[TM] 3 AM. [hpsixwords timeline]
May 2nd had been spent in Amsterdam with his godfather and grandmother until it was time to meet up with Victoire once she had been able to sign herself out from school. They had stayed in Germany, mostly, but to keep themselves on the go Teddy had insisted on visiting other countries as well. If they kept going he wouldn't have to talk, he had figured; he wouldn't have to deal with the reality that had slapped him square on the face and had blindsided him in a way that he hadn't been expecting. Not that day. Not from them.
He knew that Vic was worried, of course, as well as his godfather and grandmother, but Teddy couldn't help it. Physically he may look more like his mother and her side of the family, but in a lot of ways he was truly his father's son. If there was any doubt about it at all, the proof had been in the way he acted. That silent anger that kept burning in him, but that he managed to ignore if he kept busy enough and that no one could really get out of him just yet. All those feelings that were also there along with that anger were there was well, but it was easier to concentrate on something else. Keep moving. Don't breathe. Don't think. Just move, and live, and do something before the world could topple itself on top of you.
But Teddy knew better. There was never really a way of outrunning things.
Hadn't the third war taught him better?
Vic had returned to school as soon as Monday rolled around, as scheduled. Teddy had returned to training as well, but the second it was over he apparated home for just a second to grab clean clothes before leaving again. He didn't live with his parents, but that didn't stop him from wanting to be as far away as he could possibly get. Staying wasn't an option, in his book. Not just yet. Not when he felt the way he wanted to lash out at someone, and that someone would be his very pregnant mother that didn't need her son to be as blunt as he could possibly be.
So, at the moment he was in Ireland. For some reason that had seem like a logical choice, so Ireland it was, and since he couldn't sleep he was visiting one of the local pubs. It was late, and he should probably be getting back to his room to sleep, but ... well, he would be sober in the morning. He would make it to his training just fine. And it wasn't that he was drunk, really, he was just ... having fun.
Yes. That was it. Having fun.
This wasn't the first time that he had been "having fun" when he shouldn't be. Following the third war there were nights when he would soothe himself to sleep with a bottle of vodka or firewhiskey, but never anything serious enough to raise concerns. Teddy wasn't one to drink, after all. He knew how to keep up appearances, and keep people believing one thing when he felt and did something else.
Heh. Really. He truly was his father's son.
But right now he wasn't drinking vodka. Or Firewhiskey. No, right now he was just drinking scotch. What was this, he wondered as he swirled the liquid in the tumbler, his third one? He wasn't drunk. Just having fun. Or relaxing. Definitely one of those two. Definitely not the first one.
Suddenly the feel of someone tugging at his hair made him look up, and with a frown he realized that two men were standing next to him, looking very amused. Just the fact that they were smirking was enough to make Teddy frown deeper, but he managed to not hex them across the room.
You are among Muggles, he reminded himself. You picked this. You stick by it.
Right. Muggles.
No magic.
Not that he could. His wand was upstairs in the bedroom he had taken for the next few days.
"...can I help you?"
"That is quite a dye job you've done there. Very ... colorful."
Turning to look at his reflection on the mirror behind the bar, Teddy noticed just how red his hair was.
Huh. Look at that...
"So?" he asked under his breath as he brought the tumbler up to his lips. When he didn't get an answer, just a snort, Teddy motioned for the bartender to get a refill. "You boys hadn't seen hair like this? I like it, actually. Better than turquoise for today."
Okay, so maybe he was a little bit drunk.
"Turquoise? Why in the fuck would you want to dye your hair that color?"
A shrug, and Teddy smirked. "It's colorful. Blindingly colorful, even. You should try it sometime." He paused for a moment, looking over at the two men and his smirk widened even if it lacked humor in it. Since he wasn't sober he didn't fully register the fact that the other men - the older men - were more intoxicated than he was, so Teddy chuckled without bothering to see just how irritated they seemed. "No, you know... Maybe you shouldn't. You wouldn't be able to pull it off."
