Watch Me (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 19)
Title: Watch Me (After the Flaw, Oligarchy: Chapter 19)
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Rating: R for language and sexual content
Summary: Series three brings many surprises
Notes: If you haven't already, please take my reader's poll regarding my posting schedule.
I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.
Blood Traitors / Previous Chapters / In Hogsmeade
"...And looking ahead, it is going to be cold for Chelsea's match at Riverside tomorrow night. Superstar goalkeeper Anton Moore is hoping to get off the worst goals allowed streak of his career, and he'll be doing it against The Boro in temperatures at or below three degrees Celsius at match time. You will, of course, be able to listen to that on BBC London radio. Looking ahead to the week, December is definitely here, with temperatures--"
"This is nice," said Hermione Caroline as she twisted open the jar of marinara sauce. "We should do this more often. Harry, could you get the garlic bread out?"
"On it," said Harry, opening the oven door and pulling out the pan. "Ron, grab the salad, would you?"
"Sure, give me the hard job," said Ron darkly.
"We should do this more often, absolutely," said Harry. "On, you know, nights where it's not technically work. Watch Me nights, or something."
"These are Watch You nights, Harry," said Ron, his head stuffed completely into the refrigerator. "Where's the lettuce and carrots and all that healthy stuff?"
"In the bag on the bottom shelf," said Caroline, dumping the jar onto the pasta.
"They put this stuff in bags?" said Ron, pulling out the salad mix. "Don't have to chop anything?"
"No, it's all right there," said Caroline. "Aren't we Muggles great?"
"Brilliant," said Ron with a relieved smile. "You never want to put me in charge of the sharp things, trust me."
"But can you handle scissors?" she asked with a sly grin. "Or do I need to get a pair of plastic safety ones from primary school?"
"Neither. Diffindo," he said with a flick of his wand, slicing open the plastic bag.
"Is it ready?" asked Teddy Lupin, coming into the kitchen with Hermione Jean. "Good timing, Byrne's rehashing the top news."
"Food's on, dear," said Caroline, kissing Teddy on the cheek. The five grabbed plates from the table and began to fill them with the cheap, but tasty, dinner.
"I think it's a great idea, Teddy," said Jean, continuing a conversation the two were having in the living room. "When did you say you're going to do it?"
"Well, it's not definite yet," said Teddy, scooping the pasta onto his plate. "The producers are still a little iffy."
"I think it's fantastic," said Jean. "It would really give witches and wizards a fresh perspective of the Muggle experience."
"What's this then?" asked Harry.
"Shakespeare," said Teddy. "I think I've talked the board into putting on Midsummer or The Tempest this spring."
"And it could be so educational for the audience, as well," Jean continued, "especially if you do Midsummer. Think about it: the play was written almost one hundred years before the Statute came into being. For all we know, his original plays could have involved actual magical creatures!"
"I wouldn't go that far," said Harry. "I mean, if that were true, we'd know something about it."
"That's just part of the Statute, though," said Jean , with building excitement. "Wizards and witches not only went into hiding, but they did their best to change any documentation of their past exploits with Muggles. Of course they'd make Muggles think that Shakespeare's plays were one hundred percent fiction."
"But fairies?" said Ron. "They're so... tiny. How could they be seen from the audience?"
"Okay, maybe no actual fairies were involved in the play," Jean admitted. "But it's certainly possible that Shakespeare had seen one or two throughout his life. The fairies in Midsummer may very well be based on actual fairies. But think about it: Bottom could have truly been Transfigured. Prospero could have been an actual wizard. King Hamlet could have been a real ghost!"
"The potion from Romeo and Juliet?" Teddy suggested as the group moved into the living room. "Based on the Draught of Living Death?"
"Exactly!"
"She's getting into edutainment mode again, Harry," Ron muttered. "We have to head her off at the pass before she gets a full head of steam going."
"Too late," said Harry. "We're just going to have to deal with it, at least until the programme starts."
"--Victoria Duke doesn't go anywhere without her BURST," blared the advert from the television, video of a young raven-haired woman outrunning an explosion and then chugging something from a florescent-painted can, "and you can see them both in Star Bomb, in cinemas January 13. Go to burstdrink.co.uk/starbomb to see exclusive footage, interviews and games, as well as Victoria's sexy new photo shoot--"
"I'm still impressed that you're here, Harry," said Caroline. "Considering how much you hated the idea of this show when it first came around..."
"I still don't like it," Harry shrugged. "But it is... interesting. Like in primary school, they'd show us two pictures and we had to find the differences? This is kind of like that, I guess."
"Except it's our lives," said Ron with a snort. "Weird."
"Okay, website's up," said Caroline, setting the laptop onto the arm of the couch. "They have a running commentary during the episode," he explained to the older visitors. "You know what that is, right? Like on DVDs?"
"Indulge the old fogies," Harry smirked. "That all started a few years after we had already left Muggle Land."
"On DVDs they bring in actors or directors or whatever to do a separate audio track over the original film," Teddy elaborated. "So you get, you know, insider knowledge about behind the scenes stuff. They've been going a step further lately. They have Tanaka and a few of the voice actors sitting at computers during the episode typing real-time commentary as it's airing on television."
"Do you think we might get more information from it?" asked Ron.
"Wouldn't hurt," said Caroline. "I have some software running that saves the text as it runs, so if they let something slip, then we'll have it on -- oh!"
"What?"
"OmegaCon!"
"Whazzat?"
"Just posted on the message board," said Caroline, tapping her finger to the computer's screen. "Jimmy Porter people are going to be at OmegaCon, first weekend of January. Simon Tanaka, Genevieve Thompson, France Clancy. It'll be their first convention appearance since the programme started."
"Then we'll be there," said Hermione Jean, scribbling the date down on her parchment.
"What's an OmegaCon?" asked Ron.
"Are they going to be the only three?" Jean continued, asking Caroline. "Any mention of the infamous Tsunami?"
"Nope," said Caroline, leaning in to study the screen. "Which isn't surprising. He's never shown his face in public, even when he was just a lowly webcomic writer. Why start now?"
"Programme's on," said Teddy, pointing to the screen, where an overhead shot of London came on. As dramatic music played over the speakers, the subtitle Twelve Years Ago flashed across the bottom as the camera swooped down to the streets and alleys.
---------
Feet running on pavement. Running scared. Stumbling through the streets of London.
Feet walking calmly behind. Calm, but with a purpose. With a destination. With a target.
The pursued knows he is running for his life. Sweat pours down his chubby face. He looks over his shoulder, his eyes wide with terror.
The pursuer clutches a wand in his hand. Clutched tightly, red energy sparking from the end.
The pursued sprints into a busy section of downtown. People everywhere, none aware of the world around them.
The pursuer follows. His greasy dark hair hangs limply around his pallid, scruffy face. His eyes glow as red as his wand, and his grin is that of a man lost to insanity.
The pursued cannot run any further. He's no match for what is coming. All he can do now and turn and face his fate with his head held high.
He turns. Raises his wand and points it at the madman. The madman stops and points his wand at the victim.
"You bastard! They trusted you, and you betrayed them! You murderer! I'll kill you!"
"I'd like to see you try. You thought they suffered? When I'm done with you, you'll be begging to join them."
Magical energy pours from both wands simultaneously, red from one, blue from the other. The bolts connect in mid-air, pushing each other back and forth in a mystical battle of wills. The pursued's face twists with exertion. The pursuer clutches his wand with both hands, planting his front foot and thrusting the wand forward, as though stabbing the tip into an invisible wall.
The Normalian crowd watches the spectacle in awe. Some, aware of the danger that they find themselves in, quickly escape. Others are helpless to move, their eyes glued to the focal point of the two beams, which is growing larger, brighter, and more unstable with each passing moment.
The point begins to shift. The pursued's eyes widen in fear as it begins to move towards him. His mouth opens.
He screams.
Cut to the skies above London, where a massive explosion rips through the city.
Cut back to the street. Bodies are strewn everywhere. Blood splatters coat the buildings. In the middle of the smoking crater, only a single arm, wand still clutched in its hand, remains.
The pursuer is the only survivor. He stands victorious over the massacre, his red eyes glowing triumphantly.
His mouth parts in a maniacal smile. He laughs. And laughs. And laughs.
---------
"Good Lord," said Jean as the camera panned across the animated gore. "Do they really allow this much... violence on television these days?"
Ron gave Harry an uncomfortable glance. Sure enough, his jaw tense, his hands gripping the arm of his chair a little too tightly.
"It's all fake, Harry," he said. "You know how many things they've changed already."
"I know," Harry said hoarsely. "I know..."
