"Go away."

"No."

"Go away."

"No."

"Go away."

"Why?"

There was a sudden pause, as the boy stared in frustration at the impossible little girl standing in front of him, long red hair tumbling into her eyes and her lower lip pouting.

"Because you're too little. Why do you always have to tag along?"

"I'm not tagging."

"Yes you are. We don't want you here, and you're following us. So you're tagging."

"I know you're going to sneak food out of the kitchen."

"So…?"

"If you don't let me come, I'll scream. An' then you'll be caught."

"So will you."

"I don't care."

"Fine. Scream. See if I care."

"I hate you."

"Good. Why are you following me then?"

"I want to come."

"Why do you have to be so annoying, Victoire?"

"Why do you have to be so horrible, Teddy?"

"Hi, Teddy!"

He bit back a groan.

What a nightmare. Why couldn't they have sent her to Beauxbatons, like her mum? She was going to ruin anything. Guy and Persis already thought it was the funniest thing ever, and called her Teddy's Little Lamb. Now everybody was going to laugh at it.

He was a Third Year. He couldn't have a stupid little red-headed twit of a First Year following him round. Persis thought she was quite sweet, the way her starry blue eyes blinked out from under her red fringe. Teddy couldn't see it. She was just the Limpet. The Pest. The Bouncing Ball, because no matter how far you threw her away, she bounced back twice as hard.

And now she was going to Hogwarts with him.

His life was over.

"Vic, you have to come out some time."

"No."

"Don't be stupid, Vic."

"Go away, Tamsyn."

"We're not leaving you in there like that, Victoire. You have to…"

"I don't have to anything."

"Vic, you can't let it get to you. It's not the end of the world. It's not like…"

"He kissed her."

"Well, they are sort of going out…"

"In front of everyone. They did it on purpose, just to spite me."

"Now you really are being stupid, Vic. Why would they do that?"

"He knew it would upset me. He always tries to upset me. I hate him."

"Yes. Exactly. You hate him. That's the right way to think. So it doesn't matter, does it, and you can come out?"

"Why… why does he have to be like that?"

"Vic, honestly, he isn't being like anything. It's not like anything's actually ever going to happen between you two. He doesn't fancy you. You know that. I mean, he's in Fifth Year, and you're only in Third. You can't stop him going out with other people. You have to get over him. You've had a crush on him so long… Maybe you should try going out with other people for a bit. Loads of boys fancy you, Vic. You could have any of the boys in our year. Maybe it's time to move on… stop obsessing over something you can't have…"

"Oh, go away! You don't know anything!"

If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that it was him. That the dry, slightly hesitant lips pressing onto hers were his. That the soft hair tickling her forehead was not dark but one of the bright colours he favoured. That the hands, lightly holding her hips, were his hands.

But she'd have to hold her breath too, because he didn't smell right. He smelt of broomstick oil, and the open air and the wind, because he'd been playing Quidditch; with a faint whiff of cigarette smoke, and an unfamiliar shampoo.

Teddy sometimes smelt of Quidditch too, but more usually of earth and whatever creature he had been helping Hagrid with, and wood smoke not cigarettes. And she knew his shampoo as well as she knew her own.

He pressed her back against the wall, his kiss increasingly urgent, and she did her best to return it. He was the handsome Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, after all, and she was a lowly Fourth Year. She was well aware that she was the focus of the envy of most of the Fifth, Sixth and Seventh Year girls, as well as her own year. So she ought to make the most of it.

But the one person she wanted to be looking; the single person she wished was jealous, never batted an eyelid. All he did was grin teasingly at her, in a big-brotherly way, and the knife twisted just that little bit deeper.

"What the hell's the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, whatever. Vic, you've spent the last fifteen years or so following me around, and now suddenly you're not talking to me. What's going on? What have I done?"

"Why do you even care? You've spent the last fifteen years trying to get rid of me. Well, congratulations. You've managed it. Why don't you go and have a party with darling Kathryn?"

"Is that what this is about? It's about Kathy…?"

"No! Why would I care about her?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"Oh come on, Teddy. Everyone knows what happened last night…"

"I don't know what you mean…"

"Oh, don't bother, Teddy. You're a hopeless liar. And Kathy told all her friends. Everyone knows now. You screwed her last night, up against the wall in the Owlery. Nice one, Lupin. Classy. Was it your first time? Bet that was one to remember. Good thing it wasn't her first time, she might have been a bit disappointed with the setting…"

"Shut up, Victoire. You don't have a clue what you're talking about. Or maybe you do. All that disgusting fumbling around you and Venables do all over the dinner table every night. Has he had you yet? I bet he has, hasn't he? Or was it Larson last year? Got a thing for Quidditch players, haven't you? What is it about girls, and men with broomsticks between their legs…? Ow! Fucking hell, Vic, that fucking hurt!"