Before Teddy could take another sip of his drink, the tallest one of the two took him by the collar and jerked him to the side so he could look at him directly. "What, you're trying to be funny?"
Any other day Teddy would have made another joke. Teddy wasn't the kind to start fights at any given moment; he wasn't the one to look for conflict. But, considering the mood that he was in, and the anger that he was feeling, he could feel the Gryffindor in him surfacing. At the same time, he could've sworn he heard Snape hissing something about the stupidity of Gryffindors.
'Sorry, Professor,' he thought bitterly as he clenched his jaw shut while looking up at the man that looked far too smug for his own good. 'Can't fight what's embedded in you.'
And, before anyone could say anything, Teddy shoved the person holding him before punching the friend that had been standing close by. He didn't have to see it to feel the way that his hair morphed into a brighter shade of red, and before he could be approached again he tackled the person onto the wall using his shoulder and pushing against his chest.
Just as he was about to draw back his fist to land a punch, though, someone grabbed him from the back of his neck and threw him towards tables and chairs that made him lose his footing. Whatever pain he could have been feeling was ignored, and as soon as he got rid of the sparks of light that seemed to flash in front of him he stood up and returned to the fight. Which was a bad idea, it seemed, as soon as strong punches landed on him and on his abdomen rather than being the one landing the punches.
Win some and lose some, he figured, his breath ragged as he struggled to make the fight even. That was the thing about Teddy - he was usually a very mellow person, until that particular thing that could make him snap at a moment's notice. The second that happened there was nothing that could hold back the fury that he could unleash, and where or how that fury was unleashed was always the last thing in his mind.
Right now he was angry. Furious, really. At circumstances, at words, at his parents, at things he couldn't change, and at realizations that made everything feel so raw. Which was why anger was good; anger was blinding and numbing. Anger was more logical, he felt, than sudden desperation or disillusionment.
And anger was more helpful, he knew, than anything else right now. Because even if he was fighting against two people - or was it three? he suddenly couldn't tell - he wouldn't back down. It was the Gryffindor in him. Maybe it was the wolf in him that he hadn't fully inherited. Maybe it was everything. Maybe it was nothing.
No, it wasn't nothing. That much he knew.
But that was all he knew, because suddenly he was thrown against a wall despite the shrieking of the woman that had been in charge of the pub for the night. He would feel bad later, probably, but at the moment he didn't. All he could feel was something trickling down his temple and onto his cheek, and his body felt sore, and his wrist hurt, and--
The sound of bottles shattering suddenly made him blink in realization that his wandless magic had gotten out of control, but before he could stop it another bottle was sent flying across the room and onto the head of one of the two men. Was it the one that had first grabbed him? Or was it someone else?
Did it really matter?
As he started to get up, someone took him by the collar again and hauled him up to his feet with such roughness that Teddy was about to start swinging again. He stopped, though, as soon as he caught sight of the uniform the man was wearing.
Police.
Well, fuck.
Not fighting anymore, Teddy let himself get placed in handcuffs and then tossed onto the back of a police vehicle as he ignored the comments the police kept making. About tourists always doing this, not knowing when to stop drinking...
It wasn't until he was in the holding cell, staring up at the ceiling as the blood dried along the side of his face and he flexed his right hand as much as he could so he could get rid of the soreness that he realized he could possibly be in trouble. He had training in the morning. He had appearances to keep up, and doing this would definitely not help.
Just as he was starting to fall asleep the sound of clanking on the bars of the cell made him look up. It was probably a good thing he was laying down and in a cell, he thought wryly, because the person looking at him didn't look amused at all. And of course he wouldn't; he worked for the Ministry of Magic. Teddy had seen him numerous times already there.
"Lupin, right?"
"Potter or Black, actually," Teddy answered as casually as he could, stopping himself from scowling as he looked up at the ceiling again. "It was just a fight. What are you doing here?"