Ron could understand Harry's anger. While he had tried his best to keep out of the spotlight in the last twenty years, Harry and many others had done their best to clear the name of Sirius Black in the public eye. Many newspaper articles had been written in the Prophet and the Quibbler proclaiming his innocence in the crimes that had sent him to Azkaban, and Kingsley had made a public statement soon after the war had ended publicly absolving Sirius of all charges.
Some accepted the new information, and now considered Sirius Black as an innocent man. Others, however, didn't.
"Look at it this way," Hermione had explained to him once. "Witches and wizards spent twelve years being told that Sirius Black was a mass murderer. Then they spent three years being told that he was an escaped mass murderer. Then he died. That's fifteen years of knowing he was evil, and zero years knowing the real him. We can tell the world as much as we want about Sirius, but too many people have spent too many years knowing one thing. It's very hard to change people's minds like that."
Harry had put it better. "Where there's smoke," he had said hopelessly, "too many people think there's fire."
"He looks possessed," said Teddy as the opening credits crossed the screen. "That would make sense for the story. They've had Kadaver as a major character in the first two series. They're going to want to find a way to get him involved. You know, beyond just showing off a servant."
"They kept that scene vague, too, did you notice that?" Caroline pointed out. "They did a good job not showing any of the faces during the dialogue. Who knows who was saying what? It's good creative tension, Harry, you have to admit. It'll be an interesting plot twist when they reveal that Sirius wasn't the murderer."
"If they do," said Harry with a sneer. "Who knows what else they're going to change? And its not like we could do anything about it if they did. No defamation of character if it's all fiction, right?"
"You don't have to stay if you're uncomfortable, Harry," said Jean. "The four of us can handle taking any notes."
"No," said Harry, readjusting himself in his chair. "If they're doing anything I don't like, I'd rather they do it in front of my face than behind my--"
Harry cut off, interrupted by the ringing doorbell.
"Who's that?" Caroline asked, confused. "We're not expecting anyone, are we?"
"Not that I know," said Teddy, standing up. "Maybe a salesman. I'll get it."
Teddy left the sitting room, the credits ending on the television and the scene shifting to Jimmy Porter's street. Subconsciously, he found his hand trailing to his pocket, where his wand was set to strike.
You're too paranoid, mate, he mentally chided. Ever since Antaeus, you think Death Eaters are gunning for you around every corner.
Yeah, well, Luna and Charlie are both proof that there's still danger out there. Better safe than sorry.
So he pulled his wand out of his pocket as he approached the Lupins' front door. "Who is it?" he asked, pressing himself against the door but not unlocking it. Even if it was no one, the last thing he wanted was to have a Muggle see his wand.
"It's me," came a female voice.
Vic?
---------
"This is a bad time," said Victoire tensely.
"No, it's not," said Ted. "Actually, you want to come in? We're eating pasta and watching Porter."
"Hurry up, Ted!" came Ron's voice from the sitting room. "You're gonna miss Harry inflating his aunt!"
"This is a bad time," Victoire repeated, looking down the street for an escape route.
"What's wrong?" Ted asked.
Victoire looked up at Ted's concerned face. Steeled herself.
"Look, can we talk for a minute?" she asked, pulling her jacket self-consciously tight around herself. "Somewhere without Aunt Jean?"
"Um, sure," said Ted, glancing back inside. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Victoire said, sounding to her own ears like she was anything but fine. "Can we, um..."
"Yeah, hang on...."
Ted turned around and went back into the house to get his coat. From outside, Victoire could hear the muffled conversations between Ted, Caroline, and whoever else was inside. Even though it was only a few moments, it stretched into forever in Victoire's mind.
Leave now, she thought. This is stupid, you shouldn't be here, leave now.
"Just ask him about his vision," she said under her breath. "Ask him about the woman with the cat face, see what he remembers from that night, that's all. He doesn't need to know about your dream, just ask him about his."
But even as she heard the footsteps coming back to the door, Victoire nearly turned on her heel and Apparated into the December night.
"Got my coat," said Ted as he closed the door behind him.
"You're not going to, um, miss anything?" asked Victoire.
"No, we're recording," said Ted. "We record every episode."
"Sounds like you're becoming fans," said Victoire smugly.
"Well, I'll admit it has its good scenes," Ted shrugged. "The programme's a huge success everywhere, and when I try to watch it as an unbiased viewer I can understand why. But I know that it's... strange. Harry doesn't like it very much."
"Wouldn't think he would," said Victoire. "Look, you don't have to leave, I can come back another time."
"You need to talk to me, right?" asked Ted.
"Yeah, I do."
"Something you don't want Jean to hear?"
"I'm not sure," Victoire admitted. "Better safe than sorry, I guess."
"Is it something that can be talked about in Muggle territory?"
"Well, not like a coffeehouse, or anything," said Victoire. "I mean, it's nothing much, really--"
"Let's just take a walk around the block, then," said Ted, motioning Victoire down the front walk. "Then you can come in after you talk about the things that you don't want Jean to hear, alright?"
"I really shouldn't. Mum and Dad will wonder where I am."
"Okay," said Ted with a shrug. Stuffing his hands in his pocket, the two walked down to the sidewalk in silence, Victoire allowing Ted lead the way. It was cold. Colder than Victoire expected, colder even than when she left Shell Cottage. But her nerves were keeping her shivering, so that would probably keep her warmer, she wagered. She was having a hard time looking at anything but her feet on the sidewalk. After a minute of walking, Ted spoke.
"I won't ask how you're doing."
Victoire looked up. "What?"
"You're probably sick of everyone asking," said Ted with a small smile. "And even more sick of trying to answer the question with something more than fine."
"I'm the only sane survivor of a dark wizard attack," Victoire said quietly. "It's hard to explain how I feel, you know?"
"I could only imagine."
"You don't want to imagine, trust me," she said. "But thank you for not asking."
"We haven't seen you since you've been back," Ted continued.
"I know," said Victoire, absently brushing her short blond hair behind her ear before remembering that her ear was buried beneath her cap. "I've been... Well, I guess I've been having a hard time seeing a lot of people."
"Yeah," said Ted. "But I just want you to know that we're here for you, you know? Hermione and I."
"I know..."
"You can come over whenever you need to," he said. "If you ever need to get away from the Cottage, we're here. And we won't talk about anything that happened if you don't want to. It can be watching television or playing games or just using our spare bedroom for a nap or for the night."
Sleeping in your house, probably not a good idea.
"Thanks," she said.
"So what did you need to talk to me about?"
Victoire bit her lip nervously. Looked back down at her feet.
Just ask him about the dream and get it over with.
"I wanted to ask you about the cat woman."
Ted stopped walking and turned to her with a look of bemusement. "The what?"
"The cat woman..."
"You mean like from Batman?"
"Could you shut off the nerd thing for just a minute?" Victoire asked seriously.
"Not without the proper access codes," Ted said with a joking smirk.
"Harry said that you had dreamt about a cat woman the night of the attack."
"The night of the -- oh!"
"Are we on the same page now?" Victoire asked.
"I think so," said Ted slowly. "But I never told him that it was a woman."
"Oh," Victoire said. "Well, um, I meant cat person..."
"Okay," said Ted. "Yeah, I did have a dream about a... cat... person, yeah."
See? she thought. This isn't so hard, is it?
"How much do you remember about the dream?"
"Um, not much?" said Ted, rubbing his arm absently. "I mean, I remember what she looked like, but that's about all."
"You remember what she looked like..."
"Hard to forget," he said with a nervous shrug. "It was... um... intense... Plus I heard about the attack the next morning, I just had to tell Harry about the dream. I scribbled down every detail that I could, but I didn't need to. I still remember it. Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you want to know?" he asked. "Harry said that you didn't see anyone there that night with any kind of mask. Are you remembering something that you forgot earlier?"
"I... I don't... I don't know!" she stammered defensively. "I just want to know?"
Ted looked at her hard, studying her. Smooth response, Vic, Victoire thought bitingly, knowing that Ted wasn't completely convinced by her answer.
Wow, and I wonder why that would be?
"All right, yeah, I remember what she looked like," said Ted, looking up and down the empty street. "I can show you, if you want."
"Show? Oh! Right!" said Victoire. "The showing... I forgot you... can... show..."
"Do you want me to?" he asked, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head, effectively hiding his face from anyone who happened to be looking out their window.
"Yeah," Victoire said uncertainly. "Yeah, okay..."
It's just a coincidence, she rationalized. It'll be some black cat or a Siamese cat, or something completely different than OH GOD!
"It is time for the next exercise.
"Drive them out, then attack.
