Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8940.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_Rowling
  Relationship:
      Teddy_Lupin/Cedric_Diggory, Cedric_Diggory/Roger_Davies, Cedric_Diggory/
      Cho_Chang
  Character:
      Teddy_Lupin, Cedric_Diggory, Remus_Lupin, Harry_Potter, Sirius_Black,
      Roger_Davies, Albus_Dumbledore
  Additional Tags:
      Time_Travel, Romance, Drama, 69ing, Pre-Epilogue, PoA_era, GoF_era,
      Community:_merry_smutmas
  Collections:
      The_Quidditch_Pitch
  Stats:
      Published: 2007-12-17 Completed: 2009-11-14 Chapters: 9/9 Words: 36216
****** Rise From the Ashes ******
by MidniteMarauder
Summary
     When Teddy asks the Room of Requirement for help in his quest to
     learn more about his father, he gets far more than he ever
     anticipated. (Previously: Muggles have an old saying: "Be careful
     what you wish for, you might just get it." Teddy never quite grasped
     the meaning, until he made a wish of his own.)
Notes
     Written for Merry_Smutmas 2007. Much love and gratitude to my betas,
     inksheddings and paranoidsistah, and xingou for the extra pair of
     eyes and encouragement. Titles nicked from Vienna Teng's "Eric's
     Song".
     For those who care, this story is actually canon compliant - in the
     sense that it does not contradict canon. Until it does, by both
     choice and necessity. So yes, as you can probably guess from the
     pairing, it does become AU. Teddy is 15 in the prologue, and 17 when
     the story begins. Cedric is 16. The age of consent in the UK is 16,
     but some may consider this story to be underage. YMMV.
***** Prologue: a distance erased *****
Prologue: a distance erased
Teddy turned the black and gold badge over in his hands, running his fingers
over the large 'P' half covering the badger. Prefect. He frowned and tossed the
badge onto his cluttered desk. He'd have to write to Simon later. They had a
bet on and he meant to collect, but right now, he wasn't in the mood.
He swivelled his chair, glancing at the photo of his parents who were smiling
and waving at him from behind the glass of the frame. He leaned forward and
gently touched two fingers to their faces, a gesture that had become
instinctive over the years, before turning away to survey his room. Laundry,
both clean and dirty, books, magazines, Quidditch equipment, and other odds and
bits lay in sprawling piles scattered in the open spaces between the furniture.
He sighed, realising that the lack of visible floor underneath meant that it
was time to tidy up, or at least consolidate the various piles into something a
bit more ordered. He wasn't particularly in the mood for that either.
Gran, Harry and Ginny had been thrilled at the news of his prefecture, though
Harry hadn't seemed very surprised. His Gran had prattled on to a nearly
embarrassing degree, while Ginny had teased him and told him not to tell George
or Percy.
"George'll revoke your privileges at the joke shop and label you a traitor to
the cause, and Percy will offer advice and bore you to tears with a three-hour
lecture on duty and responsibility."
Harry had merely clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. They'd assured him
that his parents would have been very proud of him. Of course they would have
been proud, he knew that, but the achievement was still hollow. "Just like your
dad. He was a prefect, you know," Harry had said barely a half hour earlier.
No, he hadn't known.
And that was the reason for his restless tetchiness. One more thing, one more
detail he hadn't known. He knew all about his mum; growing up with his Gran, of
course she'd told him hundreds of stories. But the tales had been somewhat
lacking when it came to his father, and since Gran didn't seem to want to talk
much about him, Teddy had stopped asking her a long time ago.
Harry had told him stories about his dad, but readily admitted that he didn't
know all that much—he hadn't had much opportunity to spend time with Remus
before his death, and when they did, the conversation had been about other
things, namely the war and Harry's own father. Yet, Harry was still the one who
had known his father best, and while he knew it wasn't Harry's fault that he
couldn't answer all of his questions, it still niggled. Especially at times
like this.
It wasn't as if he didn't have a family. Most days he had more family than he
knew what to do with, and he loved them all. But there was a part of him that
was still empty, and he didn't know how to fill it.
He sat up and turned when he heard a knock on the door. "Come in."
Harry poked his head in and shook it in wonder. "I can't believe your Gran lets
you keep it like this."
"Oh, she still makes a fuss. And pretends to get cross. But it's not really
dirty, just untidy."
"At your age, my bedroom was both, but my aunt refused to set foot inside,"
Harry said, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Anyway, have you
got a moment? I wanted to talk to you. And there's something I wanted to give
you, but I didn't want to do it in front of your Gran, and certainly not in
front of the rest of the family."
Teddy raised his eyebrows. "Sure, come on in."
Harry closed the door, fielded his way through a labyrinth of clothes, and
cleared off a section of the bed, sitting down. He removed his glasses and
rubbed his eyes, wiped his glasses on the hem of his shirt before putting them
back on, and ran his hand through his always-messy hair.
"You look tired," Teddy observed.
"When you have three sprogs, we'll see how well you sleep. You buggered off
before their bedtime last night," Harry said, mock-deprecatingly. "I know, you
were meeting your friends, but James made an awful fuss. Kept coming into our
bedroom at all hours with a different excuse. I love him dearly, but he's
exhausting. They're visiting with Molly and Arthur today so Ginny and I get a
few hours of peace to ourselves." He paused for a moment before continuing.
"You didn't know, did you?"
"Didn't know what?" Teddy asked, confused.
"About your dad being prefect. I saw the look on your face, before."
"Oh, that. It's no big deal," Teddy said. He shrugged with what he hoped was
indifference but would not meet Harry's gaze.
"You're a terrible liar, you know. First rule of lying is: keep it simple.
Second rule is: always look the person in the eye."
"Huh. Is there a third rule I should know about?" Teddy asked, frowning and
feeling churlish.
"You want me to give away all of my secrets? I've always been relieved at your
ineptitude in that area."
Teddy huffed in annoyance. "Right. What's one more secret, anyway."
"Trust me; I need all the help I can get." Harry sighed. "Listen, Teddy, there
are things I don't like to talk about... because... well... even after—what,
fifteen years is it now? And more.—my childhood wasn't…. You know I've a lot of
pretty awful memories. I lost so many people that I loved, and I don't even
like thinking about it if I can help it.
"I promised you that one day I'd tell you more about it, about me, and I will.
But not yet." Harry scrubbed his hands through his hair so that it stuck up
even more than usual. "I know I've said 'when you're older' to you a lot.
You're fifteen, and you're practically a man in your own right, and now a
prefect to boot," he added, his lip quirking slightly in the corner. "What I
really mean when I say that, though, is when I'm ready." He shrugged. "You'll
have to humour me a bit, all right? I can be pretty stubborn.
"But when it comes to your father," Harry continued earnestly, "there isn't
anything I'd keep from you—not intentionally. I promised you that a long time
ago, too. The problem is, some things I just don't remember – like the prefect
thing – until they come up."
Teddy blushed. He knew he was being childish, and he hated when he disappointed
Harry. Harry was more than just a godfather to him and had always treated him
as a son, even and especially after he'd had his own.
"I know, Harry. Really, I do. I was just… surprised. I never really thought
about it, and I guess I always figured your father, or maybe even Sirius, had
been prefect in their year."
Harry laughed. "From what I've been told myself, my dad and Sirius were fairly
brilliant, but they were quite the pair of troublemakers back then. Your father
was, too, and no mistake, only he was more responsible, or at least less prone
to being caught." Harry paused, a distant expression on his face. "My dad and
Sirius spent almost as much time in detention as they did in classes. I got to
sort through their old records once. Took me weeks."
"Oh. It just seems, well, weird, to be honest. Professor Dumbledore might have
liked my father, but appointing a werewolf as prefect? You've got to admit,
that's pretty barmy."
"Professor Dumbledore was definitely, er, unique. Though Ron always thought he
was completely off his rocker, and I guess he was in a way, but he was also
very wise," Harry said. "He had a lot of respect for your father, and he
believed in him. Trusted him. And speaking of your father, the reason for my
visit today. Well, besides the obvious.
"I thought about giving this to you last year. I…well, it sort of came into my
possession when I was in third year, but giving this to a thirteen-year-old…."
Harry shrugged. "I suppose I'm getting responsible in my old age."
"Yes, you're ancient. What are you now, sixty? Eighty-five?" Teddy closed his
eyes and concentrated, his features blurring into a rough imitation of his
godfather. With an additional thought, he turned his now-black hair grey, but
his attempt at growing a long, flowing beard was rather dismal as a total of
five hairs sprouted from his still-smooth chin.
"Don't be rude," Harry said, grinning and shaking his head, and this time his
eyes were warm and kind. "Though you are getting better at that. Beard still
needs a bit of work."
Teddy grinned back and relaxed in his desk chair, his features returning to
normal. "So where's my present?"
"Spoilt and rude," Harry said, and shook his head. He reached into his pocket
and removed what looked to be a sheaf of old parchment and laid it on the bed
beside him. "Come here," he said.
Teddy sat down on the bed and looked at the worn, blank parchment, crinkling
his brows. It wasn't a sheaf but rather one large piece folded over several
times. "Er, Harry, that's really nice of you and all but, um, I've got plenty
of parchment already." And it's in much better condition, he added silently,
noticing the deep folds and creases, and the frayed edges as Harry unfolded it.
"Yes, I'm sure you have, but this isn't ordinary parchment." He took his wand
from his pocket and twirled it through his fingers, an impish expression on his
face that erased the tired lines between his brows and made him look almost
like a teenager himself.
"Oh?" Teddy leaned in closer. "Is it magic parchment then?" he whispered,
winking. "I'll never have to do homework ever again, just wish and the answers
appear, is that it?"
"I know you think I'm taking the piss, but as a matter of fact, it really is.
Magical. Has nothing to do with homework, unless you take into account that it
might keep you from it, but don't ever tell Hermione I said that. This," Harry
said, "is a family heirloom. Your family and mine."
"Heirloom?" He looked at the parchment with more interest, though it still
looked ordinary and old. "You're serious, aren't you. Why keep it a secret from
Gran then?"
"Your Gran may be a renegade Black, but it's likely not something she would
approve of. I love her, but let's keep it between us for now. I want you to
have it, and I know your dad would want you to have it. He created it, after
all. Well, with a little help from my dad, and Sirius, who, I might add, would
also jump at any chance to corrupt a Lupin. It's rather like a shared
birthright for the both of us, and you've certainly earned it. Now, watch
closely, and listen."
Teddy watched, his heart thumping with excitement. This was something that had
belonged to his father, and he realised he wouldn't have cared if it had been
only a mouldy old sheaf of used parchment.
Harry touched his wand to the parchment and his eyes glinted with mischief. "I
solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
***** Chapter 1: the ghosts in the attic, they never quite leave *****
Chapter 1: the ghosts in the attic, they never quite leave
"Aren't you coming?" Simon asked, fastening his cloak and throwing a scarf
about his neck.
It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and the common room was emptying out quickly as his
friends and house mates buttoned their cloaks and pulled on mittens to ward
against the February chill.
"I've got that Transfiguration essay to finish," Teddy replied, easily meeting
his friend's gaze and pointing to his book bag on the table in front of him.
"Too much time with Quidditch practice this week, you know, and another
tomorrow. And with N.E.W.T.s coming in f—"
"Four months time, yeah, I know. They remind us every bloody week."
Teddy chuckled. "Annoying, isn't it? Like a death sentence. You'd think they'd
show some confidence instead of trying to have us all committed to St Mungo's.
Even O.W.L.s weren't this bad. Cushing's about ready to crack."
"Eh, no loss there, he's a stonking great git. Maybe if we all fail, they get
sacked."
"Hmmm, that's a thought. Anyway, Professor Carlyle'll have my head if I don't
turn this essay in Monday, and I don't want to risk him docking me from playing
next Saturday."
"He wouldn't do that, would he? To his own house? You're the captain!"
Teddy shrugged and reached for the zipper on his bag. "Dunno, and I'd rather
not find out. I'll meet up with you lot later at the Broomsticks. And have some
pity on Gwen. Or rather her mouth, and don't try to chew off her tongue this
time."
"Hey! I did not try to—we were snogging! Well, a bit more, after, but that part
was strictly snoggage. You should try it sometime."
Teddy closed his eyes and concentrated, his hair lengthening and turning a
darker brown, his face fluid and flowing into the image, fuller lips pouting
even as his jaw softened into femininity.
"Is that an invitation?" he asked, batting his eyelashes and pitching his voice
higher. He grinned and ducked Simon's swipe at his head, and relaxed his
features back into his own. "I know what snogging is, you prat. Not to brag,"
he said airily, buffing his fingernails on the front of his robes, "but I'm
quite adept at it myself, and that was definitely not snogging."
Simon rolled his eyes and Teddy grinned wider. "Smart arse. You think so, hmm?
You look better as a girl, you know. Next time you should grow some tits, too.
Hey! Can you? Grow tits, I mean. All these years and I've never asked."
Teddy tried to look appalled. "You're such a pervert."
"Just figuring that out now, are you? So can you?"
"If you think I'm going to tell you now. Next thing, you'll be climbing into my
bed at night, groping and feeling me up."
"You should be so lucky." Simon grinned and leaned closer. "Gwen says I'm very
good with my hands," he stage whispered.
Teddy rolled his eyes and playfully pushed his friend away. "Makes up for your
ineptitude with your mouth I suppose."
"Bastard," Simon said, grinning and pulling his gloves from his pocket. "Just
for that, you're buying the first round. No swotting all day. Meet us around
one, and don't be too late," he added, and smacked Teddy over the head with his
gloves.
Teddy rubbed his head and sat down in the chair, pulling his book bag closer as
he watched his laughing friend leave through the portrait hole. He might as
well make it look good.
"Lying, Mr Lupin? And you a prefect, too. Tsk Tsk."
Teddy looked up at the portrait. "What? What'd I say? He really was trying to
chew her tongue off. Well, maybe it was more like trying to suck it right out
of her mouth than outright chewing. But there were teeth involved. You should
have seen it. No sense of artistry at all."
"I'll take your word for it. But no, I was commenting on the Transfiguration
essay part. Would that be the same essay you were up all night writing two
nights ago?"
"Oh, that." Teddy blushed and glanced around the common room. There were a few
first-and second-year students sitting on the couches and chairs by the
fireplace, now that the older students weren't there to shoo them away, and
none of them were paying any attention to him.
"Yes, that," Cedric's portrait said, looking amused. "Up to something, are
you?"
Teddy shrugged. "I just have something I need to do, and I didn't want to have
to explain. It's, well, it's a bit personal is all."
Cedric nodded and fell silent. He usually was silent, which was a bit unusual
for a portrait in this school, but he was new to Hogwarts. Teddy had returned
from summer holidays at the start of seventh year to find that the large framed
photograph of Cedric had been replaced. The Fat Friar had told them, quietly,
that Cedric's mother had passed away that summer—his father having died long
ago during the war—and since they'd had no other children, his mother had
bequeathed the portrait to Hogwarts.
Everyone had clambered to talk to him, of course. Cedric Diggory was something
of a legend in Hufflepuff: Former prefect and Quidditch captain, and Tri-Wizard
Champion, well, co-champion, but that detail was usually overlooked by most in
his house, and fallen war hero.
The Legend of Cedric Diggory had, as all legends tend to, grown with the
telling. Cedric's portrait-self never really commented on the stories, and
politely deflected most questions put to it—him, choosing instead to smile
somewhat mysteriously. Teddy had asked his godfather over the Christmas
holidays, his curiosity near to bursting. Harry had been reluctant, and it was
obvious that a few details were missing from the story when he finally
relented. Teddy had already known about the various Tri-Wizard tasks -- he'd
found every archived Prophet article he could, and there were several books
that referenced the events, including three unauthorised biographies about
Harry himself which, with few exceptions, were complete rubbish. Still, he'd
spoken with Hermione and Ron and George over the years, and he knew enough to
fill in most of the gaps.
It was the personal details he was interested in anyway, particularly what
Harry himself thought about Cedric and, of course, what had really transpired
in the cemetery that night long ago.
Teddy hadn't confided the truth to his friends and housemates; if they wanted
to believe that Cedric had been killed in a duel with Voldemort -- after
fighting off a dozen Death Eaters in a desperate attempt to protect and save
poor, young Harry -- he wouldn't disabuse them of the notion. Despite the
outrageous exaggerations, Cedric had been a hero, and that was what really
mattered.
Teddy reached into his bag and withdrew the map. He sat back in his chair and
ran his finger down the blank face of the parchment. It was his most prized
possession, and he carried it with him nearly everywhere he went. The fact that
it was dead useful was only secondary.
"Cedric?" Teddy said, glancing thoughtfully up at the portrait. "Can I ask you
something?"
Cedric inclined his head and raised his eyebrows.
"It's nothing personal, I mean, not about you. I know you don't like to talk
about yourself. But I've wanted to ask. You, um, you knew my father when he
taught Defence, didn't you?"
Cedric nodded. "That was my fifth year. Back then, we never had a Defence
professor last for more than a year, and most of them were pretty awful. Not
your dad though. In fact, if it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have done
nearly as well on my O.W.L."
"So he was a good teacher?"
"Got an Outstanding, so I'd say so. You must have known that already though."
"Well, Harry said so, and so did Ron and Hermione, and George and Ginny, too,
but I figured they were probably a bit biased, all things considered."
"Harry's your godfather, yeah? I don't mean to eavesdrop, only it's kind of
hard not to." Cedric faked a cough into his fist and smiled. "All things
considered."