"You used magic in front of Muggles, we have to take care of it. Who do you want me to call for you, kid? Your father, or--"
Teddy didn't even hesitate. "Harry Potter."
And Harry Potter it was. It didn't take long for the sound of the door unlocking to wake him, and with a sigh under his breath he stood and slowly made his way out where his godfather was waiting for him.
"Ready to go?" Harry asked quietly, taking in his godson's appearance. The disheveled red hair, the dried blood on the side of his face, the bruised knuckles, and the swollen lip and cheek.
Instead of answering, though, or meeting his eyes, Teddy just nodded and stepped out of the police station without saying a word. At least not until they were outside, standing in the now empty street. "I'm sorry for making you come here."
Harry didn't take his eyes away from him, and after a small pause he brushed his hair back in the same way that he had done while Teddy was growing up. "Should we stop by St Mungo's before I make sure you get home?"
Muttering, Teddy shook his head as he tried to get rid of the knot that grew in his throat at the familiar gesture of his godfather fixing his hair the way he was doing. It reminded him of his childhood. Of--
"I'm fine. And please don't... Whatever you have to say about this, can it wait? I'm fine. Really. I--" He swallowed, and after a moment, "Can I go home with you? I don't..."
Teddy didn't have to finish; at once Harry nodded and walked with him to the hotel room that had been paid for earlier. Once his things were gathered, they apparated over to Grimmauld and, before Teddy walked over to his bedroom, he hugged his godfather. "Thank you, for everything." Dad. The word was left hanging, but as he gave him a trace of a smile Teddy hoped that he'd know.
Hoping that the plan for that lecture or whatever was coming would be delayed for years and years, Teddy washed his face once in his room and promptly moved over to the bed so he could collapse in it. Rolling over onto his stomach, hugging a pillow like he'd normally do as a child, his eyes trailed over to the clock next to his bed. 3 AM, it clearly marked, and inwardly he groaned as he realized he'd have to be awake in three more hours.
He was exhausted, though, just suddenly drained in every way possible, and in no time he fell asleep. In the morning he would deal with everything. With the sore muscles, and the pounding headache, and the training, and everything else. For now, all he wanted was to sleep.
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He knew that Vic was worried, of course, as well as his godfather and grandmother, but Teddy couldn't help it. Physically he may look more like his mother and her side of the family, but in a lot of ways he was truly his father's son. If there was any doubt about it at all, the proof had been in the way he acted. That silent anger that kept burning in him, but that he managed to ignore if he kept busy enough and that no one could really get out of him just yet. All those feelings that were also there along with that anger were there was well, but it was easier to concentrate on something else. Keep moving. Don't breathe. Don't think. Just move, and live, and do something before the world could topple itself on top of you.
But Teddy knew better. There was never really a way of outrunning things.
Hadn't the third war taught him better?
Vic had returned to school as soon as Monday rolled around, as scheduled. Teddy had returned to training as well, but the second it was over he apparated home for just a second to grab clean clothes before leaving again. He didn't live with his parents, but that didn't stop him from wanting to be as far away as he could possibly get. Staying wasn't an option, in his book. Not just yet. Not when he felt the way he wanted to lash out at someone, and that someone would be his very pregnant mother that didn't need her son to be as blunt as he could possibly be.
So, at the moment he was in Ireland. For some reason that had seem like a logical choice, so Ireland it was, and since he couldn't sleep he was visiting one of the local pubs. It was late, and he should probably be getting back to his room to sleep, but ... well, he would be sober in the morning. He would make it to his training just fine. And it wasn't that he was drunk, really, he was just ... having fun.
Yes. That was it. Having fun.
This wasn't the first time that he had been "having fun" when he shouldn't be. Following the third war there were nights when he would soothe himself to sleep with a bottle of vodka or firewhiskey, but never anything serious enough to raise concerns. Teddy wasn't one to drink, after all. He knew how to keep up appearances, and keep people believing one thing when he felt and did something else.