"Leave none to remember.
"Who are you?"
She thought she could handle it. She thought that the dream that night didn't have an effect on her (at least, she corrected, not that part of the dream). But as she stumbled backwards at the sight of the black and orange feline face staring at her from beneath Ted Lupin's hood, felt herself trip on the edge of the sidewalk, she knew that she was wrong.
Ted moved fast, his Chaser reflexes taking over. He jumped forward, slipping his hands beneath Victoire's armpits before she hit the ground.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his face quickly shifting back to its normal condition.
"Nothing," Victoire replied quickly, composing herself.
"Bullshit," Ted said. "I've done monster faces at you tons of times when we were kids. Way worse than that, and you barely flinched. So what gives?"
"Nothing gives," Victoire said.
"You're hiding something," said Ted, grabbing her arm gently. "There's something you're not telling me, or telling Harry or Jean or anyone. What is it?"
"I'm fine."
"You're not a very good actress, you know."
"It might... I don't know," Victoire said, suddenly feeling her grasp of the situation, of her whole reason for being here tonight, slip. "Are you sure you don't remember anything else about that dream?"
"No, I don't."
"Nothing at all?"
"Nothing at all," said Ted. But did his eyes slip away from her face when he said it? Did he hesitate a little too much?
Why do I suddenly feel like I'm not the only one hiding something? she thought.
Just stop flittering about and say something!
"I didn't see anyone in a cat mask that night," she said. "But I... I dreamt about one, too."
Now it was Ted's turn to be taken aback. "You... You did?"
"Yes, I did," she said.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"Consider yourself told," she said flatly.
"But if we both saw someone in the dream..."
"Then it might be a thing, yeah," said Victoire. "That's why I'm here. There might not be anything. I know the rest of my dream didn't have anything to do with that night, and didn't give me any clues about who the cat woman was. Besides, woman in a mask? Not exactly something Magical Law Enforcement can use to narrow down a suspect. Kind of an obvious reason to wear the mask in the first place. I just wanted to know what you remember about yours, and I can see if I can find anything connected with the attackers or with Uncle Charlie or Luna or anything."
"I told you, I don't remember anything..."
"You did," she said, stepping forward, "but I don't believe you. I'm not the only one hiding something. What was it?"
Ted hesitated. Looked back down the street towards the house. Bit his lip nervously. Unconsciously, his hair was shifting colors: Red, black, green, purple, dark blue...
"Please," Victoire begged, now taking his arm. "If you can't, you can't, but if you know anything that can help Uncle Charlie, anything that could help find their attackers, I need to know."
"It's... It's nothing that could help..."
"Ted, please!"
Ted took one last glance back to the house.
"Let's walk," he said shortly, tugging on her arm to guide her.
"Okay..."
The two walked in silence under the halogen streetlamps, the December sun already three hours set. Victoire wondered where they were going, if there was a coffeehouse nearby that Ted was aiming for. But as they neared the corner, she realized that they were heading towards Clapham Common.
I know it's not exactly busy on a cold night, she thought as they crossed the street. But why are we going somewhere where Muggles might be able to hear us?
But as Victoire turned around and looked back from where they had come, towards the Lupin's house, which was now out of her sight line, she realized that they weren't moving to get away from Muggles. He was moving to get away from everyone in the house. From his wife and family.
What are you hiding, Teddy Lupin? she thought. Her stomach was doing somersaults, and she started wondering if she should just call it a night before she got in too deep into... into whatever it was she was getting into.
"I was at the Potters'," Ted said quietly. "Not in Wimbourne, though; I was at Grimmauld Place. In my old room. Remember it?"
"Yeah, I do," said Victoire, a reminiscent smile crossing her lips despite her previous fears. "Quidditch posters and Pokemon bed linens, right?"
"No, Pokemon toy chest," said Ted with a chuckle. "Power Rangers or Spider-Man linens, more often than not."
"You're such a Muggle..." she teased, and Ted laughed nervously.
"It was a stupid dream to start," he continued. "You know how dreams are. Just taking whatever's in your brain, tossing it into a cauldron, and stirring. Kreacher was giving me morphing lessons in my old bedroom, I was eating cotton candy, and Madam Lovegood was doing the waltz with... Indiana Jones."
"What?" Victoire laughed.
"Swear to Merlin," said Ted. "Hat and whip and everything."
"All right, I can safely say that Indiana Jones wasn't there that night, either," she said. "We're in the clear so far."
"Yeah, probably..." he said, trailing off and looking around the Common's lit paths. There weren't a lot of Muggles walking tonight, and most of them seemed to be in their own worlds, either in conversations or in headphones.
"So is that it?" she said, knowing the answer before she asked it. "Is that the big hide?"
"No, it wasn't," he continued. "The, um... the scene changed. Room disappeared, Kreacher and Indy and whatever. I was in the... I was in the Greenhouse at Hogwarts, and... and... God, I shouldn't be saying this, I really really shouldn't..."
"Keep going," said Victoire, her mouth now dry, her heart beating harder. The Greenhouse? Greenhouse Three? She dreamt about the Greenhouse that night, too! Was there something there? Something important? Something connected to the attack?
An antidote! her mind raced. Maybe there's some ingredients at Hogwarts that can make a potion to help Uncle Charlie! Professor Longbottom's always been crazy about that huge, nasty plant, maybe--
"I was in the Greenhouse," said Ted, his eyes firmly planted on the ground now. "I was there, and... everyone was there. Harry and Ginny and Neville... and Hermione... and... and..." he swallowed, not able to continue.
"And me," Victoire breathed, the full realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. She froze in her tracks, staring at him with her eyes wide. "I was there, too, right?"
With a painful grimace, Ted nodded.
"Oh my God," she whispered, her gloved hand rising to her mouth. "We made love," she said. "We... We..."
"In the dream, yeah," he said. "We... had sex. It happens a lot, I guess. I have dreams about you. It's just... my brain. Doing its stupid dream thing. Please, Vic, please don't think bad of me," he said desperately. "Hermione, she... I know it's not cheating, because who can control their brain when they're asleep, you know? But I know she wouldn't like that I'm thinking about... I mean... I'm not... you..."
"I had the same dream."
Ted stopped in mid-stammer. "What?"
"I had the same dream that night," she said. "We were... and then..."
"Then the cat woman showed up," said Ted.
"And then I woke up," they both said in unison.
"Oh, God," said Ted, the color draining from his face (and his hair). "What the hell is happening?"
"I don't know," said Victoire, shaking her head hard. "I don't..."
"I'm getting in your head," said Ted, looking around desperately for a bench before his legs gave out completely. "Somehow I'm... I'm seeing your dreams."
"Or I'm seeing yours," Victoire corrected, following him to the bench. "No... That's not quite right..."
"No, it's not right!" Ted agreed. "I'm married, I have a wife who I love more than anything in the world, I shouldn't be dreaming about you! It has to be me going into your head."
"I shouldn't be dreaming about you, either!"
Ted didn't respond, but simply leaned forward, his hands covering his face but not quite hiding his eyes, wide with shock.
"I shouldn't be dreaming about you," Victoire said quietly, putting her hand on Ted's back. "But I am. And you're dreaming about me. What does that mean?"
"I don't know," he said, voice muffled by his gloves. "There's some kind of connection between us. This isn't the first time I've dreamed about you, either. I'm sure we could compare notes, but--"
"It's not the first time for me, either," Victoire said, her heart racing.
"Some kind of bond," he said. "But it's important."
"It is..."
"We're both dreaming of the same cat woman. We both dreamed about her on the night of the attack. That has to mean something. She has to mean something. She has to be related to what happened to Luna and Charlie."
"Oh," Victoire said, deflating. "Of course... That's, um... that's what I meant... I guess..."
Ted looked up, grasping her other meaning. "Vic, I'm sorry," he said. "This... This whatever that's happening with us, it can't-- It doesn't mean-- Look, I love Hermione..."
Victoire stood up suddenly. "I should go."
"What?"
"I should leave," she said, her voice quaking as she walked away. "I should leave it was stupid of me to ask I should have just--"
"Vic, wait!" said Ted, following her. "Vic, we have to figure this out!"
"What is there to figure out?" she cried. "Ted, the last two years I've been doing nothing but trying to forget about you! But I keep dreaming about you, about us, and it won't stop!"
"Vic--"
"And now I find out that you're having the same dreams?" she said, the tears flowing now. "That you've been dreaming about you and me together and it doesn't mean anything to you?"
"It does mean something to me!" Ted cried. "Vic, I... I dream about you, and I care about you. But I wake up and I see Hermione and--"
"I know," Victoire said, wiping her freezing cheeks with the back of her hand. "You love her, I love you, it's a whole damn mess and it needs to stop."