Teddy grinned back. "Yeah. He, uh, he sort of told me what really happened.
That night, you know." He ducked his head. "Well, all right, I admit it. I
pestered him until he gave in. I haven't told anyone else though."
"They probably wouldn't believe you anyway. They wouldn't believe me, either,
so I don't bother to correct them. It's kind of nice, the dashing hero thing,
but don't tell anyone I said that."
"Cross my heart," Teddy said, gesturing. Cedric was a hero, and he found
himself thinking, as he often did, that he would have liked to have known
him—the real Cedric—that they'd have got on well. But at least he could talk to
his portrait; get a sense of the boy—young man—he'd been. There was no portrait
of Remus Lupin, and that tore at him more than he would ever admit to anyone.
"So, my father. You liked him then? Despite…"
"Despite?"
"Well," he glanced around again, making sure they were still alone. "You know
what, um, what he was and all…."
"Oh, right. That." Cedric shrugged. "Yes, I liked him anyway. I'll admit it was
a hell of a shock. I didn't believe it at first, you know. But then, well, like
I said. I liked him. He was a good teacher, fair, and he was always nice to me.
And he had a pretty good sense of humour, too. It wasn't his fault he was, you
know, a Gryffindor."
Teddy rolled his eyes and stood up. "Very funny. Least he had the good taste to
marry my mum, and she was Hufflepuff. Anyway, thanks. I have to go. I'll see
you later."
"Should do. Pretty decent chance I'll be right here when you get back."
Teddy grunted and shook his head, shouldering his bag. "Is that portrait
humour?"
Cedric shrugged. "By the way, I'm curious. Can you?"
"Can I what?"
"Grow tits?"
Teddy laughed. "I think I'll just let you mull that over for a bit." He left
the common room and touched his wand to the map, checking to make sure his
route to the seventh floor corridor was clear.
When he reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, he checked the map again
before wiping it clear and stowing it back in his bag. He faced the blank wall,
ready to begin what he thought of as the ritual of calling the room when a
prickle of apprehension stole over him, starting in his lower abdomen and
crawling upward, racing outward down his limbs in a ripple of gooseflesh. It
had seemed like such a good idea when he'd thought of it over Christmas
holidays, but now that he was finally standing here, ready to carry out his
plan, it seemed ridiculous and stupid.
The Room of Requirement could do many things, but conjuring a ghost or shade of
a dead man was beyond even its magical capacity. It was a dumb idea and he was
a fool to think it could work. He threw up his hands and turned to go, then
stopped. He wasn't a coward. Or perhaps he was. No, it was the idea that was
stupid, utterly daft. He'd known that all along, and had allowed his hopes and
desire to overrule logic. Still, maybe there was something. Even though it
wasn't on the map, he was sure his father and friends had found this room, and
had used it for plenty of nefarious purposes in their day. Perhaps the room
would remember and show him, like a Pensieve of sorts.
"Right. Never know unless I try." He took a deep breath, closed his eyes
briefly and began to pace. I want to know my father. Show me my father.
Anything about him, the real him, something he did when he was here. Please. I
just want to know more about him. I need to know.
He stopped when he saw the door appear in the wall. He walked over and reached
for the handle, then dropped his badly shaking hand. His tongue felt like the
dried parchment of the map in his mouth, and his heart was literally hammering
in his chest.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" he said aloud, and grasped the handle. Why was he
being so pathetic? He closed his eyes, opened the door and stepped inside—
—and felt his stomach drop as the floor beneath his feet plummeted. He shouted
and opened his eyes, but everything was black and the darkness swallowed his
words. He couldn't even see his own hands which, at that moment, were flailing
for something to hold onto. The silent void was thick and heavy, and he
struggled to breathe, to blink, the nothingness consuming him whole.
Then suddenly there was a rectangle of light, and he hurtled toward it, through
it. The door slammed behind him, and he was on his hands and knees, gulping for
air, and blinking up at the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing
trolls. He got to his feet and turned around, but the door had vanished.
"Shit!" He kicked the wall and exclaimed again, grabbing his foot and hopping.
He limped back and glared at the wall. "Hang it all! What the bloody hell was
that?" He swung his leg back to kick the wall again, and then thought better of
it, his toe still throbbing.
He was a little surprised at how angry he was. Yes, the room had literally
thrown him out, and he had no idea what had happened, or why, and those few
seconds of blind panic had startled him. It was his disappointment, however,
that had cut bone deep. The room had raised his hopes and then struck him down,
and that stung both his heart and his pride. Still, getting angry at a room was
rather absurd and, under different circumstances, he'd probably laugh at his
own folly.
He stared at the wall for a few minutes more, and concluded that the problem
lay in the wording of his request. It couldn't hurt to try again. He paced up
and down the corridor for a good half hour, but no door appeared at all in
response to his pleas.
Frustrated and infuriated, he picked up his bag and stormed off. A long soak in
the prefect's bathtub sounded like a good idea right now, and with most of the
school off in Hogsmeade, he'd have it all to himself.
**
Two hours later, his fingers and toes looked like sickly, blanched prunes, but
he felt a lot better as he made his way back to the common room. He'd put his
silly adventure from his mind and it was time to meet his friends at the pub.
He could do with a few drinks as well as the distraction his friends would
provide.
When he reached the painting at the dormitory entrance, he reached out to tap
and stroke the sequence on the flower petals and stopped, staring. Someone had
changed the flower arrangement.
"Oh, for—who the hell? Can nothing go right today?" He sighed, suddenly feeling
very weary, and stomped off back upstairs to find Professor Carlyle, muttering
about the audacity of the buggering lower-year prefects. He knocked loudly on
the door to his office, but there was no response.
The portrait of Sir Stockton Stockbridge, irritated at the disruption to his
afternoon nap, grudgingly confirmed that the professor had gone out earlier.
"The Professor doesn't tell me where she's going, young man. Do I look like an
appointment secretary? I tell you, the lack of respect in this school is
appalling. Portraits treated rudely – harassed, even attacked, stabbed, and
startled right out of their frames! Can't even enjoy an afternoon nap these
days. It's shameful."
Teddy coughed politely and turned away from the portrait before rolling his
eyes. Dotty old bastard was always talking nonsense anyway. He might as well
just go to Hogsmeade along with everyone else, and Simon would have to buy.
Pity.
He'd have to forego his cloak and use a warming charm. Hopefully it wasn't too
windy; his warming charms didn't hold up well in a stiff wind. He was
contemplating a nice Firewhisky-induced stupor when he turned the corner of the
first floor landing and nearly knocked over two younger students.
"Oh, sorry," he said, reaching out to steady a small, dark-haired boy. "You
okay?"
"Fine," the boy mumbled, straightening his glasses.
"You should watch where you're going, you know," his red-haired companion said
unkindly.
Teddy saw the boy's red and gold scarf and rolled his eyes. Bloody Gryffindors.
"And you should watch your tone with a prefect or you just might lose some
House points next time."
"Yeah, right. C'mon Harry, better go before Percy shows up, too," the boy
replied, and tugged on his friend's arm. The dark-haired boy looked
apologetically back at him and then followed his friend upstairs.
Teddy rolled his eyes and continued down the stairs and outside, this time
paying a bit more attention. The weather was milder than he had expected, the
snow from last night having melted into a slushy mud, and his warming charm
worked rather well until he approached the front gates.
An icy chill swept over him, through him, as if his bones had frozen solid, and
despair seemed to settle around his shoulders like a mantle.
Just ahead of him, hovering outside the gates like a decaying black cloud, were
two Dementors. He stared at them in disbelief, shivering with cold and growing
fear, frozen in place, his wand pointed uselessly at the ground.
Something silvery-white streaked across the air and the Dementors darted away,
taking the icy oppressiveness with them.
"Sorry 'bout that. They've been a bit excitable today with all the comin' and
goin'."
Teddy blinked at the man who was now standing at the gate. He was dressed in
Auror robes, and he was still pointing his wand in the direction of the fleeing
Dementors. Aurors and Dementors at Hogwarts. Dementors at Hogwarts, and this
Auror was acting as if it were a normal occurrence.
"You okay, kid? Sometimes people come over a bit queer from 'em. Nasty things
they are. Useful though. If anyone's gonna catch Black, they will, and believe
me, it won't be pretty when they do."
Teddy had no idea what the man was talking about. He was still staring, mouth
hanging open and his eyes wide, wondering when he'd hit himself on the head and
had started hallucinating. Maybe he was still in the bath and he'd fallen
asleep on a cloud of foam. Or perhaps he'd drowned.
"Kid? You don't look too good. Bit green around the gills. Maybe you wanna head
back up to the school there. Have a bit of a lie down."
Teddy nodded and managed to stop gaping. "Yes, that's, yes, a good idea." He
turned, still in a daze, and slowly walked back up to the school. The younger
students were filing into the Great Hall for lunch, and he saw those two
Gryffindor boys again, this time accompanied by a girl. He nodded at the boy -
- Harry, his friend had called him. That one was easy to remember, and funny,
he almost looked—
"You just wait, Potter! You'll get yours! You and Weasel and the Mudblood!"
A blond boy with a Slytherin badge on his robes and a sneer on his face had
ascended from the dungeons, flanked by two larger boys, and was stalking toward
the three Gryffindors in the doorway. The red-haired boy made a rude hand
gesture before his friends restrained and yanked him into the Great Hall.
Teddy watched them disappear, backing up slowly. He banged his hip painfully on
a doorknob, and managed to find the presence of mind to open the door and close
it behind him right before his knees gave way, and he collapsed onto the floor
of the small, dark chamber.
After a few minutes of some needful hyperventilating, he fumbled into his
pocket for his wand and nearly ripped open his bag in search of the map. His
hands were sweating so badly that he had trouble holding his wand.
"Lumos. I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said in a shaky voice.
He quickly found the Great Hall on the map, his eyes ignoring everything but
the Gryffindor table. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger. The three
black dots swam before his eyes. He felt dizzy, and his stomach was a giant
knot. When his gaze inadvertently slid to the dots clustered around at the Head
table, he was promptly sick all over his trainers.
***** Chapter 2: some kind of miracle *****
Chapter 2: some kind of miracle
Teddy didn't know how long he stayed in that little room. It could have been an
hour or even days for all he knew. Time had frozen, reversed, twisted inward on
itself and left him reeling and dazed, and he had no idea how to cope or what
to do.
It was nature that brought him back to himself when he realised that he badly
needed to have a piss. Unwilling to disregard propriety or risk experimentation
with vanishing spells in his current state—he was mindful enough to recognise
the dangers of accidentally vanishing his bladder along with its contents—he
cleaned himself up as best he could with a few spells, waited until the
Entrance Hall was clear, and sought out the nearest empty bathroom.
As he stood relieving himself in a stall in the first floor boy's bathroom, he
wrinkled his nose at an odour in the air, raised his arm and sniffed. Eugh! He
stank something awful. He'd practically sweated through to his robes, and
seeing as he didn't have a change of clothes, he was going to need another
bath. Cleaning charms were effective on dirt and stains, but they didn't
dissipate odours, and he could only do so much at a sink.
It was fairly late in the evening now, and although he couldn't be sure of the
exact time, he knew from the events of the day that his watch was fairly close
to the local time, give or take an hour. He checked the map again, saw the dots
of two students leaving the prefects' bath, and realised with a start that the
password had been the same here as it was in his own time. He left the
bathroom, taking every shortcut and hidden passageway he could up to the fifth
floor corridor.
He stripped off and was in the bath before it was even half full. He knew he
couldn't hide here for long, and he wasn't about to march up to the current
headmaster—Merlin! That would be Professor Dumbledore! Definitely not!—and
announce his presence. He couldn't knock on his father's door either. What
would he say? Hi, Dad? I've got a bit of a problem? Mind if I bunk with you for
a bit?
Harry was practically a sprog, as were Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Professor
Longbottom. He considered finding his 'Uncle' George and was once again shocked
by the realisation that George's twin, Fred, would also be here. Again, what
would he say to them? He didn't think their fifteen-year-old selves would be
very discreet either.
Mucking about with time was a bad thing. Just his presence here could disrupt
the future, and interacting with his family could cause a catastrophic paradox,
possibly prevent him from being born. He ducked his head under the water to
rinse off and swam over to the side. He had to think, had to be logical, and he
needed to wash his soiled clothing.
Making sure his pockets were empty, he dunked them one by one into the soapy
water, and gave them all a quick scrub. He had only the one set—a robe, jeans,
a t-shirt, underpants and one pair of socks—and they were going to have to last
unless he could manage to pilfer something else. He was going to have to go
back to the Room of Requirement, too. There was no help for it. It was the only
place he could hide safely. If it let him in this time.
It took him far too long to dry his clothing, and his jeans were still damp
when he put them back on. Checking the map again, he considered detouring to
the kitchens, but his stomach was still a bit queasy and he was far too
exhausted to care about food. He crept from the bath until he was once again
standing before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. He was filled with
apprehension; he knew he shouldn't be here, knew that every minute he remained
was a risk, but what if the room sent him back home? He'd asked to see his
father, that was why he was here, and the thought of leaving without having
seen more of him than a dot on the map filled him with dread. But he couldn't
stand out here all night.
I need a place to hide, a place to sleep, but please—I'm not ready to go back
yet. Don't send me back, just give me a warm, quiet place to sleep and to
think.
When the door appeared, the room inside held exactly what he'd asked for: a
four-poster bed covered in yellow drapery beside a marble-mantled fireplace. It
was a small room, but it was warm, the walls flickering orange and yellow with
reflected firelight, a plush looking rug on the floor beside, and a small night
table, which held a tea tray, steam curling lazily from the spout of the
teapot.
He stripped off his clothing, laying it carefully at the foot of the bed,
ignored the tea and climbed under the blankets and, despite the anxieties of
the day, was asleep within minutes.
**
The first few days were disorienting. His dreams were full of strange images
where nothing made sense, and when he woke, he'd forget where—and when—he was,
until he pulled back the hangings and found the unfamiliar room beyond. Then it
would all come rushing back to him: his heartbeat intensified, his stomach
rumbled with nausea, and he gasped as the air rushed from his lungs, leaving
him dizzy.
Upon request, the room provided a place to wash and a toilet, which was very
accommodating, and he thanked it, feeling silly, but still wanting to appear
gracious. It could manage tea, but if he wanted food, he was going to have to
visit the kitchens; he couldn't very well stroll into the Great Hall and find
an empty seat.
The map was a godsend, though he was reluctant to venture too far those first
couple of days. Feeling emboldened on his second day, he had decided to walk
past his father's classroom on the way back from the kitchens. He'd only just
heard his voice when a sense of deep sadness and loss nearly overwhelmed him.
He'd stumbled away, tears blinding him, and he'd run, somehow managing to get
back to his room where he threw himself onto the bed, curled up into a ball,
and cried like a little boy.
He'd berated himself afterward for being an unmanly, snivelling coward, but it
turned out to be the catharsis that he'd needed. His fear and paralysing shock
seemed to have flowed out of him amidst the tears, and he felt himself
returning to a semblance of normalcy. Well, as normal as one could be when they
were stranded out of time.
Another roommate of his, Gordon, who was Muggleborn, had introduced Simon and
himself to the joys of the Muggle cinema and telly; in particular, science
fiction films and programs, and several of them had featured elements of time
travel. Augmented by his own studies, he knew all about paradoxes and the
dangers of time travel, and he kept this knowledge forefront in his mind as
often as possible.
He'd returned the next day and stood once again outside in the hall, listening,
while his father lectured—no, not lectured. Professor Binns lectured. His
father taught, interacting with the students, challenging them and drawing them
out, his manner easy-going and cheerful. He still felt that wrench of loss deep
in his belly, but he did not cry. He listened, closing his eyes when he dared,
and letting his father's voice flow over him, drawing strength and courage.
This was what he had asked for, and while he was aware of the old proverb that
said "be careful what you wish for", he also wasn't going to let opportunity
pass him by. For good or ill, the room had granted his wish, and he wasn't
going to waste it. He didn't know how he would get home, but he wasn't quite
ready to explore that avenue just yet. He was here, and that's what mattered.
No regrets, he promised himself, whatever happens.
**
He liked coming to the library. He could be both visible and invisible here in
a way he couldn't anywhere else in the school. The stern librarian—Madame
Pince, he'd overheard—obviously brooked no inappropriate behaviour, and would
have no qualms evicting anyone, from Headmaster to Head Boy if she felt
warranted, so the students generally kept to themselves and their studies. Most
of the student body were in classes during the day, so it was easy to hide at
his favourite, partially-concealed table behind huge stacks of dusty tomes that
probably hadn't been read in over a century.
The students of this era were little different from his own, with the exception
of certain hairstyles, musical tastes, and a wary look in their eyes when they
happened to glance out a window. The effects of the Dementors couldn't be felt
within the stone walls of the castle, not physically anyway, but the mere
awareness of their close proximity was enough, coupled with the wildly
exaggerated and persistent rumours about Sirius Black's break-in a month ago.
Teddy bit his lip and frowned. He'd skimmed through several recent and back-
issues of the Prophet, and it had been strange indeed to know more about the
present situation than anyone else. Harry's godfather, who was innocent and
searching desperately for the rat, Pettigrew. The temptation to go running to
his father or even to the forest or the Shrieking Shack in search of Black
himself was overwhelming at times. Even now he found himself glancing out the
window, searching the grounds and the periphery of the forest for a big black
dog.