Heh. Really. He truly was his father's son.
But right now he wasn't drinking vodka. Or Firewhiskey. No, right now he was just drinking scotch. What was this, he wondered as he swirled the liquid in the tumbler, his third one? He wasn't drunk. Just having fun. Or relaxing. Definitely one of those two. Definitely not the first one.
Suddenly the feel of someone tugging at his hair made him look up, and with a frown he realized that two men were standing next to him, looking very amused. Just the fact that they were smirking was enough to make Teddy frown deeper, but he managed to not hex them across the room.
You are among Muggles, he reminded himself. You picked this. You stick by it.
Right. Muggles.
No magic.
Not that he could. His wand was upstairs in the bedroom he had taken for the next few days.
"...can I help you?"
"That is quite a dye job you've done there. Very ... colorful."
Turning to look at his reflection on the mirror behind the bar, Teddy noticed just how red his hair was.
Huh. Look at that...
"So?" he asked under his breath as he brought the tumbler up to his lips. When he didn't get an answer, just a snort, Teddy motioned for the bartender to get a refill. "You boys hadn't seen hair like this? I like it, actually. Better than turquoise for today."
Okay, so maybe he was a little bit drunk.
"Turquoise? Why in the fuck would you want to dye your hair that color?"
A shrug, and Teddy smirked. "It's colorful. Blindingly colorful, even. You should try it sometime." He paused for a moment, looking over at the two men and his smirk widened even if it lacked humor in it. Since he wasn't sober he didn't fully register the fact that the other men - the older men - were more intoxicated than he was, so Teddy chuckled without bothering to see just how irritated they seemed. "No, you know... Maybe you shouldn't. You wouldn't be able to pull it off."
Before Teddy could take another sip of his drink, the tallest one of the two took him by the collar and jerked him to the side so he could look at him directly. "What, you're trying to be funny?"
Any other day Teddy would have made another joke. Teddy wasn't the kind to start fights at any given moment; he wasn't the one to look for conflict. But, considering the mood that he was in, and the anger that he was feeling, he could feel the Gryffindor in him surfacing. At the same time, he could've sworn he heard Snape hissing something about the stupidity of Gryffindors.
'Sorry, Professor,' he thought bitterly as he clenched his jaw shut while looking up at the man that looked far too smug for his own good. 'Can't fight what's embedded in you.'
And, before anyone could say anything, Teddy shoved the person holding him before punching the friend that had been standing close by. He didn't have to see it to feel the way that his hair morphed into a brighter shade of red, and before he could be approached again he tackled the person onto the wall using his shoulder and pushing against his chest.
Just as he was about to draw back his fist to land a punch, though, someone grabbed him from the back of his neck and threw him towards tables and chairs that made him lose his footing. Whatever pain he could have been feeling was ignored, and as soon as he got rid of the sparks of light that seemed to flash in front of him he stood up and returned to the fight. Which was a bad idea, it seemed, as soon as strong punches landed on him and on his abdomen rather than being the one landing the punches.
Win some and lose some, he figured, his breath ragged as he struggled to make the fight even. That was the thing about Teddy - he was usually a very mellow person, until that particular thing that could make him snap at a moment's notice. The second that happened there was nothing that could hold back the fury that he could unleash, and where or how that fury was unleashed was always the last thing in his mind.
Right now he was angry. Furious, really. At circumstances, at words, at his parents, at things he couldn't change, and at realizations that made everything feel so raw. Which was why anger was good; anger was blinding and numbing. Anger was more logical, he felt, than sudden desperation or disillusionment.
And anger was more helpful, he knew, than anything else right now. Because even if he was fighting against two people - or was it three? he suddenly couldn't tell - he wouldn't back down. It was the Gryffindor in him. Maybe it was the wolf in him that he hadn't fully inherited. Maybe it was everything. Maybe it was nothing.