"There's a connection," Ted explained. "I don't know what it is, and neither do you."
"I know what it is," she said, stepping towards him despite herself. "And I can't... I can't stop it. I can't stop thinking about you. Or you can't stop thinking about me."
"I know," Ted said, putting his hand on her cheek. And there was something in that touch. She felt it. They had only kissed once, two years ago, but there was a familiarity to this. A comfort to this. Like two lovers...
Stop it! It's nothing! You're building your hopes up!
But she knew that it was more than nothing. They had plenty of opportunities to kiss, plenty of opportunities to be close. And they had followed through with it on numerous occasions--
In your head! In your dreams!
In their heads. In their dreams. In that world, those dreamscapes, they had plenty of practice.
She felt herself leaning in. Felt her toes pushing herself up. Towards his face. Towards his lips.
She kissed him. She felt him respond to her. Felt his tongue slip into her mouth, his hand sliding up her side, touching her through her jacket in new,
(old)
unexplored
(familiar)
places.
Felt him pull away.
"No," he gasped, stepping back from her reach. "No, Vic, I'm so, so sorry, but I can't..."
Victoire closed her eyes and turned away. He was right. He couldn't. Neither could she. What was it that she had said all those years ago? "If you end up back with HC, I'll love you for it. If I can't have you, then I want you to have her."
But didn't he also say "If I wake up one day with you more there than she is..."?
Shut up.
"This needs to stop," he said, daring himself to move closer again (but not too close). "Vic, we need to figure out what's happening to us so it can't happen anymore."
"Yeah," she said hoarsely. "Yeah, this needs to... This needs to stop..."
"Okay, um, yeah," he said uncertainly. "Um, where were you? In the dream?"
"In the greenhouse, just like you."
"No, I mean, your position."
"With my back to you," she said before she could stop herself.
"Right..." he said, his eyes growing hazy and distant as he trailed off. Victoire had a sneaking suspicion that he was thinking about the same thing she was
hand down bare stomach, fingers through tight curled blond hair, caressing swollen--
"What I mean!" Ted said, pulling himself back to reality with a jolt. "What I mean... um... were you... um... were you watching it from the outside, or were you seeing it from your own eyes?"
"Through my own eyes," Victoire said, trying to pull herself back, as well, and only partially succeeding. "I was seeing through my own eyes, I was... feeling... everything..."
Her eyes closed against her will, remembering, savoring...
"Yeah," Ted droned, losing himself again. "Um... yeah... So did... uh... I..."
"I came as soon as I woke up," she said dreamily. "I do that a lot..."
Oh, God! Why are you telling him this?
She opened her eyes to see him close to her again. Her hand slid helplessly up his leg, feeling a growing bulge in his pants.
Ted exhaled shakily. "I... Vic... I..."
"Shhh," she breathed, pressing her body against his.
"Something's happening..." Hands on the small of her back. Lips on her neck. Teeth...
"I know," she said, losing herself in him. "I know..."
"Vic..."
"Oy! Get a room!"
Victoire and Ted were both pulled back to reality at the sound of passing laughter.
"Shut up about that! We were gonna get a free show!"
"Yeah, show us your tits, baby!"
"Show us your teabagging skills!"
The three teenage Muggles, obviously tanked up, staggered past, taking glances back at Ted and Victoire and laughing riotously. The reaction of the hooligans had a clarifying effect, and the two jumped apart from each other like they had been touched with a Stinging Hex.
"Oh God..." Ted groaned, turning away with his head in his hands.
"Oh God," Victoire agreed.
"I love Hermione!" Ted said to himself. "I love her, this isn't me, this isn't happening, I love her."
Victoire nodded helplessly, collapsing on the bench. She felt like she was going to vomit; her stomach was twisting in her guts.
How could you do this to yourself? To him? To them?
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm a... I'm a horrible..."
"You're not!" he insisted. "I was doing it, too. Oh, God..."
"What do we do?" Vic asked, wanting to grab his hand, knowing she couldn't. "Teddy, what do we do?"
"We find out what's happening," Ted said. "We find out whatever this connection is, find out what the cat woman has to do with it, and get rid of it. Vic, I care about you, I do, but this isn't me and you know that..."
"I know," said Victoire, her eyes unable to meet his. "So... I don't know anything about this kind of thing, and you don't..."
"We'll have to find someone who does."
"Not Aunt Jean, please!" Victoire begged. "If she knew about this..."
"No, no family," Ted said with a nod, "I agree. It... Not yet. I mean, if we can find out about the cat woman, yes, but..."
"Are you, um," Victoire said, her mouth drying and her stomach doing another flip, "are you going to tell HC?"
"Not if I don't have to."
God, you're making him keep secrets from his wife! What have you gotten yourself into?
"So who else is there?" he continued. "Who can we talk to?"
Victoire opened her mouth, but closed it right away. The first person who she could think of to talk to, the first person that she could confide in about her personal life and who was well-versed in paranormal behavior, was currently being shipped to Hogwarts from St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward. Right now, Luna Lovegood was in no condition to button her own jeans, let alone figure out the intricacies of mental bonds and psychic premonitions.
"Who helped Uncle Harry when he was hooked to Voldemort?" she asked instead. And as she asked it, she felt a touch of disappointment roll through her. Of course it was stupid to think that she and Ted had something special just because their brains were connected. You could have a link to your mortal enemy just as easily as you could to your one true love.
It didn't have to mean anything.
"Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape," said Ted with a shake of his head. "Both of them are, obviously, unavailable."
"Maybe Professor Skryer?" suggested Victoire. "Or, um, what's the name of their friend, the Divination teacher at Beauxbatons? Patil?"
"Maybe," said Ted skeptically. "It'd be hard to find a time when Hermione's not... Damn it, I hate this! I hate hiding from her!"
"What about Mrs. Finnigan?" Victoire said, perking up. "She might be able to help. She's a Diviner, isn't she?"
"It's a side gig," Ted said. "But... Yeah... That might work. She'll be discreet."
"Okay," said Victoire. "Yeah, okay, Mrs. Finnigan. That... That works."
"Okay, good," said Ted, putting the conversation to rest. "I'll, um, I'll keep in touch with you then, and we'll find some time to see her. The sooner the better."
"Yeah," said Victoire, sighing. "Sooner the... yeah."
"I should go," Ted said. "I should go home. They're all wondering where I went, I'm sure."
"Wait," said Victoire, grabbing his chin and twisting it to the left, examining his neck. Good Lord, did she actually give him a hickey?
"Hold still," she said quietly, looking around to make sure they were alone before pulling her wand from her coat pocket and touching it to Ted's neck.
"Oof," he said as the love bite began to fade. "That's cold!"
"You're in the cold," she said flatly. "Plus I'm saving your arse from my stupidity. So don't complain."
"You have an odd variety of spells in your arsenal, Miss Weasley."
"Nate and I taught it to each other at Hogwarts," she said. "Your girlfriend was off-campus, you didn't have to worry about hiding stuff from your professors."
"Lucky me," he said with a sigh.
"Can I ask you a really stupid question?" she blurted out while finishing up her work. "I swear it's relevant."
"Okay?"
"Do you have a mole on your bum?"
Ted pulled away, his neck now clean, and gave her a questioning look. "Where's this coming from?"
"It might help!" she said, her face turning bright red. "I mean, I've never seen you naked in real life, but if I'm seeing things in my dreams that I'm not supposed to know--"
"Do you have a mole right over your left nipple?" Ted asked. "In, like, the two o'clock position?"
"Ten o'clock," Victoire said, blushing more furiously now. "I mean, when I'm looking in the mirror."
"Then, yes, I have a mole on my bum," he said.
"I like that mole," she said, her voice barely audible.
"I like that mole, too," he admitted. "I mean, yours, on your... um..."
"We should go," Victoire said quickly. "Before I get the urge to jump your arse again."
"Yes!" said Ted, standing up far too fast to be casual. "We should... go..."
The two stood face-to-face, awkward yet comfortable in each others' presence. Victoire knew that she should turn away, but also knew that she couldn't escape Ted's eyes. Knowing what he knew, knowing what they knew about each other, what they'd done to each other, with each other for so long without ever realizing.
She wanted to forget him. Wanted to move on. But this knowledge made it so hard to even turn away from him right now.
Please turn away, Teddy Lupin, Victoire willed. Please. I'm so weak around you...
Ted Lupin lingered, and Victoire Weasley lingered, and they both knew that things weren't going to be as easily fixed as one single visit with Lavender Finnigan.