"Just shut up, Teddy Lupin. Just shut the fuck up! You're a fucking hypocrite, talking about me and Venables after the story Kathryn told about last night. And you don't know shit about me. Just shut up and leave me alone. I've had it with you. I never want to look at you again. So just fuck off and die, Lupin."

She watched him walk away, her last words ringing in her ears and her heart pounding. And through the mist of anger and hurt and denial, certain phrases filtered into her brain, and the hope; that ridiculous, mocking little piece of hope that had prevented her ever moving on; sparked into life again. She had almost put it out. Almost, after years of him pouring water on the flames; years of her trying to deny that cruel fire that burned inside her. She – with a little help from Kathryn Dimont – had almost succeeded in putting it out forever.

But that flame of hope seemed to be made of Fiendfyre. And as some of his words sank into her brain, the little spark glowed bright again, despite her rage.

All that disgusting fumbling… all over the dinner table… every night.

He had noticed. He had looked. And he hadn't liked it.

He could pinpoint the first time he looked at her and noticed that she was beautiful. It was half way through his Seventh Year, not long after the fight. He had been with Hagrid, helping him with the thestrals (a difficult task, as Teddy could not see thestrals) and he was coming up to the castle, heading for the showers to get rid of the smells of animal and sweat. And she came up from the direction of the greenhouses – she had probably had Herbology – with a group of friends. She saw him, he was sure of it, but she was giving him the silent treatment very thoroughly, and didn't miss a beat in her conversation with her friends; her head went back and she laughed merrily at something Tamsyn Golightly had said, red hair rippling silkily over her shoulders, and the late afternoon sun catching the side of her face.

It wasn't a particularly significant moment. It wasn't some sort of epiphany. It was just that – although his brain had always known that she was pretty – he had never really noticed it before. But as she turned away from him, he saw, with a sort of astonishment, what other people had been talking about when they called Victoire Weasley beautiful.

She had never ignored him before. It had always been the other way around. Since she had been able to walk, she had followed him around, gazing at him with those adoring eyes, and he had done his best to shut her out. But now her eyes passed indifferently over him, with a flicker of something like scorn.

And he was dismayed to find that it bothered him a little bit.

"Vic, I'm glad you've moved on, but I'm not sure ignoring his existence is the best approach. What's he actually done to you, after all?"

"I'm sick of him, Tamsyn. Sick of him always putting me down and treating me like some little kid."

"Right. So instead of convincing him you're actually an adult by acting like one, you cut him dead in the corridor?"

"You didn't hear what he said to me."

"Was it worse than what you said to him?"

"That isn't the point."

"So, you hate him now? Because he had sex with Kathryn Dimont, which really shouldn't be any of your business, seeing as you're going out with Matthew Venables? Going to be a bit awkward when you go home, isn't it? Given that you spend half the holidays with him…"

"Leave it, Tamsy."

"But he hasn't actually done anything wrong…"

"I said, leave it."

"Fuck this, Victoire. You're acting like a child!"

"Oh, because you're being really mature, shouting at me in front of the whole Common Room!"

"Oh Merlin, this is ridiculous! We can't carry on like this when we go home for Easter. Will you at least tell me what you think I've done?"

"You know exactly what you've done."

"NO, I DON'T! As far as I can remember, all you've accused me of is having sex with my girlfriend!"

"Just forget it, Teddy."

"No, I won't forget it! What is this? We used to be…"

"What? What did we used to be, Teddy?"

"Well… we used to be… friends…"

"NO, WE DIDN'T, TEDDY. Friends aren't like that! Friends don't have to trail round after each other like some pathetic puppy, hoping for some little scrap of attention! Friends don't spend all their time trying to get rid of each other! I don't know what we were, Teddy, but it wasn't friends. I don't even know what you want from me! You want to go back to how we were? Because I never got the impression you enjoyed it much. What do you want, Teddy? Because I'm fucking sick of… Oh!"

He closed her lips with his own. And their first kiss tasted of anger and confusion and frustration

For a few brief moments, they melded together in a white hot, furious embrace, nerves on fire, bodies burning, all the things they wanted to scream at each other; the insults, the sarcasm, the biting remarks; all poured into that kiss.

Then he pulled back, breathless and dazed, and looked down at her, her hair falling in her face as usual, her cheeks flushed and her breathing erratic.

And her hand swung round and hit his cheek. Hard.

So he grabbed her hands, pulled her close and kissed her again.