Sirius had died years before Teddy had been born, but Teddy had grown up
thinking of the man as family even beyond his blood kinship to his mother and
grandmother. It was Sirius' importance to his father and Harry that made him
important to Teddy, and fed his helpless frustrations. It would be so easy, he
thought. I could save him, I could save them all. It's still early enough, and
war hasn't yet come. The temptation was a palpable thing; he could feel it
thrumming in his bones, pulsing behind his temples, whispering to him just
beyond his range of hearing, awake and asleep.
He glanced at one of the more useful books he'd managed to filch from the
restricted section two nights ago—"Time Travel Travesties: tempest in a teapot
or tempting fate too far?"—and sighed. He could do nothing, certainly nothing
as overt as blatantly changing history. The Muggle theories weren't all that
different from wizarding theories, except that wizards had found a way to
manipulate the time stream with magic, and had gone beyond theoretical musings
into experimental facts. Of a sort. After all, if someone went back in time and
did manage to kill their grandfather, ensuring they were never born, how would
anyone be able to observe it? Logic demanded that a person in that position
would cease to exist immediately.
The book, however, had indicated that it was indeed possible, logic be damned,
and there were several accounts written by wizard time travellers themselves,
claiming that they remained alive in the past even after disposing of their
ancestor. There were further written accounts stating said persons would stay
alive as long as they didn't return to the future where they no longer existed.
This made no sense to Teddy, and his mind twisted in circles trying to follow
the logic. If a person didn't exist, even in the future, how would he then
travel to the past in the first place to commit the murder? And if they didn't
immediately pop out of existence, what happened when time eventually caught up
to that future on its own? It was a paradox no matter how one viewed it, and
even factoring magic into the equation, it still made no sense at all. Not to
mention that he simply couldn't imagine anybody doing something so daft on
purpose in the first place. The whole thing gave him a headache.
There were a number of passages in the book which emphasised the probabilities
of erasing one's own existence, though he was sceptical about the chances of
doing so by the act of swatting a single fly or disturbing a single blade of
grass or pebble. Still, he watched where he walked and in deference, had
refrained from stepping on any insects if he could help it. And he promised
himself that he wouldn't kill his parents or his grandparents under any
circumstances.
A low chuckle from somewhere nearby pulled him from his musings, and he looked
up slowly to see a tall brown-haired boy and a shorter blond sit down at the
next table where they were soon joined by two other boys. He watched them as
surreptitiously as he could for a short while, and was about to go back to his
various musings, when the brown-haired boy pushed back his chair with a scrape,
turned and murmured something to the boy next to him. Teddy gasped and froze.
Cedric Diggory turned his head sharply in Teddy's direction and saw him
watching. Teddy knew he should look away, look anywhere else, but his body
seemed bent on ignoring his thoughts. Seconds ticked by until finally Cedric
winked, a crooked grin on his face, then stood up and stretched before walking
off towards one of the numerous rows of bookshelves.
Teddy exhaled slowly once their eye contact was broken. He was wearing a
different face again today, and once again, nobody had seemed to pay him much
mind. In fact, this was the first time he'd allowed himself to make eye contact
with anyone. His heart was beating a staccato in his chest, and every crease
and crevice on his body was sweating as he continued to watch Cedric until he
disappeared down a narrow aisle. He'd seen Cedric's dot on the map that first
day, and many days since, and felt a start of surprise every time, but seeing
him in person, real, flesh and blood and three-dimensional, was a terrific
shock.
In some ways, it was more shocking than seeing either his father or Harry. He'd
listened to dozens of his father's classes, standing outside the door, and he'd
only seen him very briefly or at a distance. In his mind, Remus Lupin was still
something of a mystical figure, and he was still biding his time for an
opportunity to have a real conversation with him. The conversation would be
easy enough if he posed as a student; it was his inner turmoil that stayed his
hand. This was his father, and the thought that their only encounter would be a
lie troubled him. He could lie to his friends and teachers when he had to, he
could even lie to Harry about small, unimportant things. This was neither small
nor unimportant, and he did not want to lie to his father.
Harry was a child here, and nothing like the godfather he knew. He'd watched
Harry and his friends on several occasions, but it was with a sense of fond
amusement. It was difficult to reconcile child-Harry with his Harry. Time was a
barrier, and in this case, a welcome one as it helped him keep his distance and
perspective.
Cedric, however, looked very similar to his portrait, though less stiff and
formal, and much more at ease. In those few seconds when Cedric had looked
right at him, his eyes were alive and friendly, and filled with a liveliness
that no amount of artistry and magic could convey on canvas.
He wiped sweaty hands on his robes and quickly looked down when he saw Cedric
returning, book in hand. He turned his body slowly to the right, inching his
chair closer to the edge of the table, and angling himself towards Cedric's
table. He shook his head so his long black fringe fell across his eyes. He
could still see clearly through the strands, but anyone watching him wouldn't
be able to tell, or so he hoped.
Cedric was whispering animatedly to his friends, flipping through pages and
pointing excitedly, his hands moving in an intricate dance as he spoke with
expansive gestures, explaining something to do with Itchington's Third Law of
Human Transfiguration, which Teddy remembered from his O.W.L. exams almost two
years earlier.
He rested his chin on his fist and stared at Cedric's hands, so expressive,
long fingers giving shape and emphasis to his words. The portrait's hands were
flat and dulled in comparison, paint pigments dulling colour, canvas altering
texture, depth a mere expression of the artist's skill, not a true
representation of the real boy.
A drop of perspiration was angling its way along Cedric's hairline, and he
watched, fascinated, as it moved, sliding along his lightly-stubbled cheek,
beading along his jaw before Cedric's hand carelessly swiped at it, too
engrossed in conversation to pay it more mind. Cedric's portrait
didn't—couldn't—sweat and always appeared clean-shaven. It was a real life tale
of Pinocchio.
It was warm in the library, and he squirmed in his seat, feeling at once
exhilarated and uncomfortable, and wishing he'd worn his jeans under his robes
today. He looked at his watch and realised that he needed to leave. He'd been
here for nearly an hour and a half, and he couldn't afford to attract too much
attention. He'd have to find a bathroom or cupboard, or even an unused
classroom, and change his appearance again. Quietly gathering his books
together, he reluctantly stood up and walked away just as another boy, handsome
and fit, and wearing a Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain's badge, called out to
Cedric.
"Oi! Diggory! A word with you."
Teddy turned towards the exit and saw Madame Pince striding towards him, a
steely expression on her face. He ducked out of her way, quickly exiting the
library to escape her tirade.
"Out! Mr Davies! You too, Mr Diggory! I'm surprised at you! This is not—"
Teddy grinned as the doors closed behind him.
***** Chapter 3: ambitions like ribbons *****
Chapter 3: ambitions like ribbons
"Faster," Cedric said, panting as sweat streamed down his face, and he groaned,
pressing his lips together to muffle the sound. Roger had him pinned up against
the wall, pressing his shoulder almost painfully against Cedric's collarbone.
Roger chuckled and tightened his grip, continuing the slow pace up and down
Cedric's cock. "M'not ready yet. You're being greedy today."
Cedric narrowed his eyes, then grinned. He grabbed Roger's arse with his right
hand and pinched, and Roger yelped, letting go.
"Don't touch my arse, you bloody poof."
Cedric rolled his eyes. Right, because holding another bloke's cock in your
hand and jerking him off didn't make you a shirt-lifter. He twisted his body
and slammed Roger up against the back wall of the cupboard, and leaned in
close. He could feel Roger's breath on his chin, but it was too dark to see
anything. A mop fell over and smacked him in the head, and he impatiently
brushed it away, wincing as it clattered loudly to the floor.
"Right," Cedric said, once the noise died away, "where were we? Oh yeah, you
were jerking me off."
"Idiot!" Roger spluttered. "Someone'll hear!"
"Shush. How many times have we done this now? Nobody's gonna hear," Cedric
said, bracing himself against the wall with his left hand, and reaching under
Roger's robes with his right. He grinned when Roger groaned and a hand fumbled
to grab at his still-hard cock. "That's a good boy, Davies," he murmured. "Was
beginning to think you'd forgotten how."
"Fuck you," Roger gasped.
"Some other time," Cedric replied, speeding up his strokes as Roger thrust into
his hand. "Now who's a greedy bastard?"
"Bloody…poof," Roger said, panting heavily in the darkness, but sped up the
pace of his own stroking to match Cedric's. "Fuck, gonna come, gonna…"
"Faster," Cedric said again, thrusting his own hips, his hand jerking roughly
at Roger's cock, and turned his head to the side, biting his upper arm and
closing his eyes, his face scrunched with tension, pulse roaring in his ears.
"Aaah!" he cried out, unable to keep his head from falling back as he came. His
sticky hand told him Roger had finished as well, and he released him, turning
away and slumping against the wall beside him.
He heard a rustling of cloth and felt Roger's arm brushing against his.
"Lumos. Merlin's balls, Diggory. Your aim is still crap. Scourgify."
Cedric blinked in the sudden light and turned his head away, still feeling the
euphoria of orgasm and not ready to move just yet. Three months on, and Davies
was still a cunt. Wanking's supposed to be messy, you arse. He kept his tongue,
however, and concentrated on relaxing his breathing.
Roger straightened his robes, his wand still lighting the small broom cupboard.
"You coming?"
"I just did," Cedric said, smirking.
Roger snorted. "Tosser."
Cedric raised his eyebrows. "What is it with you Ravenclaws? No sense of
humour. Besides, you started it."
"I started it? The bet was your idea, Diggory, and need I remind you, you
lost."
"That was months ago, last term, and it was meant as a one time thing. How many
times has it been since? Five? Six?" Actually, this was the eighth time,
altogether. Not that he was keeping track or anything. "And I meant today. You
were the one who came up to me. 'Oi, Diggory, I need a word!'" he said,
imitating Roger's clipped tone. "You needed more than a word, eh?"
"Fuck off." Roger looked at his feet and shuffled a bit, kicking the felled mop
against the shelves along the side wall. "Probably best if we leave separately,
anyway. I'll see you around."
Cedric nodded and slid the rest of the way down the wall as Roger left, taking
the light with him. The reek of sex was pungent in the dark, musty smelling
cupboard, and he leaned back against the wall, pulling his knees up toward his
chest, resting his arms and his head against them.
The bet.
The bet he had meant in jest, initially, but his pride wouldn't allow him to
retract in the face of Davies' mockery. He'd certainly had a sense of humour
then.
"Loser sucks the winner off? Do I look like a bloody poof?"
Cedric had cringed inwardly, but his face showed as much teasing scorn as he
could muster. "No, you look like a twat. Scared you'll lose? I didn't know you
were such a bloody coward, Davies. Imagine that," he'd said, lifting his chin
defiantly, "a chicken afraid of a cock."
Davies had been incredulous, and Cedric had to admit to himself that he'd been
far too cheeky about the whole thing. Pride is a fucking bastard. They'd gone
back and forth with the insults and finally settled on a wank, which was a bit
less ostentatious than a blow job. And good thing, too, seeing as Ravenclaw had
completely flattened Hufflepuff, and he hadn't really relished the idea of
Davies' cock anywhere near his mouth to begin with. He was convinced that the
things men did in the name of arrogance would someday be the downfall of his
entire gender.
Cedric had taken a nasty Bludger to the back, which allowed Cho to grab the
Snitch from right under his nose. She'd been gracious and almost apologetic
about it, and he was fairly sure she'd been flirting with him besides, but
she'd been sweet nonetheless. Davies had crowed like the cock that he was, the
cock that Cedric was about to become intimately familiar with.
He shook his head, smiling sardonically in the dark at the memory, as he took
his wand from his pocket and cleaned himself off. The cupboard still smelled of
sex.
Davies was a bit of a prick, completely full of himself, and he preened when
the girls made cow eyes at him. He could pull practically anyone he wanted,
whenever he wanted, but he hadn't pulled in months now. Not since Gilly had
dumped him, humiliated him rather spectacularly, in front of half the school in
the Three Broomsticks on Halloween. Well, he's pulled me. Or my cock, anyway,
he thought, chuckling ruefully.
He had no idea why he continued this…charade. And it was a charade. He wasn't
attracted to Davies, though he conceded that he was quite fit. And these
encounters were far from romantic. It was all about ego, something they both
had in spades, although Cedric liked to think that he was extremely humble in
comparison. He knew he was competitive, and he was honest enough with himself
to admit that he was good looking and intelligent, and a damn fine Quidditch
player, and he could pull just as well as Davies could—if he wanted to. But he
still wasn't a conceited prick like Davies.
He liked girls, their soft breasts and delicate fingers, the sweet scent of
their hair as they brushed past him in the halls. He'd dated Evangeline last
year, and he took Reyna to Hogsmeade last Halloween—where they'd witnessed
Gilly's tirade—but neither of the girls had been willing to explore the more
physical side of the relationship, not the way he wanted, and Cedric was too
much of a gentleman to take what wasn't offered. Snogging was expected, of
course, and Angie had let him feel her up a couple of times, but she balked at
the idea of touching him in return. Not where it counted. What was it about
birds, anyway?
The rough physicality of these encounters with Davies had surprised him, and
excited him. Wanking was fantastic: he loved how his own cock felt in his hand,
and he did it often, but this…. There was a power in it, an element of
recklessness that was completely different from his slow, hesitant encounters
with girls, and also different from his own solo explorations.
Having another bloke's hand—large like his own, and rough, callused and
strong—touching him was arousing beyond anything he'd experienced before. It
had frightened him at first, and it still did. Lately he found himself
wondering what it would be like to kiss a bloke, but he wasn't ready to try,
and he certainly didn't want to try with Davies. Davies would knock out his
teeth if he tried, anyway, and the thought of spending a night in the infirmary
growing them back was even a less pleasant thought.
He still liked girls, though. Maybe it was an adolescent thing, to do with
hormones. He wasn't worried. Not much, anyway, though he wasn't about to
discuss it with any of his friends. Some things should remain private, and as
outgoing as he was, he was still discreet. Davies could call him all the names
he wanted; he didn't care a fig what a prick like him thought. They got off
with each other occasionally and nothing more.
He got to his feet, tucked himself back into his pants, and stowed his wand
back in his pocket. It was getting late and he was hungry. He pressed the
button on his watch and '4:46' glowed in the air. Dinner was still nearly an
hour away. Maybe a side trip to the kitchens was in order. He picked up his
book bag from the floor next to the door and tripped over the mop head,
stumbling out into the corridor.
He caught his balance and pulled the door closed behind him, tugging on his
robes which had snagged in the elastic of his pants, and adjusted himself. He
turned around to leave and started back in surprise at a tall, blond-haired
student who was standing in the middle of the hall only a few feet away,
holding a piece of parchment.
He blushed and raised his chin in a gesture of defiance. "Sorry, didn't see you
there."
The boy didn't say anything, just stared at him, mouth slightly agape.
"Right then, I'm late," Cedric said, frowning. He didn't know this boy,
couldn't remember ever having seen him before, but there was something familiar
about him. Maybe it was the eyes. He looked for a house badge on his robes, but
the parchment obscured his view. The boy was still staring at him, however, and
it was starting to make him feel self-conscious. He inhaled through his nose
and grinned, turning up the charm that served him well in times of unease.
"See ya," he said, and brushed past him, their shoulders touching for the
briefest of moments. He could feel the boy's gaze following him as he walked
away, but resisted the urge to turn around. His stomach rumbled, distracting
him, and his thoughts turned to more important things, like Yorkshire pudding
with beef gravy.
**
Teddy continued to stare long after Cedric had gone. He'd seen him on the map,
and before he'd realised what he was doing, he was standing outside the
cupboard. He desperately wanted to talk to Cedric, although he had no idea what
he would say. Cedric, the real corporeal Cedric, didn't know him. No matter
which face he put on, Cedric still wouldn't know him. Couldn't possibly know
him. It was stupid, he knew that, and he winced at his own foolishness.
"Bugger," he muttered, and leaned up against the wall. The nearby portraits
glanced at him at first, but they quickly returned to their own business. A
student was a student, and even in his own time, most of them wouldn't notice
an extra one. Or twenty.
He'd changed his face so often these last weeks, if anyone had been observing,
they'd realise that something was awry with the budding student population. He
wondered if he should try another tactic. The influx of never-before-seen
students who never attend classes might start to arouse suspicion, if it hadn't
already, though he did make a point of avoiding teachers as often as possible,
and he looked down so often, he'd developed a persistent crick in his neck and
become fairly intimate with his shoes. Hiding from Professor Dumbledore had
become quite the game, made more difficult by the entrance to his office, so
close to the Room of Requirement, but so far, he seemed to be winning.
He watched the map, and saw that Cedric had entered the kitchens. So he knew to
tickle the pear as well. Harry had told him that secret his first year, and he
wondered, idly, who had told Cedric. One thing he'd noticed during his time
here was, despite the terrors looming without, there was a continuity to
Hogwarts. Very little changed over the years. The password to the prefect's
bath was the same; the chain on the toilet in the last stall of the boys' sixth
floor bathroom still stuck when you pulled too hard, and you had to jiggle it
to stop the water from running continuously; The portraits and tapestries,
statues and suits of armour, with very few exceptions—Cedric's portrait being
one he was sure of—were almost exactly as he remembered them, in the same
places they occupied in his time, as they had for centuries.
There was much less inter-house mingling than he was used to in his own time,
but that worked to his advantage. Most students who did notice him would simply
presume he was in another house, and with the bland and unmemorable features
he'd assumed with each new alteration to his appearance, he'd be quickly
forgotten.