Blood Traitors / Previous Chapters / Holidays in Hogsmeade
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Rating: R for language and sexual content
Summary: Series three brings many surprises
Notes: If you haven't already, please take my reader's poll regarding my posting schedule.
I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.
Blood Traitors / Previous Chapters / In Hogsmeade
"...And looking ahead, it is going to be cold for Chelsea's match at Riverside tomorrow night. Superstar goalkeeper Anton Moore is hoping to get off the worst goals allowed streak of his career, and he'll be doing it against The Boro in temperatures at or below three degrees Celsius at match time. You will, of course, be able to listen to that on BBC London radio. Looking ahead to the week, December is definitely here, with temperatures--"
"This is nice," said Hermione Caroline as she twisted open the jar of marinara sauce. "We should do this more often. Harry, could you get the garlic bread out?"
"On it," said Harry, opening the oven door and pulling out the pan. "Ron, grab the salad, would you?"
"Sure, give me the hard job," said Ron darkly.
"We should do this more often, absolutely," said Harry. "On, you know, nights where it's not technically work. Watch Me nights, or something."
"These are Watch You nights, Harry," said Ron, his head stuffed completely into the refrigerator. "Where's the lettuce and carrots and all that healthy stuff?"
"In the bag on the bottom shelf," said Caroline, dumping the jar onto the pasta.
"They put this stuff in bags?" said Ron, pulling out the salad mix. "Don't have to chop anything?"
"No, it's all right there," said Caroline. "Aren't we Muggles great?"
"Brilliant," said Ron with a relieved smile. "You never want to put me in charge of the sharp things, trust me."
"But can you handle scissors?" she asked with a sly grin. "Or do I need to get a pair of plastic safety ones from primary school?"
"Neither. Diffindo," he said with a flick of his wand, slicing open the plastic bag.
"Is it ready?" asked Teddy Lupin, coming into the kitchen with Hermione Jean. "Good timing, Byrne's rehashing the top news."
"Food's on, dear," said Caroline, kissing Teddy on the cheek. The five grabbed plates from the table and began to fill them with the cheap, but tasty, dinner.
"I think it's a great idea, Teddy," said Jean, continuing a conversation the two were having in the living room. "When did you say you're going to do it?"
"Well, it's not definite yet," said Teddy, scooping the pasta onto his plate. "The producers are still a little iffy."
"I think it's fantastic," said Jean. "It would really give witches and wizards a fresh perspective of the Muggle experience."
"What's this then?" asked Harry.
"Shakespeare," said Teddy. "I think I've talked the board into putting on Midsummer or The Tempest this spring."
"And it could be so educational for the audience, as well," Jean continued, "especially if you do Midsummer. Think about it: the play was written almost one hundred years before the Statute came into being. For all we know, his original plays could have involved actual magical creatures!"
"I wouldn't go that far," said Harry. "I mean, if that were true, we'd know something about it."
"That's just part of the Statute, though," said Jean , with building excitement. "Wizards and witches not only went into hiding, but they did their best to change any documentation of their past exploits with Muggles. Of course they'd make Muggles think that Shakespeare's plays were one hundred percent fiction."
"But fairies?" said Ron. "They're so... tiny. How could they be seen from the audience?"
"Okay, maybe no actual fairies were involved in the play," Jean admitted. "But it's certainly possible that Shakespeare had seen one or two throughout his life. The fairies in Midsummer may very well be based on actual fairies. But think about it: Bottom could have truly been Transfigured. Prospero could have been an actual wizard. King Hamlet could have been a real ghost!"
"The potion from Romeo and Juliet?" Teddy suggested as the group moved into the living room. "Based on the Draught of Living Death?"
"Exactly!"
"She's getting into edutainment mode again, Harry," Ron muttered. "We have to head her off at the pass before she gets a full head of steam going."
"Too late," said Harry. "We're just going to have to deal with it, at least until the programme starts."
"--Victoria Duke doesn't go anywhere without her BURST," blared the advert from the television, video of a young raven-haired woman outrunning an explosion and then chugging something from a florescent-painted can, "and you can see them both in Star Bomb, in cinemas January 13. Go to burstdrink.co.uk/starbomb to see exclusive footage, interviews and games, as well as Victoria's sexy new photo shoot--"
"I'm still impressed that you're here, Harry," said Caroline. "Considering how much you hated the idea of this show when it first came around..."
"I still don't like it," Harry shrugged. "But it is... interesting. Like in primary school, they'd show us two pictures and we had to find the differences? This is kind of like that, I guess."
"Except it's our lives," said Ron with a snort. "Weird."
"Okay, website's up," said Caroline, setting the laptop onto the arm of the couch. "They have a running commentary during the episode," he explained to the older visitors. "You know what that is, right? Like on DVDs?"
"Indulge the old fogies," Harry smirked. "That all started a few years after we had already left Muggle Land."
"On DVDs they bring in actors or directors or whatever to do a separate audio track over the original film," Teddy elaborated. "So you get, you know, insider knowledge about behind the scenes stuff. They've been going a step further lately. They have Tanaka and a few of the voice actors sitting at computers during the episode typing real-time commentary as it's airing on television."
"Do you think we might get more information from it?" asked Ron.
"Wouldn't hurt," said Caroline. "I have some software running that saves the text as it runs, so if they let something slip, then we'll have it on -- oh!"
"What?"
"OmegaCon!"
"Whazzat?"
"Just posted on the message board," said Caroline, tapping her finger to the computer's screen. "Jimmy Porter people are going to be at OmegaCon, first weekend of January. Simon Tanaka, Genevieve Thompson, France Clancy. It'll be their first convention appearance since the programme started."
"Then we'll be there," said Hermione Jean, scribbling the date down on her parchment.
"What's an OmegaCon?" asked Ron.
"Are they going to be the only three?" Jean continued, asking Caroline. "Any mention of the infamous Tsunami?"
"Nope," said Caroline, leaning in to study the screen. "Which isn't surprising. He's never shown his face in public, even when he was just a lowly webcomic writer. Why start now?"
"Programme's on," said Teddy, pointing to the screen, where an overhead shot of London came on. As dramatic music played over the speakers, the subtitle Twelve Years Ago flashed across the bottom as the camera swooped down to the streets and alleys.
---------
Feet running on pavement. Running scared. Stumbling through the streets of London.
Feet walking calmly behind. Calm, but with a purpose. With a destination. With a target.
The pursued knows he is running for his life. Sweat pours down his chubby face. He looks over his shoulder, his eyes wide with terror.
The pursuer clutches a wand in his hand. Clutched tightly, red energy sparking from the end.
The pursued sprints into a busy section of downtown. People everywhere, none aware of the world around them.
The pursuer follows. His greasy dark hair hangs limply around his pallid, scruffy face. His eyes glow as red as his wand, and his grin is that of a man lost to insanity.
The pursued cannot run any further. He's no match for what is coming. All he can do now and turn and face his fate with his head held high.
He turns. Raises his wand and points it at the madman. The madman stops and points his wand at the victim.
"You bastard! They trusted you, and you betrayed them! You murderer! I'll kill you!"
"I'd like to see you try. You thought they suffered? When I'm done with you, you'll be begging to join them."
Magical energy pours from both wands simultaneously, red from one, blue from the other. The bolts connect in mid-air, pushing each other back and forth in a mystical battle of wills. The pursued's face twists with exertion. The pursuer clutches his wand with both hands, planting his front foot and thrusting the wand forward, as though stabbing the tip into an invisible wall.
The Normalian crowd watches the spectacle in awe. Some, aware of the danger that they find themselves in, quickly escape. Others are helpless to move, their eyes glued to the focal point of the two beams, which is growing larger, brighter, and more unstable with each passing moment.
The point begins to shift. The pursued's eyes widen in fear as it begins to move towards him. His mouth opens.
He screams.
Cut to the skies above London, where a massive explosion rips through the city.
Cut back to the street. Bodies are strewn everywhere. Blood splatters coat the buildings. In the middle of the smoking crater, only a single arm, wand still clutched in its hand, remains.
The pursuer is the only survivor. He stands victorious over the massacre, his red eyes glowing triumphantly.
His mouth parts in a maniacal smile. He laughs. And laughs. And laughs.
---------
"Good Lord," said Jean as the camera panned across the animated gore. "Do they really allow this much... violence on television these days?"
Ron gave Harry an uncomfortable glance. Sure enough, his jaw tense, his hands gripping the arm of his chair a little too tightly.
"It's all fake, Harry," he said. "You know how many things they've changed already."
"I know," Harry said hoarsely. "I know..."
