolf.
It's fucked up, but Teddy starts to like it. The swipe of tongue on a cut lip, tasting copper and saliva. The ache in his knuckles after a particularly heavy punch to his opponent's stomach. The purples and blues and yellows that hide under his jeans and t-shirts. He likes to press down on them, saving the newest ones for last. He keeps the bruises like trophies, but lets the broken bones heal.
Then Lily grows up, and starts winding her fingers into his hair, starts pressing soft kisses into freckles, and he fights back the control that he once had. The dull history of fists on his skin fade; he stores them just on the underside of his skin, where Lily can't see them. Bottles of beer are rationed for nights that keep her away at work.
But the wolf is sick of empty smiles and control; their anniversary is on a full moon. He maintains enough consciousness to not change completely, but instead of going home, he's going to the bar. Instead of texting Lily to tell her he's going to be late, he's downing a shot of vodka and asking for more. Instead of noticing James and Albus staring in horror, he's being dragged into the alley and howling in laughter.
He goes home in the morning.
It doesn't surprise him to see that she's not there.