The teachers were different, and the faces of the students changed constantly,
but the essence of the building and its atmosphere remained, solid and
dependable, separated from the rest of the world, as if these walls kept their
own time. It was a comfort to him, this place he knew and loved so well, and
the familiarity kept him sane, gave him perspective. With the added benefit of
the map and his Metamorphmagus abilities, it was also turning out to be a grand
adventure, and he grinned, finding himself at peace for the first time in the
month since he'd arrived.
He glanced down at the map and spotted the dot representing Mrs Norris, the
creepy old caretaker's cat, and it was heading in his direction. He wasn't
exactly out of bounds; it was hours until curfew, and he could easily pin his
prefect badge to his robe and avoid trouble with that deception, but it was
best to avoid being seen at all. He found a clear route and headed down towards
the kitchens to wait. He'd hide in the alcove behind his old friend, Casimir
the Boorish of Lickey End.
"…who met with a foul and sticky end…" he sang tunelessly, grinning as he
ducked behind a tapestry, into a hidden passageway.
**
Teddy lay naked on his bed, staring up into the canopy, his hand rubbing
lightly over his groin, idly toying with the beginnings of an erection. It was
still early evening, but he didn't have anywhere to be, and nowhere to really
go, besides. He could only spend so much time in the library and it was always
a risk to wander the halls, map or no. And there were only so many times he
could stare at the dots on the map marked 'Remus Lupin', 'Harry Potter', or
'Cedric Diggory'.
He'd considered going into Hogsmeade many times — he was sure the secret
passageways out of the school could easily get him past the Dementors—but once
he was there he had no place to go either. The three Knuts he'd had in his bag
wouldn't buy him more than a sugar quill at Honeydukes and certainly wouldn't
buy him a Butterbeer or a bottle of Ogden's Old. He thought about going just to
get some fresh air, but he had no cloak, and the notion of freezing his
bollocks off just to wander the streets was not appealing.
So it was either read and revise, play Exploding Snap by himself, or wank in
the evenings, and wanking usually won out by default.
He thought about his friends and family back home, Simon and Gwen, Gordon,
Fezzie, his Gran, Harry and the kids, and wondered if they missed him. If time
was passing there at the same rate, then they would surely know that he'd
vanished. He hadn't told anyone of his idea, so nobody even knew where to look.
Right, as if they'd be able to guess what had happened even if they did know.
He was sure they were worried, probably frantic by now, and he hated that he
was putting them through such grief.
There wasn't anything to be done about it. He couldn't very well give Harry a
letter that said "Do not open until February, 2016", though the notion did
amuse him. He didn't even know if the Room would send him back. The thought
that this was a one-way trip was always there in the back of his mind. The only
way to know for sure would be to try to go home, and he simply wasn't ready to
do that yet. He had something important he needed to do first. When he did get
home, he was sure they'd forgive him, eventually.
He thought about his encounter with Cedric earlier. It had been strange, and
oddly fascinating. He started cataloguing the personality differences he'd
observed between the real Cedric and portrait Cedric to pass the time. Real
Cedric smiled more, laughed and joked with his friends and exuded such
confidence. Not that his portrait-self lacked these qualities completely, but
the fact remained that it was only a replica, and a lonely one at that. Teddy
felt a surge of sympathy with his portrait friend.
Here he was, surrounded by people; people he knew and loved, yet he was utterly
alone.
No Simon to banter and compete with, nobody to have a drink with, revise
with—hell, he had no classes to go to or homework to do in the first place,
though he was making a slight effort at keeping up with his N.E.W.T
studies—nobody who would touch him with any kind of affection. It was a grand
adventure to be sure, but it was lonely as hell.
Oh. He was lonely, he realised as he continued to stroke himself, and that, he
decided, was what made him seek out Cedric earlier. The camaraderie he had with
Cedric's portrait was friendship of a sort, and seeing him today, the same
brown hair and grey eyes, same smile, had simply triggered…what? It didn't
matter. He was fine. He could deal with his temporary loneliness for a few more
weeks. Cedric has his own friends, he didn't need another. Distance was
necessary, kept temptation in abeyance. Cedric's fate was sealed long ago,
written in the stars as the Centaurs would say, and he could do nothing.
He couldn't change the past, could not change it, it was wrong, it was
dangerous, no matter how alive…that cocky grin when he winked at me, graceful
fingers, blood-warm skin…
He came unexpectedly, and it left him bereft and even lonelier than before.
**
Remus stared at the parchment on his desk. He'd taken it from his drawer nearly
every day since he'd confiscated it from Harry, but could not bring himself to
utter the password that would unlock its secrets. It had taken all of his
strength that day to keep his calm before Severus and Harry both. He'd
recognised it immediately, of course. They'd spent countless hours creating it,
pouring so much of their very selves into such a fragile piece of parchment,
and he marvelled at its durability, nearly twenty years on.
It had been their masterpiece, the ultimate tool for the discerning mischief
makers they had been, a work of sheer brilliance. Seeing it again, all these
years later….
But how had Harry come to possess it? Filch had confiscated it two weeks before
they'd left school—they'd been careless returning one night from an
unauthorised post-N.E.W.T. jaunt into Hogsmeade, and their inebriated state had
made it easy for the crotchety caretaker. They'd rudely laughed at him when he
tried to give them detention and, red-faced and furious, Filch had made them
turn out their pockets. Now as a fellow faculty member, he felt some remorse
over the incident, but never enough to actually apologise for all the years of
torment they'd caused him. Those were the happiest times of his life, and while
he had many regrets, too numerous to count, he could not bring himself to feel
remorse for any of those cherished memories.
The memories…. He'd finally reconciled them, or so he thought. Returning here,
even as a favour to Dumbledore, was not something he'd wanted for himself. His
memories of this place were thicker and more plentiful than cobwebs, and
everywhere he turned, they assaulted him. Not a tender brush against his cheek,
but a knife deep in his belly.
For years he'd bottled them up, kept them separate and safe, cherished them as
part of a life that could have been, and in that way, he could live with them.
The more we lie to ourselves, the easier they are to believe, after all. Coming
back had nearly shattered his fragile glass bottle, and it had taken months for
the dreams and nightmares to recede.
Until he'd laid eyes on the map.
The Marauder's Map had been the bursting of a dam and a thousand Reparos
couldn't fix the damage left behind in its wake. The pain and grief of a
thousand nightmares visited upon him daily, and not content to confine
themselves to dreams, they flowed into every waking hour, mingling until
everything he touched was tarnished. The thought of losing any more than he
already had was more than he could bear, so he resorted once again to his game
of self-subterfuge. It was so easy, so instinctive, that he hardly ever noticed
anymore.
Above all, there was the very real possibility of seeing the little black dot
bearing Sirius' name. It was one thing to see it in a dream, and he could lie
and spout excuses until he died, but the reality had the potential to break him
utterly.
He was a terrible coward, and his only saving grace was that he had the courage
to admit that much.
He'd tried to hate Sirius, and for a while, after he lost James and Lily and
Peter, he'd managed rather nicely. He'd been almost disappointed that Sirius
had been whisked off to Azkaban so quickly; he'd wanted nothing more than to
spit in his face. In the heat of his loathing, the lack of a trial due to all
of the evidence had been a good thing as far as he was concerned. But then the
heat of anger turned to despair in the face of everything he'd lost, and he'd
lost everything that had ever mattered to him. In his weaker moments, he
formulated excuses—Imperius or some other magical means of coercion, blackmail,
mistaken identity.
His heart would never be able to fully believe that Sirius could betray James
of all people. If a wizard's essence, his soul, were a visible construct,
surely the threads that made up the core of both James and Sirius had somehow
joined and twined. They were one being in two bodies.
And then he'd remember the photos of his arrest, Sirius laughing, haughtier
than ever, and another part of him would die inside. His only solace in James'
death was that James never had to live with the betrayal of his other self. No,
Remus was the one to bear that burden alone, and the weight of it bowed him
down, made him less than a man, a coward.
The cruelest burden, however, had been the knowledge that despite everything,
he still loved Sirius. Sirius was a part of him, at times, one of the very best
parts, and would remain so until he died. That was his deepest secret, the one
that filled him with the most shame, the one that enabled and encouraged his
cowardice.
Harry was so young. There was no possible way for him to understand the
consequences, the unspeakable price of a Dementor's Kiss: the soul devoured
with no hope of redemption. Sirius' fate. No matter what horrendous acts he had
committed in life, Sirius, that brilliant and once-beautiful star, one of the
cornerstones of Remus' youth, did not deserve eternal damnation.
He removed his wand from his pocket with a shaking hand, twirled it aimlessly
between his fingers, still unwilling to touch it to the parchment. A knock on
his office door startled him from his reverie, and he quickly shoved the map in
his drawer before answering.
"Come in," he called, his voice still thick with grief and the pain of memory.
The door opened, and Roger Davies poked his head inside, tentative.
"I—I'm sorry, Professor," he said, his voice scratchy. "I can come back later
if you're busy."
Remus sat up straight, forced a smile and beckoned. "No, that's fine. I could
use the distraction, to be honest. How can I help you, Mr Davies?" The map
could wait, and he supposed it might be for the best if it did.
**
Teddy strode into the room, trying to affect an air of confidence. His stomach
felt a bit queasy, but he ignored it, taking a seat in one of the chairs before
the desk. This was the hard part. It was one thing to imitate a person's
appearance, but it was quite another to mimic a voice. The alterations he made
were external in nature, not internal, and while he could change the size of
his larynx, unlike Polyjuice, he could never make it exact. His solution was to
feign illness with a well-timed sore throat.
"It's—" He made a show of trying to clear his throat. "Sorry, it's to do with
that essay you set us. I have some questions."
"Nasty bug you've got. You should go see Madame Pomfrey when we're finished,"
Remus said, steepling his fingers on the desk. "For now, ask away."
"Thank you, sir. Er, well, I was thinking about writing my essay on the dangers
to wizarding and Muggle society that certain creatures pose, and I was doing
some research on werewolves in particular." Teddy fiddled with the collar of
his robe. Why had he said werewolves? He'd been practicing a speech on
Dementors and Lethifolds! Idiot!
Teddy looked up at his father, but Remus' face was perfectly composed, no
noticeable tension anywhere in his expression or in his body language.
"And you needed to see me because…?"
"Oh, right, sorry, sir." Teddy blinked. What the hell was he going to say now?
"I, er, well most books about them seem to take a, well, a hostile stance. How
to spot them, how to kill them, stuff like that, but they all ignore something
I read in another book that I thought was pretty important."
Remus raised his eyebrows and inclined his head. "Which is?"
"Well, a werewolf is only technically a werewolf one day a month, and not even
the whole day, just when the moon's out."
"There are many who would disagree with that presumption, Mr Davies. The
Ministry included."
"Well, that's just stupid, isn't it?"
Remus shrugged. "I don't know. Or, to be more precise, you'd have to define
stupid, and apply it to the Ministry's motives and actions. Werewolves are in
fact dangerous, Mr Davies, and I assure you that you would not want to stumble
across one during a full moon." He absently tapped the tips of his fingers
together.
"Well, yes, I know that. But what about the other days of the month? Fantastic
Beasts is, at best, fairly neutral, though not very informative, but I came
across one called 'Hairy Snout, Human Heart', which seems to contradict the
other books, and even goes so far as to criticise the Ministry."
Teddy was watching Remus carefully, and he saw the twitch of lip, the
hesitation of his fingers, when he mentioned 'Hairy Snout', gestures so minute,
he'd have missed them completely if he hadn't been looking. He'd first read
that book when he was six, and by the time he was sixteen, knew it almost by
heart. After Harry had told him the story of how Sirius Black and James Potter
had become Animagi for his father, he was convinced that not only was the book
about his father, but that James and Sirius had written it.
Remus leaned back in his chair. "Ah, yes, the sympathetic werewolf. It's a
moving story, I'll grant you, but is it true? Or, for purposes of research, is
it fact?"
Ninety minutes later, Teddy left his father's office with mixed feelings. It
had been harder than he'd thought to keep up the charade, and there were
several times where he'd nearly blurted out the truth. For the entirety of
their discussion, which had actually become heated at several points on his
part, his father had remained neutral and had drawn the conversation in such a
way that Teddy was forced to argue from both sides. Teddy marvelled at the
strength and courage it must have taken to do so, to sit there so calmly and
rationally.
There was one exception, when Teddy had brought up the topic of werewolves
having children. For the first time in their conversation, his father had
looked troubled, and while he didn't come out and say it, it was evident that
he was opposed to it. Obviously he had changed his mind in the intervening
years, but it was still disconcerting.
Perhaps he had been an accident, but his parents had been married before he was
conceived, hadn't they? And Harry had told him many times that his father loved
his mother. It was a subject he didn't really want to think about, so he turned
his thoughts to what would happen when the real Roger Davies turned in his
essay after the Easter holidays on a completely different topic. It didn't
matter, he'd be gone before then. His reason for coming was to meet his father,
and he'd finally done that, though he wished it could have been under different
circumstances. Staying here much longer was dangerous, and he knew he had to go
home soon.
Lost in thought, he turned the corner and slammed into someone. The collision
made him lose his balance, and he fell flat on his arse.
***** Chapter 4: reasons for defying reason *****
Chapter 4: reasons for defying reason
"Merlin's balls, Davies, don't you look where you're going?"
Cedric Diggory was rising to his feet slowly, brushing off his robes. He looked
down at Teddy, who hadn't moved at all, huffed in exasperation and reached out
a hand to help him up.
Teddy stared at Cedric's hand for a long moment before clasping it, and got to
his feet. He ignored his aching backside. The only thought in his mind was that
he was touching Cedric, and he was indeed real, flesh and blood and bone, and
warm, very warm. His own hands were cold.
Cedric cleared his throat, and he realised he was standing there, still holding
Cedric's hand. He dropped it almost too quickly and started to stutter an
apology, but Cedric gave him a long look.
"Oh. Like that, eh? Well, come on then," he said, leading toward a narrow
stair. "But away from here. Besides, Prefects can be a little late for curfew."
Teddy followed, puzzled but intrigued. He had no idea where Cedric was leading
him, but it didn't matter. They went up three flights of stairs, walked
silently down two corridors, ducked behind a tapestry, descended another narrow
stair, and ended up in an old, dusty, dimly lit corridor on the opposite side
of the school from where they had begun.
"Are we up to no good?" Teddy asked, grinning.
Cedric snorted. "Funny, Davies. Don't know about you, but I'm always good.
What's wrong with your voice?"
"Oh, sorry. Dunno, just went hoarse. I don't feel sick or anything. So what's
with all the subterfuge?"
"You’re asking me?" Cedric replied. "You're the one with the paranoia issues."
"I am? Oh," Teddy amended quickly as Cedric rolled his eyes. "Guess I am." Play
along, he told himself. Follow Cedric's lead. Stop asking stupid questions. And
for Merlin's sake, stop staring.
Cedric stopped before a door, glanced around to confirm they were alone, and
then opened it. "After you."
Teddy nodded and stepped into the room, which turned out to be another broom
cupboard. Apparently Cedric had a secret fascination with broom cupboards. His
thoughts went no further as the door closed, plunging them into darkness, and
then Cedric was on him, pressing him up against the stone wall. Without so much
as a by-your-leave, he rucked up the front of Teddy's robes and thrust his hand
inside his pants.
Cedric snorted. "Bloody hell, Davies. Little Rogie's not even the slightest bit
happy to see me? You always were a lazy sod."
Teddy stood paralysed, his jaw gaping in surprise, and he had no idea what to
do or say. Cedric had wrapped his fingers around his flaccid cock, jerking it
roughly, and within a few seconds, it wasn't quite so flaccid anymore.
"Ah, that's better." Cedric pushed the elastic of Teddy's underpants down
around his knees, and gentled his hand a bit, not as rough but still stroking
firmly. Teddy remained still, not speaking, though an occasional gasp made it
past his lips. He couldn't help it — Cedric's hand felt brilliant.
"Docile tonight, aren’t you?"
Not knowing what to say, he said nothing. He wasn't even sure what he was
expected to do. Well, he knew that. He and Simon had, a few times…well, they'd
been bored — curious the first time, drunk the others — and it hadn't meant
anything, just friends fucking around for a bit of a laugh. But Cedric wasn't
Simon, and he wasn't Roger. He'd seen Roger Davies and Cedric together a few
times — in person and on the map — but hadn't thought much of it. Now he
realised, well, it was glaringly obvious that they were…together. A twinge of
envy shot through his limbs and pooled in his stomach.
Cedric sighed, clearly exasperated, stilling his hand but not releasing Teddy's
cock from his grasp. Teddy could feel his breath on his face. "What's with you
tonight? Do you need a bloody invitation?"
Teddy bit his lip. Should he continue the charade? Run away? Confess? He had
only a few seconds to make a decision. He reached for Cedric, blindly grasping,
pulled him close and crushed their lips together.
Cedric stiffened but opened his mouth, and Teddy gently slipped his tongue
inside, hoping he was doing it right. He knew well enough how to snog, but
everyone had a different technique, Simon being an excellent example of that,
and he had no idea how Roger did it. On top of that, he'd never snogged a bloke
before. Well, not sober.
It was at least a minute before he realized that Cedric wasn't kissing him
back. He started to pull away, but then Cedric grabbed him by the front of his
robes, pushed him roughly against the wall, and plunged his tongue into Teddy's
mouth.