Ron could understand Harry's anger. While he had tried his best to keep out of the spotlight in the last twenty years, Harry and many others had done their best to clear the name of Sirius Black in the public eye. Many newspaper articles had been written in the Prophet and the Quibbler proclaiming his innocence in the crimes that had sent him to Azkaban, and Kingsley had made a public statement soon after the war had ended publicly absolving Sirius of all charges.
Some accepted the new information, and now considered Sirius Black as an innocent man. Others, however, didn't.
"Look at it this way," Hermione had explained to him once. "Witches and wizards spent twelve years being told that Sirius Black was a mass murderer. Then they spent three years being told that he was an escaped mass murderer. Then he died. That's fifteen years of knowing he was evil, and zero years knowing the real him. We can tell the world as much as we want about Sirius, but too many people have spent too many years knowing one thing. It's very hard to change people's minds like that."
Harry had put it better. "Where there's smoke," he had said hopelessly, "too many people think there's fire."
"He looks possessed," said Teddy as the opening credits crossed the screen. "That would make sense for the story. They've had Kadaver as a major character in the first two series. They're going to want to find a way to get him involved. You know, beyond just showing off a servant."
"They kept that scene vague, too, did you notice that?" Caroline pointed out. "They did a good job not showing any of the faces during the dialogue. Who knows who was saying what? It's good creative tension, Harry, you have to admit. It'll be an interesting plot twist when they reveal that Sirius wasn't the murderer."
"If they do," said Harry with a sneer. "Who knows what else they're going to change? And its not like we could do anything about it if they did. No defamation of character if it's all fiction, right?"
"You don't have to stay if you're uncomfortable, Harry," said Jean. "The four of us can handle taking any notes."
"No," said Harry, readjusting himself in his chair. "If they're doing anything I don't like, I'd rather they do it in front of my face than behind my--"
Harry cut off, interrupted by the ringing doorbell.
"Who's that?" Caroline asked, confused. "We're not expecting anyone, are we?"
"Not that I know," said Teddy, standing up. "Maybe a salesman. I'll get it."
Teddy left the sitting room, the credits ending on the television and the scene shifting to Jimmy Porter's street. Subconsciously, he found his hand trailing to his pocket, where his wand was set to strike.
You're too paranoid, mate, he mentally chided. Ever since Antaeus, you think Death Eaters are gunning for you around every corner.
Yeah, well, Luna and Charlie are both proof that there's still danger out there. Better safe than sorry.
So he pulled his wand out of his pocket as he approached the Lupins' front door. "Who is it?" he asked, pressing himself against the door but not unlocking it. Even if it was no one, the last thing he wanted was to have a Muggle see his wand.
"It's me," came a female voice.
Vic?
---------
"This is a bad time," said Victoire tensely.
"No, it's not," said Ted. "Actually, you want to come in? We're eating pasta and watching Porter."
"Hurry up, Ted!" came Ron's voice from the sitting room. "You're gonna miss Harry inflating his aunt!"
"This is a bad time," Victoire repeated, looking down the street for an escape route.
"What's wrong?" Ted asked.
Victoire looked up at Ted's concerned face. Steeled herself.
"Look, can we talk for a minute?" she asked, pulling her jacket self-consciously tight around herself. "Somewhere without Aunt Jean?"
"Um, sure," said Ted, glancing back inside. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Victoire said, sounding to her own ears like she was anything but fine. "Can we, um..."
"Yeah, hang on...."
Ted turned around and went back into the house to get his coat. From outside, Victoire could hear the muffled conversations between Ted, Caroline, and whoever else was inside. Even though it was only a few moments, it stretched into forever in Victoire's mind.
Leave now, she thought. This is stupid, you shouldn't be here, leave now.
"Just ask him about his vision," she said under her breath. "Ask him about the woman with the cat face, see what he remembers from that night, that's all. He doesn't need to know about your dream, just ask him about his."
But even as she heard the footsteps coming back to the door, Victoire nearly turned on her heel and Apparated into the December night.
"Got my coat," said Ted as he closed the door behind him.
"You're not going to, um, miss anything?" asked Victoire.
"No, we're recording," said Ted. "We record every episode."
"Sounds like you're becoming fans," said Victoire smugly.
"Well, I'll admit it has its good scenes," Ted shrugged. "The programme's a huge success everywhere, and when I try to watch it as an unbiased viewer I can understand why. But I know that it's... strange. Harry doesn't like it very much."
"Wouldn't think he would," said Victoire. "Look, you don't have to leave, I can come back another time."
"You need to talk to me, right?" asked Ted.
"Yeah, I do."
"Something you don't want Jean to hear?"
"I'm not sure," Victoire admitted. "Better safe than sorry, I guess."
"Is it something that can be talked about in Muggle territory?"
"Well, not like a coffeehouse, or anything," said Victoire. "I mean, it's nothing much, really--"
"Let's just take a walk around the block, then," said Ted, motioning Victoire down the front walk. "Then you can come in after you talk about the things that you don't want Jean to hear, alright?"
"I really shouldn't. Mum and Dad will wonder where I am."
"Okay," said Ted with a shrug. Stuffing his hands in his pocket, the two walked down to the sidewalk in silence, Victoire allowing Ted lead the way. It was cold. Colder than Victoire expected, colder even than when she left Shell Cottage. But her nerves were keeping her shivering, so that would probably keep her warmer, she wagered. She was having a hard time looking at anything but her feet on the sidewalk. After a minute of walking, Ted spoke.
"I won't ask how you're doing."
Victoire looked up. "What?"
"You're probably sick of everyone asking," said Ted with a small smile. "And even more sick of trying to answer the question with something more than fine."
"I'm the only sane survivor of a dark wizard attack," Victoire said quietly. "It's hard to explain how I feel, you know?"
"I could only imagine."
"You don't want to imagine, trust me," she said. "But thank you for not asking."
"We haven't seen you since you've been back," Ted continued.
"I know," said Victoire, absently brushing her short blond hair behind her ear before remembering that her ear was buried beneath her cap. "I've been... Well, I guess I've been having a hard time seeing a lot of people."
"Yeah," said Ted. "But I just want you to know that we're here for you, you know? Hermione and I."
"I know..."
"You can come over whenever you need to," he said. "If you ever need to get away from the Cottage, we're here. And we won't talk about anything that happened if you don't want to. It can be watching television or playing games or just using our spare bedroom for a nap or for the night."
Sleeping in your house, probably not a good idea.
"Thanks," she said.
"So what did you need to talk to me about?"
Victoire bit her lip nervously. Looked back down at her feet.
Just ask him about the dream and get it over with.
"I wanted to ask you about the cat woman."
Ted stopped walking and turned to her with a look of bemusement. "The what?"
"The cat woman..."
"You mean like from Batman?"
"Could you shut off the nerd thing for just a minute?" Victoire asked seriously.
"Not without the proper access codes," Ted said with a joking smirk.
"Harry said that you had dreamt about a cat woman the night of the attack."
"The night of the -- oh!"
"Are we on the same page now?" Victoire asked.
"I think so," said Ted slowly. "But I never told him that it was a woman."
"Oh," Victoire said. "Well, um, I meant cat person..."
"Okay," said Ted. "Yeah, I did have a dream about a... cat... person, yeah."
See? she thought. This isn't so hard, is it?
"How much do you remember about the dream?"
"Um, not much?" said Ted, rubbing his arm absently. "I mean, I remember what she looked like, but that's about all."
"You remember what she looked like..."
"Hard to forget," he said with a nervous shrug. "It was... um... intense... Plus I heard about the attack the next morning, I just had to tell Harry about the dream. I scribbled down every detail that I could, but I didn't need to. I still remember it. Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you want to know?" he asked. "Harry said that you didn't see anyone there that night with any kind of mask. Are you remembering something that you forgot earlier?"
"I... I don't... I don't know!" she stammered defensively. "I just want to know?"
Ted looked at her hard, studying her. Smooth response, Vic, Victoire thought bitingly, knowing that Ted wasn't completely convinced by her answer.
Wow, and I wonder why that would be?
"All right, yeah, I remember what she looked like," said Ted, looking up and down the empty street. "I can show you, if you want."
"Show? Oh! Right!" said Victoire. "The showing... I forgot you... can... show..."
"Do you want me to?" he asked, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head, effectively hiding his face from anyone who happened to be looking out their window.
"Yeah," Victoire said uncertainly. "Yeah, okay..."
It's just a coincidence, she rationalized. It'll be some black cat or a Siamese cat, or something completely different than OH GOD!
"It is time for the next exercise.
"Drive them out, then attack.
"Leave none to remember.