No, it wasn't nothing. That much he knew.
But that was all he knew, because suddenly he was thrown against a wall despite the shrieking of the woman that had been in charge of the pub for the night. He would feel bad later, probably, but at the moment he didn't. All he could feel was something trickling down his temple and onto his cheek, and his body felt sore, and his wrist hurt, and--
The sound of bottles shattering suddenly made him blink in realization that his wandless magic had gotten out of control, but before he could stop it another bottle was sent flying across the room and onto the head of one of the two men. Was it the one that had first grabbed him? Or was it someone else?
Did it really matter?
As he started to get up, someone took him by the collar again and hauled him up to his feet with such roughness that Teddy was about to start swinging again. He stopped, though, as soon as he caught sight of the uniform the man was wearing.
Police.
Well, fuck.
Not fighting anymore, Teddy let himself get placed in handcuffs and then tossed onto the back of a police vehicle as he ignored the comments the police kept making. About tourists always doing this, not knowing when to stop drinking...
It wasn't until he was in the holding cell, staring up at the ceiling as the blood dried along the side of his face and he flexed his right hand as much as he could so he could get rid of the soreness that he realized he could possibly be in trouble. He had training in the morning. He had appearances to keep up, and doing this would definitely not help.
Just as he was starting to fall asleep the sound of clanking on the bars of the cell made him look up. It was probably a good thing he was laying down and in a cell, he thought wryly, because the person looking at him didn't look amused at all. And of course he wouldn't; he worked for the Ministry of Magic. Teddy had seen him numerous times already there.
"Lupin, right?"
"Potter or Black, actually," Teddy answered as casually as he could, stopping himself from scowling as he looked up at the ceiling again. "It was just a fight. What are you doing here?"
"You used magic in front of Muggles, we have to take care of it. Who do you want me to call for you, kid? Your father, or--"
Teddy didn't even hesitate. "Harry Potter."
And Harry Potter it was. It didn't take long for the sound of the door unlocking to wake him, and with a sigh under his breath he stood and slowly made his way out where his godfather was waiting for him.
"Ready to go?" Harry asked quietly, taking in his godson's appearance. The disheveled red hair, the dried blood on the side of his face, the bruised knuckles, and the swollen lip and cheek.
Instead of answering, though, or meeting his eyes, Teddy just nodded and stepped out of the police station without saying a word. At least not until they were outside, standing in the now empty street. "I'm sorry for making you come here."
Harry didn't take his eyes away from him, and after a small pause he brushed his hair back in the same way that he had done while Teddy was growing up. "Should we stop by St Mungo's before I make sure you get home?"
Muttering, Teddy shook his head as he tried to get rid of the knot that grew in his throat at the familiar gesture of his godfather fixing his hair the way he was doing. It reminded him of his childhood. Of--
"I'm fine. And please don't... Whatever you have to say about this, can it wait? I'm fine. Really. I--" He swallowed, and after a moment, "Can I go home with you? I don't..."
Teddy didn't have to finish; at once Harry nodded and walked with him to the hotel room that had been paid for earlier. Once his things were gathered, they apparated over to Grimmauld and, before Teddy walked over to his bedroom, he hugged his godfather. "Thank you, for everything." Dad. The word was left hanging, but as he gave him a trace of a smile Teddy hoped that he'd know.
Hoping that the plan for that lecture or whatever was coming would be delayed for years and years, Teddy washed his face once in his room and promptly moved over to the bed so he could collapse in it. Rolling over onto his stomach, hugging a pillow like he'd normally do as a child, his eyes trailed over to the clock next to his bed. 3 AM, it clearly marked, and inwardly he groaned as he realized he'd have to be awake in three more hours.
He was exhausted, though, just suddenly drained in every way possible, and in no time he fell asleep. In the morning he would deal with everything. With the sore muscles, and the pounding headache, and the training, and everything else. For now, all he wanted was to sleep.
w.c. 2,254