It was wet and messy and Cedric was anything but gentle, but it still felt
good, different. He reached his arms around Cedric's hips and pulled him
closer, hands resting gently against Cedric's arse.
Apparently that was the wrong thing to do because a moment later, Cedric had
put his hands on Teddy's chest and pushed himself away, spluttering.
"What—what the fuck are we doing?"
Bugger. "Um, I…was I doing it wrong?" he asked, panicking and getting ready to
bolt for the door.
Cedric said nothing, but Teddy could hear him breathing heavily.
"Cedric?" he asked tentatively.
"What did you just say?"
"I asked if I did it wrong. I'm, er, well, I'm not really feeling myself
tonight, so maybe I should—"
"You called me by my first name, you kissed me, and you touched my arse. I'd
say so."
"Oh." Shit, he'd really fucked up.
"Listen, Davies. Um, Roger. I didn't think…. Look, you're an okay bloke and
all…well, sometimes. Fine, you're a bloody huge tosser, but the wanking was
fun. You're such a bastard at times that, well, I really didn't think you'd
ever want to snog. You get tetchy when I accidentally breathe too close to your
ear."
Teddy felt sick. He'd misread the situation completely. What was he thinking
impersonating an actual student? He had no idea who this Roger Davies really
was. He could have chosen any student to impersonate, what had made him choose
Davies?
Because he was a friend of Cedric's, a nasty little voice whispered inside his
head. He was about to argue with himself when he realised it had been the
truth.
He'd wanted an opportunity to meet up with Cedric, to talk to him, maybe even
be alone with him, though he didn't think he'd had this kind of activity in
mind. Davies seemed the safest choice since they were in different houses. He
chose to follow Cedric to this place. It had been his choice to kiss him, never
mind that Cedric had been jerking him off at the time — he hadn’t protested,
hadn't stopped him. He'd liked it.
"Okay, now I know something's wrong. I just called you a tosser and a bastard
and you haven't said a word back."
"I'm sorry," Teddy whispered. "I should go." He took a step towards the door,
but Cedric grabbed hold of his sleeve and tugged.
"Wait."
Teddy's underpants had fallen around his ankles, but he hadn't noticed, his
mind occupied with other things, and he was jerked off balance when Cedric
pulled him back. He stumbled in the dark, tripping over his pants, and reached
out a hand to steady himself. He grabbed onto Cedric, but Cedric wasn't
expecting it, and the two of them fell, crashing to the floor with a loud thud.
"Ow, fuck that hurt," Cedric groaned above him.
Teddy was gasping for breath. He'd fallen on his arse and was afraid he'd
bruised his tailbone. His left elbow throbbed where he had knocked it on the
floor, and his head hurt where it had cracked against the stone. "Shit. Sorry.
Didn't mean," he panted.
Cedric rolled off him. "At least you're softer than the floor. I heard
something crack. What'd you hit?"
He was breathing a little easier now. "Fuck. My head. My elbow. And if it's
possible to break your arse, I think I've succeeded."
Cedric chuckled. "Hey, what happened to your voice?" he asked.
"What?" Teddy felt dizzy and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply.
"Never mind. Give me a second."
He felt Cedric moving beside him and heard a rustle of material.
"Lumos. Are you—what the fuck? Who the hell are you?"
Teddy opened his eyes and squinted in the sudden brightness. "What?"
"You're not Roger Davies," Cedric said, narrowing his eyes. "Who are you? You
looked like him when we came in here. What are you playing at?"
Oh, shit! When had he reverted to his own appearance? He must have done it
unconsciously. He didn't think he'd done it on purpose. Then again, perhaps he
had.
"I'm sorry. I'm not. Playing. Well, okay, I suppose I was. I didn't mean to
hurt you though."
"What's your name?"
He hesitated. "Teddy."
"Teddy what?"
"I—I can't tell you. I'm sorry."
"Why not? Afraid I'll tell the school about your forays in arse banditry?"
"Huh? No. I know you wouldn't. I trust you. I, just…it's complicated."
Cedric seemed to take that at face value for the moment. "So, Teddy-whose-last-
name-is-complicated, how did you know. About me and Davies?"
"I didn't."
Cedric's eyebrows shot up. "So you were just hoping I'd be kind enough to give
you a toss?"
"No! I mean…crap. My head is killing me."
"You cracked it pretty hard," he agreed, sitting back on his heels. "You don't
look familiar. What house are you in?"
"Please don't ask me that."
"Your house is too personal a question, too?"
"Yes. No. I mean… Look, Cedric, I don't want to lie to you."
"You think Polyjuicing yourself to look like Davies isn't lying?"
"It's not Polyjuice."
"Oh, really? Well the way I see it, there are only two ways you could have
impersonated him. One is Polyjuice, and the other is if you were a Met—"
"—Metamorphmagus, yes. Can you give me a hand? I need to sit up." His arse was
sore, but the pain was receding. His elbow still hurt, but not as badly as his
head. He drew up his legs, leaned over and put his head between his knees, and
concentrated on his breathing.
"So you're a Metamorphmagus," Cedric said, sceptical.
"Yes."
"Like Dora Tonks is."
"You knew my m—" Teddy raised his head sharply and groaned, a wave of nausea
sweeping over him. "Aaah, crap." He grabbed his head and pressed his forehead
against his knees.
"Look, whoever you are, you're not well. I should get you to the hospital
wing."
"I can't," Teddy said. "Please. I just need a few minutes." He felt Cedric's
fingers gently probing the back of his head. "Aah," he exclaimed as Cedric
found a tender spot.
"No blood. That's good, I suppose. Hang on."
His fingers were gone and Teddy heard him muttering. There was a sound like
water pouring, and then Cedric was thrusting something into his hand.
"Here. Drink it slowly."
Teddy tried to smile, though he was sure it was closer to a grimace. "Thank
you," he whispered, sipping gratefully.
"Are you really a Metamorphmagus?"
He was about to nod, then thought better of it. "Yes. I really am." As an
afterthought, he turned his hair bright blue.
Cedric grinned. "That's pretty cool."
"It has its advantages," Teddy said and smiled, the blue fading back into
brown. He sipped at the water and regarded Cedric. "I am sorry I lied to you.
By pretending to be Roger."
Cedric shrugged. "No harm done, really. Besides, you seem decent enough. Not a
conceited bastard at any rate."
"If you don't like him — Davies, I mean — then why…?"
"Why the messing about? Dunno. Well, it started because of a bet. Quidditch. I
lost," Cedric said, looking a bit sheepish. "I'm usually a pretty fair sport,
but losing to him just…"
"I know exactly what you mean. In fact— Damn!" Teddy realised that he had
missed the Slytherin match. He'd been so caught up in everything happening
here, he'd completely forgot about Quidditch. Some captain he was. They'd been
in the running for the Cup this year, too. Crap.
"What's wrong?"
Teddy sighed. "Nothing. I just remembered. Quidditch. I missed a match, no big
deal."
"You play?"
"Yeah"
"Here?"
Teddy hesitated. "For my school," he said carefully. He could see Cedric wanted
to ask him which school, but instead he asked:
"What position?"
"Seeker. I'm captain."
"Yeah?" Cedric said, grinning. "Me, too. Seeker. And captain."
"I know," Teddy said.
Cedric looked at him and narrowed his eyes. "You seem to know an awful lot
about me. How old are you?"
"Seventeen," Teddy replied. "Eighteen soon." He took another sip of water.
"And you don't go to Hogwarts."
Teddy choked, and Cedric helpfully pounded him on the back.
"I see."
"Please," Teddy rasped, wiping his chin. "It's not that I don't want to tell
you, I can't."
"It's complicated," Cedric said.
"You've no idea."
They sat in a strangely companionable silence, though Teddy's mind was racing.
It was even harder than he'd imagined. He wanted to tell him everything, but
his head still hurt and it was impeding his ability to think straight. He
needed a headache potion and some sleep, but he couldn't go to the infirmary
for the former, and he couldn't show Cedric the Room of Requirement.
As if he could hear his thoughts, Cedric asked, "Where are you sleeping then? I
mean, if you're not in a house, and you're not a teacher. Are you staying in
the castle?"
Teddy sighed. "I have a place to sleep. But nobody other than you knows I'm
here. Cedric," Teddy said, pleading, "please don't tell anyone about me. It's
really important."
Cedric raised his eyebrows. "Professor Dumbledore doesn't know you're here?"
Teddy's eyes widened. "Merlin, no! I hope not."
"So, you're hiding in our school and I'm the only one who knows you're here.
There's an escaped convict on the loose, allegedly trying to kill Harry Potter,
there are Dementors guarding the school against intrusion, and I'm supposed to
trust that you're not here for some…some nefarious purpose? How do I know
you're not Sirius Black yourself? Or someone who's trying to help him?"
Teddy sighed. "I'm not Sirius Black."
"Can you prove that?"
"Yes. But I'd rather not."
"Look, Teddy, if that's your real name—"
"It is."
"Fine, I'll believe you on that front. Why should I trust you? Just because you
seem like a nice bloke? I don't know who you are, you won't answer my
questions, and when you do, you say some things that sound a bit dodgy. Can you
give me one good reason why I shouldn't haul you off to the Headmaster's
office?"
"I can give you several, but you won't believe me."
Cedric grunted. "Okay, then let me put it this way. If you were me, what would
you do?"
"Probably the same as you," Teddy admitted and sighed. He had to make a choice:
continue his current evasiveness, or take Cedric into his confidence and hope
he could trust him. He wondered, idly, how many impossible things Cedric was
willing to believe before breakfast.
He swirled the water around in his cup. "What if I said that I was from the
future?"
"I'd say you were off your rocker."
"I was afraid of that."
"You're not serious," Cedric spluttered. "Have you got a time-turner hidden
under your robes?"
"They wouldn't go this far back. Besides, there are no more time-turners, or so
the Ministry claims. They were all smashed in an accident in the Department of
Mysteries years— Oh," he said. "I guess that hasn't happened yet."
"I'm supposed to believe that," Cedric said sceptically.
Teddy shrugged.
"You could make up stories all night, but there's no way to prove any of them."
"You said you knew Nymphadora Tonks," Teddy said.
"She left school after my second year," Cedric said, eyes narrowing. "Are you
going to tell me she's your mother? Lots of people know she's a Metamorphmagus.
That still doesn't prove anything."
"True." Teddy sighed and reached for his pocket. "Oh, stop that, I'm not going
for my wand," he said when Cedric started and pointed his wand threateningly,
and slowly pulled the Marauder's Map from his pocket. He did have proof, in his
bag back in the Room. He'd have to take Cedric, otherwise they would be here
all night and then some.
"What's that?" Cedric asked, pointing at the map.
"A family heirloom," he replied. "Listen, Cedric. We…well, we know each other
where—when—I come from. I know you well enough to know you can keep a secret.
What I need to know is whether you will."
"I can't promise you that until I know more. You haven't been very convincing."
"I don't exactly carry around identification, and I wouldn't, even if I had
any. It would only get me into more trouble. This," he said, pointing to the
map, "it isn't exactly proof either, but I can take you to it, if you're
willing to trust me that far."
"As long as you keep your wand in your pocket, I'll come along."
"I need my wand to activate this," Teddy said, shaking the map.
"Nuh uh."
Teddy huffed. "Fine, you'll have to do it."
"That depends on what it is."
"You're not going to make this easy, are you?" When Cedric didn't reply, he
sighed loudly and held out the map. "You have to touch your wand to the
parchment and say, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.'"
Cedric tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "If this thing explodes, it'll
take you with me."
"Just do it."
Cedric repeated the password, and when Teddy nodded, he touched his wand to the
parchment and spoke it again. Immediately, the lines of the map began to sprout
and expand like a rolling wave. Cedric stared at the parchment in awe and
grinned, delighted. "It's a map!"
He looked so eager that Teddy grinned despite himself and relinquished the map.
Cedric unfolded it and spread it out on the floor before them. "I need more
light." He looked over his shoulder and pointed his wand at a spot on the wall.
A torch flared to life, casting a warm glow in the small room.
Teddy winced at the brightness; his head was still paining him, though the
initial nausea had thankfully receded.
"This is amazing," Cedric said. "Where did you get it?"
"My godfather gave it to me two, er, when I was fifteen."
Cedric couldn't tear his eyes from the map. "Does this mean you went to school
here, too?"
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus," Teddy whispered softly.
Cedric glanced up sharply. "Which house?"
"Same as you," Teddy said.
"You know Professor Sprout then."
"Yes, but she retired a year before I started."
"Then how do you know her?"
"My godfather used to take me here to visit, when I was little. I remember
Professor Sprout showed me the Whomping Willow," he said, shrugging. "I've
always had a fascination with that tree. Professor Longbottom took over
teaching Herbology after she left, but don't tell him that. He's only a third
year right now."
"I don't know him to tell." Cedric looked back down at the map. "It shows all
the people. This is incredible. Even the ghosts! Look, there's Peeves," he
said, pointing at the Trophy Room, thankfully a long way away from where they
were presently.
"And here's us," Cedric said. "Teddy Lupin. That your real name?"
"The Marauder's Map never lies."
Cedric cocked his eyebrow. "Related to Professor Lupin?"
"He's my father," Teddy said softly. "That's where I was, before I ran into
you. It's why I was pretending to be Roger. I wanted to see him, in person, and
I couldn't very well go as myself. Next time you see Roger, you might want to
suggest he do his dark creature essay on werewolves, because that's what we
were discussing," he added lightly.
Cedric was watching him warily. "If I see him. Though I don't think it'll be as
frequently as before. He really is a prick."
"I don't know him, so I couldn't say. He does seem to bring out the worst in
you."
"Oh? How's that."
"When you thought I was him, your language, hell, your entire demeanour was
pretty hostile."
"How do you know I'm not like that all the time?" Cedric asked.
Teddy rolled his eyes. "Ow. Shit." He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.
"And you're talking to me about my language?" Cedric teased. "But yeah. You're
right. Lucky guess."
Teddy opened his eyes. "Not luck so much. I told you — I know you."
Cedric turned his attention back to the map. "So where are we going?"
"Here," Teddy pointed, "though it's not on the map. The Room of Requirement."
"Never heard of it."
"I think you'll like it. It's a pretty special place. Very handy in times of
need." He glanced briefly at the map to make sure the way was clear, and tried
to stand.
"You might want to fix those first," Cedric said, pointing at Teddy's pants,
still wrapped around one ankle.
Teddy blushed. "Prat," he said, and reached down, removing his pants and
stuffing them into his pocket. When he got to his feet, a wave of dizziness
made him stumble, and he dropped the empty cup. Cedric grabbed him and steadied
him as he swayed.
"Easy," Cedric said, putting his arm around Teddy's shoulder.
"Thank you," Teddy replied, leaning gratefully against Cedric and taking long,
deep breaths. He knew that Cedric was starting to believe him, although he
hadn't quite said so. He might not even have to show him his Advanced
Transfiguration textbook, published in 2014.
"Can you walk?" Cedric asked.
"I'll manage," Teddy said. "But you'd better hold the map."
Cedric grinned, and as they left the cupboard, he extinguished the torch,
whispered Nox at his wand, and slipped it back into his pocket.
Teddy smiled at the gesture of trust. His head still ached, and he was a bit
stiff walking — he'd be sleeping on his belly for the next few nights for sure
— but the sense of relief he felt at that moment made up for everything.
"C'mon," Cedric said, tugging at Teddy's sleeve, his eagerness palpable as he
held the map in front of him, leading the way to the seventh floor corridor.
Teddy grinned wider and followed.
***** Chapter 5: strange how we know each other *****
Chapter 5: strange how we know each other
"You're supposed to be revising for Defence."
"You said I get an 'O' on my O.W.L.," Cedric said, continuing his exploration
of Teddy's neck.
"You're impossible."
"I like to think of it as challenging."
"I can think of a few other names for—oooh!" Teddy sucked in his breath and
arched his back.
"Oh, so you like that."
"Uh-huh," Teddy said, dropping all pretence of helping Cedric revise and
lowering his chin, allowing better access to the lips and tongue that were
sucking on the back of his neck.
"This is so strange," Cedric said before sucking hard on a particularly
sensitive area.
Teddy gasped. "My neck is strange?"
"No, idiot," Cedric said against his skin. He pushed Teddy's head forward even
further and licked close to his nape. "This. Doing all this with a bloke."
"I can morph some tits if it'll make you feel better."
"You can't, can you?" Cedric asked and his expression was slightly horrified.
"Big tits and a cock. Merlin, now that would be strange."
"I'll do it for you sometime, get you really pissed first though, 'cause that
would be a laugh, but anyway, I thought, you know, Davies…"
"I told you we hadn't. Wanking's one thing, isn't it? It's just, you know,
getting off. This is different. Us. All the snogging and licking and stuff.
Nice though." He moved to the side along Teddy's shoulder, biting and sucking,
and Teddy groaned in appreciation.
It was strange. And definitely nice. It was the middle of Easter holidays, so
Cedric didn't have classes, and the two of them had been spending a lot of time
in the Room. They'd experimented with its abilities and had managed to turn it
into an indoor Quidditch pitch three days ago. The Room had even provided
brooms, and though they were nothing like Teddy's Firebolt X-treme back home,
it was more than enough to be flying again.
The two of them had whooped and raced around, acting like a couple of first
years. As they were both Seekers, of course it became a competition over who
was the better player. Cedric had an advantage, used to the slower brooms of
the time, but overall they were pretty evenly matched.
