Author's Notes: Well hello, ! It's been a while! This is partly due to my having been in the last year of university and doing Master's applications and taking exams that decide the entirety of my degree, and partly due to the fact that I prefer spending time on AO3 these days (look me up at the same username if you want to follow me on there. I sometimes post some extra fics that I don't post here). But I haven't forgotten about this place! Or my numerous in-progress fanfics... in spite of how it might seem...

Anyway! If you're a fan of HP you've no doubt read J.K. Rowling's latest addition to the Harry Potter canon, a gossip column written by Rita Skeeter about the 2014 Quidditch World Cup final. If you haven't read it yet, go and Google it now, because it's a great piece and this won't make much sense without it.

A Tumblr user called medleypond made a fantastic set of gifs depicting Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley's reactions to said column, and I loved them so much that I turned them into a fic. Et voila! This fanfic.

You can check out the gifs over at .com (slash) post (slash) 91215716523. I adapted some of the dialogue to fit my take on the scenario, and fleshed it out a bit. All the other details that you see here come from the marvellous mind of J.K. Rowling; this is basically just an elaborate assembly job.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction; I don't own any part of the Harry Potter franchise nor do I gain any profit from this work, just a little bit of satisfaction from actually having written something for once. And a lot of entertainment. I hope you will too!

Bad Boys and Nice Girls

Victoire tapped twice on the door of the guest bedroom at Shell Cottage and then poked her head around it. "Wakey-wakey, sleepy Ted!" she sing-songed.

A groan issued from the pile of covers on the bed; Teddy Lupin was not a morning person. He lifted his head up from the pristine white pillow and rubbed at one eye with the heel of his hand, sandy brown hair sticking up in all directions. Victoire didn't know if he deliberately returned his hair to its natural colour (if there even was such a thing for a metamorphmagus) before bed or if it was something that happened unconsciously during the night, but it had looked like that the few times she'd managed to catch him off-guard in the mornings. Victoire delighted in it; it made him look totally different. But the blue was a personal favourite of hers, and she had a sneaking suspicion that was why he kept it that colour.

"What time is it?" Teddy asked, his voice sleep-rough. In fairness, Victoire reminded herself, he was allowed to be a little disoriented after they'd taken three international portkeys back from South America the previous evening. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and the covers slid a little further off his bare shoulders. Victoire smirked in appreciation.

"Almost ten-thirty, English time. Mum and Dad have gone out with the kids, so it's safe for you to come down to the kitchen. They left a load of breakfast stuff for us."

Teddy scowled, blushing slightly. "I'm not afraid of your parents."

"Not much," said Victoire. "Oh, here—" She tossed him the morning's Daily Prophet, carefully folded back to the gossip section. "Some morning reading for you."

"What-?"

"If you can make it down in ten minutes, I'm cooking scrambled eggs," Victoire said, and closed the door. She was on the top step of the stairs when Teddy's annoyed shout sounded through the wood.

"VICTOIRE! You know I hate eggs!"

"You'd better get down here and stop me, then!" she called back brightly and danced away down the stairs, giggling.

Seven minutes later, Teddy came down the stairs, his hair restored to its usual bright turquoise. He was wearing jeans and a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, frowning down at the newspaper he held. He almost missed the bottom step in his concentration.

"What. The. Hell," he said flatly as his eyes reached the bottom of the page. He looked up at her in disbelief. Victoire smiled as she set out the pumpkin juice and two glasses on the table. "What complete garbage! I don't even know where to start – implying that Ginny cursed Harry, slurs on Ron's mental health – and Luna's children's – the stuff about your parents, and she's still banging on about the Triwizard Tournament after twenty years! Merlin!" He threw the paper onto the table and dropped into a chair. "Why are they still letting that poisonous old hag write for them? Now I know exactly why Harry hates her so much."

"She's got a way with words," said Victoire archly. "But the last part is my favourite." She finished buttering a slice of toast and pulled the paper towards her with a sly smile. "'Wild boy', corner-lurker… Seems Rita didn't leave anything out, did she?" She held the paper at arm's length as though admiring it. "Our first appearance together in print. I think I'll frame it for my wall."

"Oh, sure, you can joke," Teddy grumbled, taking the jug of pumpkin juice and looking as though he wanted to stick his head in it. "You're not the one going home to a lecture from Nan! The number of times she's gone on at me about 'keeping my head down', and now this happens! How was I supposed to know we were being followed?"

"Ooh, but what about when Uncle Harry finds out you've been seducing his poor, innocent niece in dark corners?" said Victoire, effecting her best doe eyes and biting her lip just a little.

Teddy went bright red and opened and closed his mouth a few times. "As I recall, I wasn't the one doing the seducing!"

Victoire burst out laughing, unable to contain her delight at Teddy's indignant expression. He huffed at her as she tipped her head back, shoulders shaking, and took the opportunity to steal back the copy of the Prophet from her loosened grip.

"Victoire Weasley, you're lucky I don't like nice girls, 'cause you're not one." Victoire snorted as she picked up her glass of pumpkin juice. Who wanted to be a "nice girl", anyway?

"And you're lucky I don't like "bad boys", because you're not one," she said with a smirk. "In spite of what the rest of the wizarding world now thinks."

Teddy rolled his eyes and folded up the paper wedging it under the plate of toast. "You're not framing this."

"Give it six months, I'm sure she'll find something even better to print about us," said Victoire airily. "After all…" She gazed up at Teddy with smouldering eyes, the same look that she'd used to persuade him into kissing her around the back of the Bulgarian tents at the World Cup final. "I can't disappoint a waiting audience."

Teddy stared dazedly at her for a couple of moments before visibly shaking himself. "You're a menace," he said darkly.

Victoire laughed again, bright and happy, as the sound of the front door opening announced the return of the rest of the family. "You wouldn't have me any other way," she told him.