"Who are you?"
She thought she could handle it. She thought that the dream that night didn't have an effect on her (at least, she corrected, not that part of the dream). But as she stumbled backwards at the sight of the black and orange feline face staring at her from beneath Ted Lupin's hood, felt herself trip on the edge of the sidewalk, she knew that she was wrong.
Ted moved fast, his Chaser reflexes taking over. He jumped forward, slipping his hands beneath Victoire's armpits before she hit the ground.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his face quickly shifting back to its normal condition.
"Nothing," Victoire replied quickly, composing herself.
"Bullshit," Ted said. "I've done monster faces at you tons of times when we were kids. Way worse than that, and you barely flinched. So what gives?"
"Nothing gives," Victoire said.
"You're hiding something," said Ted, grabbing her arm gently. "There's something you're not telling me, or telling Harry or Jean or anyone. What is it?"
"I'm fine."
"You're not a very good actress, you know."
"It might... I don't know," Victoire said, suddenly feeling her grasp of the situation, of her whole reason for being here tonight, slip. "Are you sure you don't remember anything else about that dream?"
"No, I don't."
"Nothing at all?"
"Nothing at all," said Ted. But did his eyes slip away from her face when he said it? Did he hesitate a little too much?
Why do I suddenly feel like I'm not the only one hiding something? she thought.
Just stop flittering about and say something!
"I didn't see anyone in a cat mask that night," she said. "But I... I dreamt about one, too."
Now it was Ted's turn to be taken aback. "You... You did?"
"Yes, I did," she said.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"Consider yourself told," she said flatly.
"But if we both saw someone in the dream..."
"Then it might be a thing, yeah," said Victoire. "That's why I'm here. There might not be anything. I know the rest of my dream didn't have anything to do with that night, and didn't give me any clues about who the cat woman was. Besides, woman in a mask? Not exactly something Magical Law Enforcement can use to narrow down a suspect. Kind of an obvious reason to wear the mask in the first place. I just wanted to know what you remember about yours, and I can see if I can find anything connected with the attackers or with Uncle Charlie or Luna or anything."
"I told you, I don't remember anything..."
"You did," she said, stepping forward, "but I don't believe you. I'm not the only one hiding something. What was it?"
Ted hesitated. Looked back down the street towards the house. Bit his lip nervously. Unconsciously, his hair was shifting colors: Red, black, green, purple, dark blue...
"Please," Victoire begged, now taking his arm. "If you can't, you can't, but if you know anything that can help Uncle Charlie, anything that could help find their attackers, I need to know."
"It's... It's nothing that could help..."
"Ted, please!"
Ted took one last glance back to the house.
"Let's walk," he said shortly, tugging on her arm to guide her.
"Okay..."
The two walked in silence under the halogen streetlamps, the December sun already three hours set. Victoire wondered where they were going, if there was a coffeehouse nearby that Ted was aiming for. But as they neared the corner, she realized that they were heading towards Clapham Common.
I know it's not exactly busy on a cold night, she thought as they crossed the street. But why are we going somewhere where Muggles might be able to hear us?
But as Victoire turned around and looked back from where they had come, towards the Lupin's house, which was now out of her sight line, she realized that they weren't moving to get away from Muggles. He was moving to get away from everyone in the house. From his wife and family.
What are you hiding, Teddy Lupin? she thought. Her stomach was doing somersaults, and she started wondering if she should just call it a night before she got in too deep into... into whatever it was she was getting into.
"I was at the Potters'," Ted said quietly. "Not in Wimbourne, though; I was at Grimmauld Place. In my old room. Remember it?"
"Yeah, I do," said Victoire, a reminiscent smile crossing her lips despite her previous fears. "Quidditch posters and Pokemon bed linens, right?"
"No, Pokemon toy chest," said Ted with a chuckle. "Power Rangers or Spider-Man linens, more often than not."
"You're such a Muggle..." she teased, and Ted laughed nervously.
"It was a stupid dream to start," he continued. "You know how dreams are. Just taking whatever's in your brain, tossing it into a cauldron, and stirring. Kreacher was giving me morphing lessons in my old bedroom, I was eating cotton candy, and Madam Lovegood was doing the waltz with... Indiana Jones."
"What?" Victoire laughed.
"Swear to Merlin," said Ted. "Hat and whip and everything."
"All right, I can safely say that Indiana Jones wasn't there that night, either," she said. "We're in the clear so far."
"Yeah, probably..." he said, trailing off and looking around the Common's lit paths. There weren't a lot of Muggles walking tonight, and most of them seemed to be in their own worlds, either in conversations or in headphones.
"So is that it?" she said, knowing the answer before she asked it. "Is that the big hide?"
"No, it wasn't," he continued. "The, um... the scene changed. Room disappeared, Kreacher and Indy and whatever. I was in the... I was in the Greenhouse at Hogwarts, and... and... God, I shouldn't be saying this, I really really shouldn't..."
"Keep going," said Victoire, her mouth now dry, her heart beating harder. The Greenhouse? Greenhouse Three? She dreamt about the Greenhouse that night, too! Was there something there? Something important? Something connected to the attack?
An antidote! her mind raced. Maybe there's some ingredients at Hogwarts that can make a potion to help Uncle Charlie! Professor Longbottom's always been crazy about that huge, nasty plant, maybe--
"I was in the Greenhouse," said Ted, his eyes firmly planted on the ground now. "I was there, and... everyone was there. Harry and Ginny and Neville... and Hermione... and... and..." he swallowed, not able to continue.
"And me," Victoire breathed, the full realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. She froze in her tracks, staring at him with her eyes wide. "I was there, too, right?"
With a painful grimace, Ted nodded.
"Oh my God," she whispered, her gloved hand rising to her mouth. "We made love," she said. "We... We..."
"In the dream, yeah," he said. "We... had sex. It happens a lot, I guess. I have dreams about you. It's just... my brain. Doing its stupid dream thing. Please, Vic, please don't think bad of me," he said desperately. "Hermione, she... I know it's not cheating, because who can control their brain when they're asleep, you know? But I know she wouldn't like that I'm thinking about... I mean... I'm not... you..."
"I had the same dream."
Ted stopped in mid-stammer. "What?"
"I had the same dream that night," she said. "We were... and then..."
"Then the cat woman showed up," said Ted.
"And then I woke up," they both said in unison.
"Oh, God," said Ted, the color draining from his face (and his hair). "What the hell is happening?"
"I don't know," said Victoire, shaking her head hard. "I don't..."
"I'm getting in your head," said Ted, looking around desperately for a bench before his legs gave out completely. "Somehow I'm... I'm seeing your dreams."
"Or I'm seeing yours," Victoire corrected, following him to the bench. "No... That's not quite right..."
"No, it's not right!" Ted agreed. "I'm married, I have a wife who I love more than anything in the world, I shouldn't be dreaming about you! It has to be me going into your head."
"I shouldn't be dreaming about you, either!"
Ted didn't respond, but simply leaned forward, his hands covering his face but not quite hiding his eyes, wide with shock.
"I shouldn't be dreaming about you," Victoire said quietly, putting her hand on Ted's back. "But I am. And you're dreaming about me. What does that mean?"
"I don't know," he said, voice muffled by his gloves. "There's some kind of connection between us. This isn't the first time I've dreamed about you, either. I'm sure we could compare notes, but--"
"It's not the first time for me, either," Victoire said, her heart racing.
"Some kind of bond," he said. "But it's important."
"It is..."
"We're both dreaming of the same cat woman. We both dreamed about her on the night of the attack. That has to mean something. She has to mean something. She has to be related to what happened to Luna and Charlie."
"Oh," Victoire said, deflating. "Of course... That's, um... that's what I meant... I guess..."
Ted looked up, grasping her other meaning. "Vic, I'm sorry," he said. "This... This whatever that's happening with us, it can't-- It doesn't mean-- Look, I love Hermione..."
Victoire stood up suddenly. "I should go."
"What?"
"I should leave," she said, her voice quaking as she walked away. "I should leave it was stupid of me to ask I should have just--"
"Vic, wait!" said Ted, following her. "Vic, we have to figure this out!"
"What is there to figure out?" she cried. "Ted, the last two years I've been doing nothing but trying to forget about you! But I keep dreaming about you, about us, and it won't stop!"
"Vic--"
"And now I find out that you're having the same dreams?" she said, the tears flowing now. "That you've been dreaming about you and me together and it doesn't mean anything to you?"
"It does mean something to me!" Ted cried. "Vic, I... I dream about you, and I care about you. But I wake up and I see Hermione and--"
"I know," Victoire said, wiping her freezing cheeks with the back of her hand. "You love her, I love you, it's a whole damn mess and it needs to stop."