Afterwards, Teddy would change the Room back to the familiar bedroom he'd come
to think of as his own, and the two of them would flop down on his bed,
exhausted and exhilarated, laughing and joking and enjoying each others'
company. Cedric, who spent so much time nicking food from the kitchen, had
become friendly with a couple of the house-elves, and they were more than happy
to bring food up to them in the 'Come and Go Room', saving them numerous trips
across the whole of the castle.
Cedric did have O.W.L.s looming, and Teddy hoped to take his N.E.W.T.s when he
returned home, whenever that might be, as he found new reason every day to
delay. So when they were finished playing, they revised.
It had all been fairly innocent until yesterday. They were sprawled across the
bed on their stomachs, legs dangling over the side, textbooks open in front of
them, when Cedric had turned to him and kissed him. Teddy had hesitated at
first. They'd kissed that one time, but he'd been impersonating Roger—badly—and
it had been more out of panic than any kind of desire. It was also different
from that time with Simon back in fifth year. They'd been completely pissed for
one thing, and for another, Teddy wasn't attracted to Simon. It had been a
lark, something they'd laughed over and the incident was never repeated. They'd
had a wank or two together, but again, that had been different as well.
But he was attracted to Cedric, and that had confused him. He'd never really
thought about it one way or the other. When he dated, it was girls. He noticed
when certain blokes were fit and whatnot, but it had never really registered as
anything more than that. Cedric was different, and it wasn't just that he was
fit. He realised that he'd probably had a bit of a crush on portrait-Cedric
back home before he ever met the real article, and this Cedric was almost
larger than life to him. His personality drew Teddy like a magnet.
Cedric had noticed his hesitation and pulled back, apologising. Teddy had seen
the brief flash of disappointment on his face and before he realised what he
was doing, he'd rolled over on top of Cedric, their books falling forgotten to
the floor, and snogged him as if his body had known exactly what it wanted and
taken it before his mind could catch up.
And here they were this afternoon, Teddy shirtless and trying to quiz Cedric on
hexes and counter-hexes, and Cedric behind him exploring every inch of his neck
and shoulders with his mouth. It was strange and nice, and his cock straining
against the fly of his jeans was a testament to how bloody marvellous it felt.
He leaned back against Cedric's chest, turning his head and nudging closer. He
sucked Cedric's lower lip into his mouth and ran his tongue along it, nibbling
gently then slid his tongue between Cedric's lips.
A part of him thought that snogging a bloke should be rougher, frantic, a
testosterone-induced struggle for some illusion of dominance and a race to
climax, but Teddy had always liked slow kissing; that sensual drag of tongue,
soft lips, and gentle fingertips stroking across his cheek, through his hair,
down the back of his neck. The pleasure lasted longer, and after a while, they
were so aroused they ended up tearing at each other frantically anyway.
Cedric pulled away and crawled around him, pulling Teddy up onto his knees.
They faced each other across a breath of space, skin flushed with heat and
hungry for touch. Teddy's pulse was racing as he drew closer, leaning forward
just a fraction of an inch more, warmed by the mere presence of this boy he'd
yearned to know, never thinking he'd know him so well as this.
Cedric cocked his eyebrows and reached out, fingers light as a feather through
the denim of Teddy's jeans, playing over his balls while the heel of his hand
cupped and pressed, sliding along his cock. He groaned, a low, ragged sound and
thrust his hips forward into the touch.
"Off," he murmured against Cedric's lips, "take them off."
He lifted his own hands, fumbling for the zip on Cedric's jeans as Cedric
reached for his, fingers twisting to undo buttons, jerking denim and cotton
down over bony hips, and oh, he was so warm, skin like newly spun silk on the
underside, so smooth beneath his fingertips. He stroked lightly at first,
alternating his rhythm, slow and long, a gentle squeeze around the base, thumb
curled around the underside, pressing, stroking.
He slid his lips down over Cedric's jaw, tongue swiping along the underside,
down to the juncture between neck and shoulder, a hint of salt as he sucked on
the warm, sweet skin. The air was thick with their mingled scent, clean sweat
and sex, male and pungent, hands sliding, faster now, closer and closer,
Cedric's moans in his ear, his whispered entreaties of yes and more and don't
stop.
Oh, just like that, Teddy thought, so close. His breathing was ragged and he
buried his face against Cedric's shoulder, biting down hard as he felt the
spasms vibrating and pulsing beneath his fingers, bitten-off fingernails
digging into his shoulder as Cedric came.
Teddy thrust into Cedric's tight-fisted grip, the warm splash of Cedric's come
mingling with his own, and he cried out, eyes closed, as wave after wave
convulsed his body.
He wrapped his arms around Cedric's back and rested his head on his shoulder,
and Cedric did the same, the two of them supporting each other from collapse
until they felt free to move again.
Cedric carefully extricated himself and flopped down on top of the blankets. He
kicked off his jeans and pants, and lay naked grinning impudently up at Teddy.
Teddy tried to knee him in the thigh and lost his balance, tumbling on top of
Cedric with a whump.
"Daft bastard," Cedric wheezed from below. "You did that on purpose."
Teddy laughed and pushed himself off, lying down on his back beside Cedric and
kicking his own clothes off. He raised his feet in the air and regarded them
solemnly.
"We look really stupid just wearing socks."
Cedric rolled his eyes. "So take 'em off."
"Nah, then my feet'll get cold."
"You can put them back on."
"I'd have to find them first."
"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"
"Yup," Teddy said, and swung his right knee into Cedric's left. "So when's the
Cup final? Harry's playing and I want to watch."
"Week from next Saturday," Cedric said and yawned, turning onto his side to
face Teddy. "They're down by two hundred points; it's gonna be tough. Slytherin
cheats."
"Nah, they'll win," Teddy said confidently.
"Is that wishful thinking or more secret knowledge of the past?"
"Not telling. But if you've got a few extra galleons you can loan me…"
Cedric punched him in the arm.
**
"Last one in's an Erumpent's saggy bollock," Cedric cried, leaping and
canonballing into the multicoloured, bubbling foam.
"Classy," Teddy noted, hopping while trying to pull off his left sock.
"You coming in or what?" Cedric called, wiping suds from his eyes.
"Did we really need that much foam?" Teddy asked, standing on the edge and
peering down into the pool-sized bath. "That stuff tastes like arse."
"I'm not even going to ask you how you know enough to make the comparison."
Teddy growled and leaped, his legs scissoring as he hurtled toward Cedric.
Cedric ducked down under the foam right before Teddy hit with a huge splash.
They chased each other around the bath, dunking and roughhousing, until they
finally called a temporary truce. Leaning against opposite sides of the bath,
they gasped for breath, laughing, and ineffectually flicked suds at each other.
"Prat," Cedric called.
"So I am," Teddy agreed. He swam closer, ducked underwater and swam the rest of
the way, surfacing mere inches from Cedric and spitting a stream of water in
his face.
"Gah!" Cedric cried, jumping on Teddy's shoulders and dunking him under the
water. Teddy reached out and grabbed Cedric's legs, yanking him under with him.
"I win," Teddy said as they came up for air and grinned, wiping water from his
eyes and pushing his wet hair off his forehead.
Cedric shook his head, doglike, stuck out his tongue and took a step forward.
"You play dirty."
"Mmm, is there any other way—Oi!" Teddy jumped and fell backward with a splash.
He surfaced, spluttering, to find Cedric laughing and pointing at him. "I play
dirty?"
Cedric ducked his head, holding his hands palms-up just above the water, then
made a squeezing gesture with one, flexing his fingers, a shameless grin on his
face.
"I don't know how anyone ever thought you were fair-minded and kind," Teddy
said, trying to affect an air of petulance.
"Is that what they say about me in the future? Maybe I grow into it," he
teased, this time holding his hands up in surrender and walking slowly towards
Teddy. "Come here."
Teddy took a step back. "So you can grab my bollocks again?"
"Among other things," Cedric said mildly, but his eyes were full of mischief.
"Feeling a bit randy, are we?" Teddy stepped closer.
"Unless you've been busy casting Engorgement Charms—though I've long suspected
you use your… 'talents'… inappropriately anyway—I wouldn't go calling the
kettle black."
"I don't have to cheat, you're just jealous," Teddy said.
"Desperately," Cedric said, closing the last of the distance, cutting off any
reply by the swift expediency of covering Teddy's mouth with his own.
It was good, always good, kissing Cedric. It was a competition of a different
kind, one that required no rivalry, only participation. He welcomed the
intrusion of Cedric's tongue firmly swiping across his own, the slow burn of
excitement it induced, every nerve in his body responding to that little twist
here, that long lick across his palate there.
When he was finished feigning passive resistance, he would chase Cedric's
tongue back across the border of their lips in an attack of his own, the echoes
of their battle tingling across the surface of his skin, underneath where the
blood thrummed in his veins. He never tired of this endless game between them,
and even when it followed the same patterns, it was always new, always
thrilling.
Teddy drew his arms around Cedric's hips, hands cupping his arse, pulling them
close. The heaviness of the water made their thrusting sluggish, leisurely,
more teasing than earnest fucking, but the slow drag of cock against cock was
still electric.
Cedric drew his legs up and wrapped them around Teddy's waist, changing the
angle so that he felt the brush of Cedric's sac against the base of his cock.
Cedric's thrusts were short and quick, and Teddy held him up, their lips never
breaking contact as he walked them both toward the edge of the shallowest end
of the bath until Cedric's shoulders were against the tiles.
Cedric broke their kiss, and leaned his head back along the edge of the bath,
clenching his thighs as Teddy fucked him up against the tiles, the resistance
of the water no longer a hindrance. Teddy slid his hands sideways; thumbs
curving around the side of Cedric's hips, palms flush on his arse, fingers
kneading, reaching toward the crease.
They watched each other, and Teddy loved to see the way Cedric reacted to every
hint of movement between them. The way his jaw moved, his lips forming sounds,
some of which escaped in long, lush moans, or sharp, quick breaths. Every
thrust, every touch drew a reaction.
Cedric inched his fingers between them, and Teddy circled his hips in a short
arc before thrusting, allowing Cedric the room to grasp both their cocks in his
hand. The water was rushing away from them in concentric waves, splashing up
against the wall and over the side, the surface of the entire bath echoing the
movement of their bodies.
"Come," Teddy said softly and slid one hand further around the curve of
Cedric's arse, fingers dipping inside the crease, one finger rubbing gently
around his entrance, teasing, a hint of penetration.
Cedric bucked his hips and cried out, a long, low sound that tapered off in a
hiss.
"Yes," Teddy murmured, "I want to watch you come."
Cedric clenched his thighs in a single pulse, and Teddy felt them spasm and go
slack against his hips. Cedric's thrusts were erratic, and he closed his eyes,
jaw going slack, his breathing a staggered, arrhythmic panting.
"Yes," Teddy whispered, driving his cock deeper into Cedric's fist, "yes, yes,
yessss…."
Cedric slowly unwrapped his legs, stretching them out and letting them float
near the surface of the water, holding onto the edge to keep him afloat. Teddy
gave Cedric's arse an ineffective slap under the water, then turned around
between Cedric's legs and leaned back against his chest and shoulder. Cedric
threw a casual arm around Teddy's middle while Teddy ran light fingers along
the underside of Cedric's thighs as they relaxed, the waves subsiding and
lapping softly against the tiles.
"I'd get out and lie down, but I'm too lazy to move right now," Cedric said
after a while.
"Lazy sod," Teddy agreed. "I can sympathise with that sentiment."
"Problem is, my wrist is awkward like this, and I don't think I can hold myself
up for much longer."
Teddy stood, turned, and lifted Cedric up onto the side of the bath.
"Well, that was decisive."
Teddy grinned. "C'mon, we'll lay out some towels and have a lie-down. We can
have another swim after, if we feel up to it."
They stretched out on their little nest of towels, Cedric on his back, Teddy on
his side facing him. Teddy let his gaze wander over Cedric's body. He was
beautiful to look at; broad shoulders, firm, lithe muscle beneath smooth, pale
skin, square jaw with a hint of stubble, straight nose and clear grey eyes. He
reached out his hand and gently toyed with the trail of hair below Cedric's
navel. Cedric lifted his right arm and rested his fingers on the back of
Teddy's hand.
Teddy smiled, lowered his head onto his makeshift pillow, and closed his eyes,
his fingers still rubbing.
In quiet moments like these, Teddy could almost forget he didn't belong here.
Cedric was beautiful, and he enjoyed looking, but it was his personality—his
easy, playful, friendly manner, his intelligence and wit—that Teddy found
himself most attracted to. He was genuinely nice, and there was a gentleness to
him, yet he was confident in his abilities, and completely unabashed,
particularly when it came to sex. Teddy thought of it as being comfortable in
his own skin, and he admired Cedric for it.
They had continued to spend time together even after the Easter holidays had
ended, finding themselves together more and more frequently, despite Cedric's
busy schedule. They spent their evenings in the Room, revising, flying or
playing other games, talking, and of course there was plenty of sex.
He put his plans to return to his own time on temporary hold, and every day the
notion of leaving was less and less appealing. He knew he had to go, but each
new day he'd tell himself, just one more day. Tomorrow, I'll leave tomorrow.
What's one more day?
One more day had become a week had become a month and a little more. It was now
early May, and he had been here for nearly three months.
It wasn't the sex that kept him here, no matter how good it was between them.
That would be far too shallow and selfish a reason for taking such a huge risk.
His reason was selfish, however. He stayed as much for himself as he did for
Cedric.
Cedric was ridiculously easy to talk to, to confide in, and he never asked
Teddy to tell him about the future. He didn't care about the future for its own
sake; his only interest in it seemed to be how it pertained to Teddy himself;
what his life was like, who he was, and he understood that there were many
things that Teddy wouldn't—couldn't talk about, and didn't hold it against him.
His own mortality wasn't ever an issue either. Like all teenagers, he expected
to live a long life and grow old and decrepit before he died.
Even when Teddy slipped a bit, telling him about being orphaned as an infant,
growing up with his Gran, how Harry was his godfather, he trusted Cedric, and
even if he hadn't been so confident in Cedric's discretion, he also knew that
it didn't matter. Cedric would die in a year, and there wasn't anything he
could do about it.
He missed his friends and his family, but they would still be there when he
returned home. His father and Cedric, however, would not.
He opened his eyes. Cedric was dozing, his hand still covering Teddy's. His
hair was damp, and there were still beads of water on his shoulder and neck,
glistening in the soft light from the torches. He sat up on his elbow and
inched closer, trying not to disturb their hands, lowered his head, and licked
Cedric's shoulder, his tongue lapping at the tiny drops.
Cedric stirred, but didn't open his eyes. Teddy gently extricated his hand and
shifted his body closer, bending once again, searching for more droplets,
licking at Cedric's collarbone as he worked his way toward the middle. Cedric
grinned, eyes still closed, and tilted his head, exposing more of his neck.
Teddy continued to move, tongue dipping into the hollow of Cedric's throat,
travelling up around the curve of his jaw and back down, sucking softly just
below his left ear, and moving back down again. He nibbled on Cedric's
collarbone as he passed it again, travelling lower still. Cedric wriggled with
pleasure as Teddy sucked a pert, pink nipple between his lips, tongue circling
the nub, his hands stroking Cedric's belly.
He could see Cedric's stomach quivering, dipping into concavity and back when
he sucked hard like that—yes—and stroked him around the side, down, around and
back up over hipbones which strained against his skin. He liked the way
Cedric's belly jumped, like a hiccough, so he pressed forward, tongue
abandoning nipple with a final dragging lick, and surging lower over ribs and
onto the plane of his stomach. The skin was soft here, almost delicate, nice
for licking, his tongue firm, leaving trails of saliva. He paused a moment and
blew a soft breath over Cedric's stomach
Cedric sucked in another breath and broke out in gooseflesh. Teddy continued
lower, tongue circling round his bellybutton, dipping inside the shallow
depression for a quick taste. Cedric whimpered when Teddy kept going, following
the trail of dark hair he'd been playing with earlier. Cedric's cock was
resting against his lower abdomen, fluid glistening at the tip as it bobbed
along in an opposing rhythm each time his stomach dipped.
Teddy licked his lips and turned his head to glance behind him. Cedric was on
his elbows watching with wide eyes. Teddy licked his lips again and Cedric
started, a hungry look in his eyes. Teddy turned back and inched closer. He
bent his head and slowly, delicately lapped at the head of Cedric's cock. He
tasted a hint of salt, and heard Cedric gasp behind him. Encouraged, he
continued his exploration, swiping his tongue down the length. The skin was
silky smooth and very warm. He mouthed his way back up, tongue drawing little
circles while his lips dragged along the shaft.
Cedric's cock twitched and bobbed again. He moved back to the head where more
fluid had collected and licked again, this time sucking the tip between his
lips. It felt nice on his tongue and he marvelled that it could be both hard
and soft at the same time. He slid his lips further down the shaft, sucking as
he went, cushioning the head on his tongue and rubbing it back and forth.
Teddy moaned, surprised, when he felt a hand on his arse, touching and
stroking, down through the cleft, over his hole, fingering his balls. He pushed
back into the touch, and continued with his own exploration, trying to take in
as much of Cedric's cock as he could. He bobbed his head, pulling back to suck
harder at the head, then enveloping it again, all the while his tongue flicking
everywhere it could reach, probing, tasting, swirling.
Cedric shifted beneath him, turning sideways. Startled, he pulled back and
tried to push Cedric's hips flat again.
"No," Cedric whispered from behind, pushing back. "Lie down on your side," he
said and tugged on Teddy's leg.
Finally understanding what Cedric was asking, he stretched out on his left
side, bent his top leg back and out of the way, and turned his attention back
to Cedric's cock, sucking it slowly into his mouth again. The angle was
different and he couldn't take it in as deeply as before, so he focused his
attentions on the head, hand gripping the base, while his heart beat in
anticipation.
And then Cedric's mouth was on him, and rational thought was no longer an
option. He was suckling instinctively, for the moment too caught up in the way
Cedric was lapping at him, taking him inside his warm, wet mouth—oh—he wanted
to thrust but managed to hold himself back, merely rocking into that gorgeous
suction.
Cedric was rocking his hips slowly, too, and he realised, ruefully, he was
being a bit neglectful. This mutual sucking was a lot harder than it looked.
He decided to try to mimic what Cedric was doing, which turned out to be a good
idea—he didn't have to think, he could just react and feel, and it felt bloody
marvellous.
The room was quiet except for the sounds of hungry suckling and low-pitched
humming, sounds which went straight to his cock, exciting him even more. His
jaw was a bit stiff, but it all felt so good, he couldn't bring himself to
care. He gripped Cedric's cock, rhythmically jerking the lower half in a
circular motion, sucking hard on the head in a counterpoint rhythm, and moaning
softly with his own pleasure as Cedric did the same. He had been trying to hold
back, trying to prolong everything, but he was drenched in sweat and ready to
pop.
He tried to pull back from Cedric's mouth, but Cedric sucked him harder. He
groaned loudly trying to warn him. Cedric's hand left his cock and he tried to
pull back again, but there were fingers at his entrance, stroking. He jerked
his hips violently when Cedric pressed one finger inside in short, shallow
thrusts, pulled his mouth from Cedric's cock and threw his head back, coming in
long, hard spasms.
He was lying on his back, breathing heavily. He lifted his hand to his chest
and felt something warm and slippery. Cedric had come, too, he realised. He
rubbed it between his fingers, uncaring about the mess and closed his eyes
**
He woke a short while later, and Cedric was sitting on the edge of the pool,
washing himself.
"Hey," Teddy called softly.
Cedric turned and smiled, and threw a sopping wet towel at him. He flinched and
raised his arm, and the towel smacked him in his stomach.
"Thanks," Teddy said. "Always so thoughtful."
Cedric came over and sat down next to him, picking up the towel and squeezing
water onto Teddy's chest, rubbing gently. "Better?"
"Much."
Cedric tossed the towel aside and stretched out beside him again.
"Knackered?" Teddy asked.
Cedric nodded. "In a good way."
"We should probably go soon, but I can't be arsed to get up at the moment."
"So stay. It's late, but it's not that late. Morning's still a good ways off,"
Cedric said.
"Mmmm," Teddy agreed and closed his eyes.
He lay with his eyes closed, listening to the sounds of Cedric's even
breathing. A shadow moved across his face and he opened his eyes to see Cedric
above him, grinning down at him. Something fluttered in his belly and he felt
warm.
He had to tell him. He couldn't let this boy, this young man, so bright, so
full of promise; he could not let him die. He made up his mind to tell him the
truth and damn the consequences. What was one peripheral life in the grand
scheme of things anyway? Tomorrow. I'll tell him tomorrow. But right now…
He reached for Cedric, pulling his head down to kiss him, his cock stirring yet
again, obviously not quite finished for the evening. He grinned against
Cedric's lips and gently swiped his tongue along the crease between—
—when the door to the bath slammed open and a dark, robed figure stood
glowering at them from across the pool, wand pointing threateningly at them. It
was too dim to see a face so Teddy scrambled up from the tile floor, changing
his face instinctively to the first one that came to mind, and pushed Cedric
back behind him. Their clothing, and their wands were on the other side of the
pool and Teddy's heart sank. They were in big trouble.
There was a flash of light and his limbs snapped together before he fell
backward. Cedric caught him, but whoever had hexed him was quicker. A voice
seemed to come from a very great distance.
"Leave him be, Mr Diggory, and stay where you are."
He flew through the air across the pool and came to rest on the floor, facing
up. He heard a whisper and his limbs went slack. He blinked several times, and
when he could focus again, his father was looming over him.
Teddy gasped when Remus pressed a knee into his belly, his eyes cold and
penetrating and he thrust the tip of his wand against the hollow of Teddy's
throat. Teddy swallowed painfully, his heart beating loudly, his head aching,
and tried to breathe.
"Who the hell are you?" Remus demanded.
***** Chapter 6: the deepest of needs *****
Chapter 6: the deepest of needs

Bloody hell. It was his father. His father was going to kill him. The irony of
the situation did not escape him, though at least Cedric hadn't threatened to
kill him at the time. "P—Professor," he rasped. "It's me, sir. R—Roger."
Remus' eyes narrowed. "Nice try. If you lie again, I'll Stun you and send for
the Dementors. You can answer to them."
"No, wait! Please," Teddy croaked. He licked his lips, but his tongue was like
sandpaper and offered no relief. "I—I can explain."
It was then that he saw what his father held clutched in his other hand. He
stared at the familiar parchment and swallowed over the lump in his throat. He
opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.
"Professor, sir, please, we—" Cedric took a step forward, but Remus pressed his
knee harder into Teddy while he pointed his wand across at Cedric, cutting off
his reply.
"Stay where you are Mr Diggory, if you please. I would think you're in enough
trouble already."
Teddy lay still, a wash of guilt sweeping over him. I'm sorry, Cedric. This is
all my fault. I stayed too long.
Remus flicked his wand back and jabbed Teddy in the chest. "I repeat, for the
last time. Who are you? I know you're an impostor, and I know the real Roger
Davies is, at this very moment, in his dormitory. Answer me!"
"The Marauder's Map never lies," Teddy whispered, so softly that Remus had to
lean closer to hear him.
The blood drained from his face, though he continued to press his wand tip
against Teddy's sternum. "What did you say?"
"The Marauder's Map never lies," he repeated, louder, though his voice was
still thin with fear and anxiety.
Remus rocked back as if he'd been slapped, though he kept a firm grip on his
wand. "How could you—? Nobody…" Remus leaned forward and gripped him hard by
the shoulders, the map crinkling against Teddy's skin. "What have you done to
Harry? Did Black send you?" His voice was angry as he shook Teddy hard.
Teddy reeled. This wasn't supposed to happen. How did his father get Harry's
map? His belly still writhed in fear, but also with a strange kind of hopeful
longing. He had run out of options five minutes ago, so he did the only thing
left to him. He inhaled a shaky breath, exhaled, and slowly relaxed his
features.
Remus recoiled as Teddy's hair grew and faded into a familiar light brown, his
jawbone thinned, cheekbones rearranging beneath fluid flesh, solidifying around
unchanging, golden brown eyes. Teddy heard Cedric exhale loudly from across the
room as he met his father's startled gaze.
"How—? Polyjuice," Remus rasped.
"No," Teddy answered, shaking his head. "Metamorphmagus."
Remus blinked. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, silent.
"You saw the map," Teddy said softly. "You saw my name. Sirius didn't send me,
Sirius doesn't even know me, and Harry doesn't know I exist yet, either. It was
an accident. I didn't know…"
He bit his lip. "The Marauder's Map never lies. You told Harry that, or you
will. Everything is so confusing. Anyway, you'll have to tell him now, because
he told me." He paused.
"Moony." The word sounded strange in his ears, no matter that he'd said it a
thousand times and more to himself. "You know who I am."
Remus' eyes widened, but he still wouldn't speak.
Teddy raised his head, turned to his side and pointed his chin at his robes on
the floor. "Right side pocket." When Remus didn't move, he added, "I'm flat on
my back and I'm unarmed. Please."
Remus nodded and stood, slowly stepping backwards. He transferred his wand to
his left hand, which still held his copy of the map, never taking his eyes from
Teddy. He leaned over and picked up the crumpled robe, fumbled in the pockets,
and drew out the map's doppelganger. He tore his gaze away to stare at the
blank parchment, clearly not believing what he was seeing.
"It's impossible," Remus breathed, staring at the two maps in his badly-shaking
hands.
Teddy sat up slowly and nodded absently. "Three months ago, I would have
agreed. But obviously it is. Possible."
Remus looked at Teddy and crumpled to the ground, his wand clattering to the
floor with a rustle of parchment, and covered his face with his hands. Teddy
cried out and scrambled over to him, throwing his arm around his father's
shoulder without a thought.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. I never meant, I mean, I never expected, and then I
was here, and you were here, and I had to lie, I couldn't be me, how could I be
me?" He was babbling, and Remus was trembling beneath him, and the reality of
the situation struck him like a blow.
"Oh my god. I'm naked. I'm bloody starkers! I'm sitting here with my father who
tried to kill me and I just had sex with my… my… boy—my… Merlin's balls on a
broomstick!" He ducked his head, blushing profusely, banged his forehead
against his father's shoulder and buried his face against his robes. "I want to
die right now," he mumbled into the fabric.
Remus' shaking intensified and a slow rumbling reverberated through Teddy's
cheek. He pulled away slowly, afraid his father was crying, and began patting
him awkwardly on the shoulder when Remus suddenly threw his head back and burst
into peals of laughter.
"You're laughing? You're laughing at me? I thought you were crying, you
sadistic bastard! It's not funny!"
Cedric was laughing now, too, hesitant at first, but when Teddy looked over at
him, he was wiping tears from his eyes and gasping for breath while trying to
keep his towel from slipping off his hips. Teddy glared at him. "Traitor.
'S'not funny."
Both Cedric and his father continued laughing, and he felt the corners of his
mouth lifting. "It isn't," he insisted, like a petulant child. Merlin, how
ridiculousamI? I'm sitting here with my cock flapping in the breeze! He burst
out laughing despite himself, and the other two howled even louder.
He wiped his nose and lifted his chin when he felt a touch on his arm. His
father was looking at him solemnly—though his lip kept twitching—offering Teddy
his robes as a peace gesture. "The Lupin family jewels are looking a bit…
chilly."
Teddy snatched his robes and threw them over his head, twisting them to find
the sleeves and neck. "Quit peeking," he said as he struggled.
"What was that?" his father asked. "I didn't quite catch that."
He poked his head through the neck of his robes about to retort, but his father
was looking at him with such a profound expression of joy that it left him
quite breathless. His father reached out a hand and gently traced a finger down
the side of Teddy's cheek.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"No, Dad." Teddy swallowed, blinking back tears. He cleared his throat. "I'm
the one who should be sorry."
"Well, then we'll both be sorry and leave it at that."
Cedric cleared his throat behind him and he turned. When had he got dressed? He
was jamming his foot into his trainer and looking a bit awkward. Teddy stood
and gently laid a hand on his arm.
Cedric smiled. "I think that's my cue to leave. That is unless, sir—" He turned
to Remus, his face serious. "—unless you intend to give me detention."
Remus smiled. "I think we can let this one slide, Mr Diggory. I do, however,
expect you to go straight back to your dormitory. If you don't—" He waggled the
map in his hand. “—I shall know."
"Bugger," Cedric muttered.
"I heard that. I also expect that you'll be, ah, discreet with regard to the
events of this evening," Remus added, raising his eyebrows.
"I think you can depend on that, professor, sir."
"Good. Then I won't have to spit and roast you over a slow fire for seducing my
son."
"Me? He kissed me first!" Cedric spluttered. "Besides, he's older than I am,
much older."
"Hey! I'm not that old, and you were born years before me. And it was your
fault. But I'm glad." He looked Cedric in the eye and smiled. "Really glad."
Cedric grinned back and thumped him gently on the shoulder, his hand lingering
for a moment. "Look me up in twenty years, yeah?"
Teddy nodded and watched him walk away. Before he opened the door, Cedric
turned around and walked quickly back to him, grabbed him by his shoulders and
kissed him hard. Teddy kissed him back, his hand cupping Cedric's cheek and jaw
in a gesture that was far too tender for the furious duel of lips and tongue.
He waited until Cedric pulled away first, reluctant, almost forgetting that his
father was standing a few feet away. He kept his eyes on Cedric, however, on
his lopsided grin and clear grey eyes, before Cedric finally turned and
strutted—the cocky bastard—to the door and left Teddy alone with his father.
"Well then, I suppose I'm too late for that particular father-son chat."
Teddy turned to his father and raised his eyebrows. "You have some sage advice
to offer on the subject, do you?"
"You've no idea." He handed Teddy back one of the maps. "Come, let's go up to
my office, shall we? I could do with some tea, and it'd be good to have some
privacy. I'm sure Myrtle is lurking somewhere in one of the taps, she's been
spying on students since long before I was a student here."
"Moaning Myrtle? The ghost from the girl's toilet?" Teddy shuddered.
Remus put his arm across Teddy's shoulder and walked with him to the door. "I
don't imagine life, or death really, as a ghost is very exciting. She has to
find her entertainments somewhere, don't you think? We used to catch her all
the time. Sirius in particular took great pleasure in—" He stiffened and
exhaled loudly. "Yes, well, tea then," and he closed the door behind them.
**
Teddy sat sipping his tea in the same chair in front of his father's desk, but
this time Remus sat beside him instead of across from him. They hadn't said
much since leaving the bath, and instead discovered a tendency to stare at each
other. Teddy was memorizing his father's features, every nuance, every crease,
every grey hair, the way his golden brown eyes stared back at him in the same
way, so like his own, but with a deep sadness that shone like a beacon,
something he hadn't noticed the last time.
He realised then that his father was a consummate liar. Not maliciously, no,
but for self-protection. Even without the abilities of a Metamorphmagus, his
father wore two distinct faces. The public face that he'd seen as Roger, the
face that lied, and the private one he wore now. The honest face. It hurt him
to see his father so naked before him, but it was heartening, too, the depth of
trust, the vulnerability his father allowed him to see.
As he watched, he saw a look of awareness blossom on his father's face.
"It was you," he said, putting his teacup down on the small table he'd
conjured. "That evening in my office, the discussion about werewolves." Teddy
nodded, grinning shyly. "I couldn't quite work it out when Roger handed in his
essay and he'd written about vampires. I said nothing, of course, but now it
makes sense. I would assume you know then. My deep dark secret."
"Of course I know. I am your son. And, no, before you say anything more, I
don't care, and all that rubbish about beasts and sub-humans you had me arguing
with you about is just that: pure and utter rubbish."
Remus' smile was wide and genuine, and it thrilled Teddy to see it.
"I'm sorry I deceived you. I just…" He shrugged. "I wanted to meet you. I'd
stand outside your classroom door for hours, listening to you teach. Harry and
H—the others," he amended quickly, "they always said you were the best Defence
teacher they had. I figured they were biased and exaggerating a bit, to make me
feel better, maybe, but they weren't. They were right."
Remus smiled and a faint blush stained his cheeks. "I'm flattered. I'm sure
they did exaggerate, but it's a lovely compliment all the same. I didn't think
I'd enjoy teaching as much as I do. I've been very lucky this year,
considering, well…" He trailed off.
"The Dementors. And Sirius." Remus stiffened and the beacon was back at full
intensity. "Dad…" Teddy licked his lips and swirled the dregs of his tea in his
teacup. It was wrong. It might even be suicidal. He'd find out the truth soon
enough, but the pain in his father's eyes wrenched at his heart.
"There's something I have to tell you, but you have to promise me. It's
something you're going to find out anyway soon, but—"
"Why do you call him by his first name? You did that earlier, as well." Remus'
voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
"That's what I need to tell you."
"You shouldn't. Messing with time, it could have dire consequences. If you've
noticed, I haven't asked you about your mother."
Teddy laughed and it was a hollow sound. "I wouldn't tell you, but now that
we've met, I'd bet you a thousand Galleons you'll figure out exactly who she is
the moment you meet her, if you haven't already, and if either of us had a
thousand Galleons to spare. I'm sorry about that. That puts a bit of an
obligation on you. Will you marry her for your sake or for mine? I suppose now
we'll never know, though I do hope you come to love her for her own sake."
Remus inhaled sharply in surprise. "That… that's extraordinarily perceptive.
And quite the conundrum. You're right, I don't suppose I'll ever know the
truth. Perhaps it's best that way. I'd hate to do her a disservice. Maybe you
shouldn't tell her about this part."
Teddy nodded and changed the subject. "So, Sirius." His father stiffened again
at the name, his entire body channelling his sorrow.
"Please," Remus said. "You say it with such familiarity. I don't know if I—you
do know what he's done, what he's trying to do even now?"
"Yes."
"Then how…?"
"Will you promise me something first? No matter what I tell you, you have to
keep your word. The entire future and the lives of so many people depend on you
keeping this promise. It's something you won't want to do, but you have to. You
were right about messing with time; the future has to remain intact. Will you
trust me?"
"With my life," Remus replied immediately, leaning forward slightly in his
chair. "I've borne heavier burdens. And for you, I can't imagine there's
anything I wouldn't do."
"We just met," Teddy said with some surprise. "How could you…?"
Remus smiled. "I never expected to have a child. I've always believed that
werewolves shouldn't reproduce. What if I passed on my condition to an innocent
child, a child of my blood? I don't think I could live with that. The guilt
would devour me whole. But seeing you," he said, and his smile was one of pure
joy. "Oh, Teddy, I don't think I can even articulate." He reached out and
clasped Teddy's hand, squeezing.