"There's a connection," Ted explained. "I don't know what it is, and neither do you."
"I know what it is," she said, stepping towards him despite herself. "And I can't... I can't stop it. I can't stop thinking about you. Or you can't stop thinking about me."
"I know," Ted said, putting his hand on her cheek. And there was something in that touch. She felt it. They had only kissed once, two years ago, but there was a familiarity to this. A comfort to this. Like two lovers...
Stop it! It's nothing! You're building your hopes up!
But she knew that it was more than nothing. They had plenty of opportunities to kiss, plenty of opportunities to be close. And they had followed through with it on numerous occasions--
In your head! In your dreams!
In their heads. In their dreams. In that world, those dreamscapes, they had plenty of practice.
She felt herself leaning in. Felt her toes pushing herself up. Towards his face. Towards his lips.
She kissed him. She felt him respond to her. Felt his tongue slip into her mouth, his hand sliding up her side, touching her through her jacket in new,
(old)
unexplored
(familiar)
places.
Felt him pull away.
"No," he gasped, stepping back from her reach. "No, Vic, I'm so, so sorry, but I can't..."
Victoire closed her eyes and turned away. He was right. He couldn't. Neither could she. What was it that she had said all those years ago? "If you end up back with HC, I'll love you for it. If I can't have you, then I want you to have her."
But didn't he also say "If I wake up one day with you more there than she is..."?
Shut up.
"This needs to stop," he said, daring himself to move closer again (but not too close). "Vic, we need to figure out what's happening to us so it can't happen anymore."
"Yeah," she said hoarsely. "Yeah, this needs to... This needs to stop..."
"Okay, um, yeah," he said uncertainly. "Um, where were you? In the dream?"
"In the greenhouse, just like you."
"No, I mean, your position."
"With my back to you," she said before she could stop herself.
"Right..." he said, his eyes growing hazy and distant as he trailed off. Victoire had a sneaking suspicion that he was thinking about the same thing she was
hand down bare stomach, fingers through tight curled blond hair, caressing swollen--
"What I mean!" Ted said, pulling himself back to reality with a jolt. "What I mean... um... were you... um... were you watching it from the outside, or were you seeing it from your own eyes?"
"Through my own eyes," Victoire said, trying to pull herself back, as well, and only partially succeeding. "I was seeing through my own eyes, I was... feeling... everything..."
Her eyes closed against her will, remembering, savoring...
"Yeah," Ted droned, losing himself again. "Um... yeah... So did... uh... I..."
"I came as soon as I woke up," she said dreamily. "I do that a lot..."
Oh, God! Why are you telling him this?
She opened her eyes to see him close to her again. Her hand slid helplessly up his leg, feeling a growing bulge in his pants.
Ted exhaled shakily. "I... Vic... I..."
"Shhh," she breathed, pressing her body against his.
"Something's happening..." Hands on the small of her back. Lips on her neck. Teeth...
"I know," she said, losing herself in him. "I know..."
"Vic..."
"Oy! Get a room!"
Victoire and Ted were both pulled back to reality at the sound of passing laughter.
"Shut up about that! We were gonna get a free show!"
"Yeah, show us your tits, baby!"
"Show us your teabagging skills!"
The three teenage Muggles, obviously tanked up, staggered past, taking glances back at Ted and Victoire and laughing riotously. The reaction of the hooligans had a clarifying effect, and the two jumped apart from each other like they had been touched with a Stinging Hex.
"Oh God..." Ted groaned, turning away with his head in his hands.
"Oh God," Victoire agreed.
"I love Hermione!" Ted said to himself. "I love her, this isn't me, this isn't happening, I love her."
Victoire nodded helplessly, collapsing on the bench. She felt like she was going to vomit; her stomach was twisting in her guts.
How could you do this to yourself? To him? To them?
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm a... I'm a horrible..."
"You're not!" he insisted. "I was doing it, too. Oh, God..."
"What do we do?" Vic asked, wanting to grab his hand, knowing she couldn't. "Teddy, what do we do?"
"We find out what's happening," Ted said. "We find out whatever this connection is, find out what the cat woman has to do with it, and get rid of it. Vic, I care about you, I do, but this isn't me and you know that..."
"I know," said Victoire, her eyes unable to meet his. "So... I don't know anything about this kind of thing, and you don't..."
"We'll have to find someone who does."
"Not Aunt Jean, please!" Victoire begged. "If she knew about this..."
"No, no family," Ted said with a nod, "I agree. It... Not yet. I mean, if we can find out about the cat woman, yes, but..."
"Are you, um," Victoire said, her mouth drying and her stomach doing another flip, "are you going to tell HC?"
"Not if I don't have to."
God, you're making him keep secrets from his wife! What have you gotten yourself into?
"So who else is there?" he continued. "Who can we talk to?"
Victoire opened her mouth, but closed it right away. The first person who she could think of to talk to, the first person that she could confide in about her personal life and who was well-versed in paranormal behavior, was currently being shipped to Hogwarts from St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward. Right now, Luna Lovegood was in no condition to button her own jeans, let alone figure out the intricacies of mental bonds and psychic premonitions.
"Who helped Uncle Harry when he was hooked to Voldemort?" she asked instead. And as she asked it, she felt a touch of disappointment roll through her. Of course it was stupid to think that she and Ted had something special just because their brains were connected. You could have a link to your mortal enemy just as easily as you could to your one true love.
It didn't have to mean anything.
"Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape," said Ted with a shake of his head. "Both of them are, obviously, unavailable."
"Maybe Professor Skryer?" suggested Victoire. "Or, um, what's the name of their friend, the Divination teacher at Beauxbatons? Patil?"
"Maybe," said Ted skeptically. "It'd be hard to find a time when Hermione's not... Damn it, I hate this! I hate hiding from her!"
"What about Mrs. Finnigan?" Victoire said, perking up. "She might be able to help. She's a Diviner, isn't she?"
"It's a side gig," Ted said. "But... Yeah... That might work. She'll be discreet."
"Okay," said Victoire. "Yeah, okay, Mrs. Finnigan. That... That works."
"Okay, good," said Ted, putting the conversation to rest. "I'll, um, I'll keep in touch with you then, and we'll find some time to see her. The sooner the better."
"Yeah," said Victoire, sighing. "Sooner the... yeah."
"I should go," Ted said. "I should go home. They're all wondering where I went, I'm sure."
"Wait," said Victoire, grabbing his chin and twisting it to the left, examining his neck. Good Lord, did she actually give him a hickey?
"Hold still," she said quietly, looking around to make sure they were alone before pulling her wand from her coat pocket and touching it to Ted's neck.
"Oof," he said as the love bite began to fade. "That's cold!"
"You're in the cold," she said flatly. "Plus I'm saving your arse from my stupidity. So don't complain."
"You have an odd variety of spells in your arsenal, Miss Weasley."
"Nate and I taught it to each other at Hogwarts," she said. "Your girlfriend was off-campus, you didn't have to worry about hiding stuff from your professors."
"Lucky me," he said with a sigh.
"Can I ask you a really stupid question?" she blurted out while finishing up her work. "I swear it's relevant."
"Okay?"
"Do you have a mole on your bum?"
Ted pulled away, his neck now clean, and gave her a questioning look. "Where's this coming from?"
"It might help!" she said, her face turning bright red. "I mean, I've never seen you naked in real life, but if I'm seeing things in my dreams that I'm not supposed to know--"
"Do you have a mole right over your left nipple?" Ted asked. "In, like, the two o'clock position?"
"Ten o'clock," Victoire said, blushing more furiously now. "I mean, when I'm looking in the mirror."
"Then, yes, I have a mole on my bum," he said.
"I like that mole," she said, her voice barely audible.
"I like that mole, too," he admitted. "I mean, yours, on your... um..."
"We should go," Victoire said quickly. "Before I get the urge to jump your arse again."
"Yes!" said Ted, standing up far too fast to be casual. "We should... go..."
The two stood face-to-face, awkward yet comfortable in each others' presence. Victoire knew that she should turn away, but also knew that she couldn't escape Ted's eyes. Knowing what he knew, knowing what they knew about each other, what they'd done to each other, with each other for so long without ever realizing.
She wanted to forget him. Wanted to move on. But this knowledge made it so hard to even turn away from him right now.
Please turn away, Teddy Lupin, Victoire willed. Please. I'm so weak around you...
Ted Lupin lingered, and Victoire Weasley lingered, and they both knew that things weren't going to be as easily fixed as one single visit with Lavender Finnigan.
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