"It doesn't matter that we met only a short time ago. Don't you see?"
Teddy nodded and swallowed over the lump in his throat. They sat that way for a
while, holding hands and smiling at each other, holding a silent conversation,
a communion, without saying a word.
Remus cleared his throat. "So you have my promise," he said, gently detaching
his hand and reaching over to pour them both another cup of tea.
Teddy watched the steam rising from the deep brown liquid for a moment and rose
to his feet. He moved the table over a few inches and knelt on the floor before
his father's chair, and took his hands in his.
"When I tell you, you can't go running off. You have to let things happen as
they're meant to, and it won't be easy. There are too many things and the
timing is everything. But I'm telling you because I think it's important that
you know the truth. I can't bear to see you in so much pain when I know I can
help ease it. Although that's a double-edged sword. It's not a pleasant story,
Dad, not by any means but, as I said, it's something you'd find out anyway,
whether I were here or not."
Remus nodded, and Teddy could read the anxiety in his expression too easily. He
took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, carefully watching his father's face.
"Sirius is innocent. He was never the Potters' Secret Keeper."
Remus started violently and tugged his hands away but Teddy held on tight.
"No!" he cried and his eyes were wild. "That's impossible! He killed—he never—"
"He never had a trial," Teddy interrupted. "Sirius never said, but Harry and I
talked about it once. We're convinced it was his guilt over persuading James to
switch to someone else at the last minute, over his misplaced doubt in you… he
felt he deserved the punishment because he let James and Lily die."
Remus had tears in his eyes and a look of abject horror on his face, but Teddy
still held fast to his hands. "No. He killed Peter," he whispered. "There were
a dozen witnesses…"
"—who heard Peter say that Sirius was guilty."
"The street, the Muggles…"
"Peter used what was probably a Blasting Curse behind his back. I'm sorry, Dad.
I'm so sorry." Tears were spilling down Remus' face and his own eyes welled
with tears. Pain was radiating off Remus in waves.
"Peter was the Secret Keeper. Peter was a spy for Voldemort, a Death Eater, a
traitor, a coward. That's why Sirius went after Peter. I imagine he wanted to
kill him at the time, but not for the reason you or anyone else has believed
all these years."
Remus bowed his head and wept. Teddy released his hands, tugged him down onto
the floor beside him and held him, rocking them both gently.
It was strange, this parental role reversal. Suddenly all the years of longing,
all the anger and annoyance at what, in the end, amounted to something so
trivial, were pushed aside, broken down into their basest components and
reassembled into something new, something bright, something gratifying, and he
was almost ashamed of some of his past behaviour. When he returned home, and he
knew now that he had to leave, there would still be emptiness, a deep loss, and
it would hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced. But now he had memories
with which to fill the void. He'd heal.
He smiled. His father had stilled and was simply embracing him now. It was all
a bit unmanly, perhaps, but he didn't particularly care right now; One more
thing to treasure, to fill the void.
Remus pulled back and Teddy reluctantly let him go. They looked at the jumbled
mess of their long limbs entangled with each other and the chair legs and
laughed, and it was a good laugh. They disentangled themselves and stood.
Remus looked at the tea. "It's cold."
"Did you need me to teach you a warming charm?"
Remus smacked him playfully on the arm. "Don't get cheeky with your old man."
Teddy raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence, and Remus narrowed his eyes.
"Oh, really?" Remus took his wand from his pocket and emptied their teacups,
tapped the kettle, and when it steamed, pocketed his wand and poured two fresh
cups. "Warming charms are crap," he said with satisfaction, sitting back down
in his chair. He picked up his cup and sipped. "There are still a number of
things that don't make any sense."
Teddy grinned as he watched his father, and really, who was the cheeky one? He
raised his eyebrows again at his question. "What's that?"
"First, why has Sirius been trying to break into Gryffindor tower? Ron Weasley
swore he saw Sirius standing over him with a knife."
Teddy nodded. "Ron Weasley has a pet rat," he said simply.
The look of incredulity on Remus' face was almost comical and he might have
laughed if the subject hadn't been so grave.
"Wormtail. That bastard! And I suppose that answers my other questions of how
he disappeared the day Sirius supposedly killed him." Remus snarled and slammed
down his teacup, sloshing liquid all over the table. "I'll kill him, if I ever
get my hands on him, fuck magic, I'll wring his bloody rat neck with my bare
hands!"
"Dad…"
"What!" Remus snapped. Teddy recognized his anger; he'd seen it directed at him
only a short time ago. His father was furious. This wasn't going to be easy.
"You promised you'd do something, even though I told you that you wouldn't want
to."
"I know I did!"
Teddy sighed. "You can't kill him."
Remus glared at him. "Of course I can. And I plan to do it slowly with as much
pain as humanly possible."
"That's the promise. Peter has to live. And not only live, but the night you
capture him, the night of the June full moon, he has to escape."
Remus gaped. "You can't ask that of me. After all he's done…"
"But I am asking. Peter has to escape. There are things that Peter needs to do,
and if he doesn't do them, and I say this knowing what he's done, and what it's
cost you and Sirius, and Harry's parents, not to mention Harry himself. If he
doesn't do these things, then Harry will die."
"You can't know that!"
"I do know it."
"You can't—"
"I do!" Teddy yelled. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Dad, do you
think I would ask you to do this if it wasn't important? I know you're
angry—furious!—and Merlin knows you have every right to be, but please. For my
sake, for Harry's sake, and for the sake of wizardkind. Please."
Remus sighed, his shoulders slumping, then nodded.
"One more thing."
"Just one?" Remus said with a hint of sarcasm.
Teddy exhaled sharply through his nose and ignored his father's tone. He knew
he didn't really mean it. "You'll want to kill him, and you'll threaten to do
so. Harry will stop you, so let him."
"Harry will be there, too? No, I won't let him be harmed, Teddy. You said it's
the night of the full moon!"
"Harry will be there, and he won't be in any danger. Sirius will be there, and
you'll be there, and you have the Wolfsbane Potion so you won't be dangerous.
Trust me. Trust yourself. And above all, trust Harry. Listen, Sirius is going
to need you. He's your friend and he's completely alone in the world right now.
Sirius is more important than Peter and—" He ducked his head. "—and Moony needs
Padfoot."
Remus looked at his son with narrowed eyes, exhaled loudly and threw up his
hands. "Do I have any secrets left?"
Teddy stood up and began to pace. "What? Because I know what your friends did
for you so they could be with you during the full moon? So you wouldn't ever
have to be alone? Why wouldn't I know that? Of course Harry told me. I'm sorry
if I embarrassed you, but you need him. You shouldn't have to be alone. You've
missed him, I know you have. He was your best friend. You've both been alone
all these years, and he needs you, too."
Remus shook his head and grinned ruefully. "I'm going to have to have a chat
with your mother, because you did not get this from me."
"I'm sure she'd disagree," he said lightly.
"Teddy."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
Teddy grinned and sat back down. "Drink your tea before it gets cold again."
"Smart arse."
"At least I come by it honestly."
Remus chuckled ruefully and sipped his tea. They sat in a quiet, companionable
silence for a few minutes before Remus said, "You have to go back," and there
was regret in his voice.
"I know."
"If… I'm not trying to get rid of you."
"I know." Teddy sighed and held his feet out straight in front of him. "I was
afraid I'd stayed too long already, knew I probably had, but I couldn't…" He
shrugged and looked at his feet, kicking them aimlessly. "I need to say good-
bye to Cedric."
"You really like him," Remus said softly.
Teddy looked up sharply and raised his eyebrows. "I thought that was fairly
obvious."
"It was."
"You're not, you know, angry? Upset? Ashamed?"
"Of course not."
"It just sort of happened, kind of surprised me, too. I didn't—I mean…"
"Love is love," Remus said simply.
"I'm not, I mean, we're not… it's not love."
"All relationships are a kind of love in their own way."
Teddy shrugged. "Like you said, I have to go back. It can't ever be anything
more than what it was. Do you think he's still awake?"
Remus shook his head. "Possibly, I wouldn't know. But you already said your
goodbyes. He's a smart young man. He knew when he left you earlier. You knew,
too."
"Yeah. Tell him…" He looked down at his feet, biting his lip. No, he couldn't
change anything. He'd already risked enough. Enough. How does one measure the
value of a human life anyway? He thought about Cedric's portrait, back home and
waiting in his common room. Would it—he remember? Could he bear to see Cedric
again like that? So distant and utterly untouchable?
Remus inclined his head, waiting.
"Nothing. It's… nothing. Sorry." He shook his head and looked back up at his
father. "Be nice to him, by the way. Even if he did."
"Did what?"
"Seduce me. Although he was right in that I kissed him first." Teddy grinned
impudently
"You realise all this is much more than any parent needs to know."
"It'll be good practice."
"I'm sure I'll be grateful," Remus said and rolled his eyes with mirth.
Teddy stood up and put his cup down. "Thanks for the tea. I'll—I'll miss you,
this time we had. It was… special."
Remus stood up, too, picked up Teddy's bag from beside his desk and handed it
to him. "You have your map?"
Teddy patted his right side pocket. "Never leave home without it. I still can't
believe you created it, you know. I'm glad though, it's been quite handy.
Clever bastards, the lot of you."
Remus laughed. "You don't know the half of it," he agreed.
Teddy started. A few months ago, that statement would have devastated him, but
now, well, he'd discovered there were more important things.
"I'm glad Harry gave it to you. It seems I'll have to return my copy to him
eventually."
"You'd better," he said, glaring, then grinned. They left Remus' office
together, walking side by side, arms brushing occasionally while they walked.
They didn't speak.
When they reached the seventh floor corridor, Teddy turned, a shy smile on his
face. "I guess this is good-bye."
"For now," Remus said softly and reached up to brush Teddy's fringe away from
his forehead. He smiled sadly. "Don't grieve for me."
Teddy stared in horror as the blood drained from his face and his insides
twisted painfully. "I didn't—"
"You didn't have to. Why else would you have come?"
"Too clever," Teddy whispered.
"And you. I'm so proud of you. And if I ever forgot to tell you, or if you were
too young to remember, I love you." He leaned in and kissed Teddy on the
forehead. "Be well. Be happy. Now go."
"Dad…"
Remus smiled. "I know."
Teddy embraced him hard. "I love you, too," he whispered, then turned without
looking back, swiped his hand across his eyes and began pacing.
**
"Ow," he muttered to himself. The room could be a little gentler about these
things, he thought. Still on his knees, he glanced behind him but the door had
already vanished. Getting to his feet, he saw a bright flash out of the corner
of his eye and ducked instinctively. Peeking around, he saw the corridor
remained empty. There were no further flashes, no footsteps and no voices, and
he breathed a sigh of relief. He got to his feet, but immediately noticed
something was wrong.
The tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy was missing. In its place was a strange
painting. Not a portrait: a landscape. An empty landscape at that. There was a
hill of stubby green and yellow grass and a flat blue sky, and nothing more.
Not even a cloud. Certainly nothing to cause the flash of light he'd seen. Not
a very exciting painting either, unless the usual occupant was off visiting a
friend.
He was about to turn away when something else caught his eye. He could have
sworn a face had quickly peeked out from the side of the painting. It happened
sometimes. The occupant must be shy. He sighed and relaxed, and wondered what
fate had befallen poor Barnabas.
He reached into his pocket and removed his wand and the map. "I solemnly swear
that I am up to no good."
He gave a cursory glance to make sure the corridor and the surrounding area
really was clear and sighed with relief when the map showed that nobody was
nearby. He had no idea what the date was—had time passed here while he'd been
away, or was it by chance the same day he'd left? The corridor was dim, but he
couldn't tell if it were day or night from that. The halls were usually dim.
He checked the map: classrooms were empty, Great Hall was empty, and the dots
in the Hufflepuff dormitory were still, nobody in the common room. He found
Simon's dot, and Fezzie's dot, but no Gordon or Philip. Instead, he saw the
dots of three different students, and it took him a moment to realise the
significance of their names. "But they're in Gryffindor!"
He unfolded the map and his eyes fell on Gryffindor Tower or, more
specifically, the place that used to be Gryffindor Tower. The map showed an
empty space as if the tower had simply vanished from existence.
His heart raced, and he unfolded the other side to check on Ravenclaw, but that
tower remained intact, students asleep inside, and the Slytherin dungeons were
also visible and populated. Perhaps a little too populated, he noticed on
closer inspection. He saw the names of a few students he knew from his own
house sleeping in Slytherin, as well as students he knew from Ravenclaw and one
or two from Gryffindor. Very strange. What had happened to Gryffindor?
He was suddenly afraid. Something was very wrong. What if the room had sent him
back to the wrong time? What if he was fifty or hundreds of years in his
future? No, he'd seen his friends' names. He was definitely in the right time.
But something dreadful must have happened in the three months he'd been gone.
He sighed. There was no help for it; he was going to have to go see the
Headmistress. He hoped she wouldn't be too angry with him, after all, it had
hardly been his fault that he'd gone in the first place. He'd have to explain
to Harry, but that could wait. So could his meeting with a certain portrait, a
meeting he both dreaded and anticipated. Would he remember?
He bit his lip, checking to see if the Headmistress was by chance awake in her
office, and nearly dropped the map.
"But that's impossible! Severus Snape and Tom Riddle are dead!" he spluttered.
"How remarkable," a voice replied.
***** Chapter 7: (strange) how certain the journey *****
Chapter 7: (strange) how certain the journey
"Threatening the headmaster and the Minister for Magic is a serious offence in
some places. Oh, not here, I assure you, though you should be aware that,
despite his faults, Headmaster Snape always has the best interests of his
students at heart."
Teddy looked up, alarmed, searching for the owner of the voice. It was the
landscape portrait, only now it was no longer empty. On the hill stood an old
man with long white hair and beard, and half-moon spectacles perched on his
crooked nose.
"P—Professor Dumbledore?"
"It's nice to know that an old man is still remembered, and fondly it would
seem, though I hate to be presumptuous. I'd offer you a Lemon Sherbet, but I'm
afraid I haven't any at the moment. That's quite a map you have, rather
ingenious."
"Professor, what's happened? Where's Gryffindor? And why aren't Snape and
Voldemort dead? Where's Harry? Is my grandmother okay? Are my parents alive?"
"So many questions. I see that we might have a problem, or perhaps an
opportunity. Fortuitous that I happened to be passing by just as you appeared.
Hunches truly are an amazing thing. The Muggles say that one must never look a
gift horse in the mouth, but dental hygiene is just as important to horses as
it is to humans, Muggle or wizard, wouldn't you say?" He picked at a bit of
lint on his sleeve.
Ron had been right. Apparently they'd found a good substitute for old Barnabas.
Professor Dumbledore was completely off his rocker. Still, it was Dumbledore.
"Now, young man, first things first. I've dispatched with one problem,"
Dumbledore said, pointing at a dark blob almost out of the frame that Teddy
hadn't noticed before. It looked like a pair of boots. "But first, are you
versed in any kind of silencing or muffling spells? It wouldn't do for our
conversation to accidentally carry to other, shall we say, unfriendly ears."
Teddy raised his wand. "Muffliato. Imperturbus."
"Of course you are. Well done. That should keep us safe for the moment. Next, I
must ask you, what is your name?"
He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Teddy, sir. Teddy Lupin."
"Interesting. Perchance are you related to Remus Lupin," he asked, steepling
his fingers beneath his chin.
"His son, sir. I thought you knew."
Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "How remarkable," he said again.
"How very remarkable. Pardon my nosiness, Mr Lupin, but might I ask, where did
you come from when you fell through the wall behind you?"
"Er, well, it was the Room of Requirement, sir. It sort of kicked me out."
"That's quite a feat. That Room hasn't existed in this corridor for years. You
must be rather extraordinary, Mr Lupin. Unless," he said, pausing and
scrutinizing Teddy, his blue eyes piercing.
"Doesn't exist? What—you mean the Room is gone? How could it be gone? It can't
be gone!" He began to pace. I need you to open, I need a place to think, I need
to know what's going on.
"I'm afraid that won't help," Dumbledore said as Teddy cursed when a door
failed to appear. "As I said, the Room no longer inhabits this space. Now, Mr
Lupin, and this is very important, where were you when you last entered the
Room, right before you made such a spectacular exit?"
"I was in this corridor," Teddy said, clenching his fists. "Right here. Only
that bloody tapestry with the dancing trolls was here instead of you."
"Barnabas? His tapestry hasn't hung here for the last eighteen years, give or
take a few months. You'll forgive me if my math is a bit rusty."
"Eighteen—? But I'm eighteen, and I can assure you he was here when I left."
"I see. So perhaps then I should ask you this, Mr Lupin. When were you when you
last entered the Room of Requirement."
Teddy's stomach plunged and he broke out into a cold sweat. "When?" he asked,
his voice high and far too squeaky.
"I assure you that I have no authority to punish you, no matter what it is that
you've done, nor would I in any case, but it is important that you tell me the
truth. I cannot help you if you cannot trust me."
Teddy nodded. He knew Dumbledore was right, and from the look of things, he
also desperately needed his help. "Sir, what year is it?"
"It's 2016. May the thirtieth I believe. Is that relevant?"
"Yes, sir. Because when I entered the room, well, it was the beginning of May,
but that's not important. What is important is that it was the year 1994."
"I was not aware that Remus Lupin had an eighteen year old son in 1994."
"He didn't, sir."
"I see. I do seem to recall that in May of 1994, Remus Lupin was here at
Hogwarts, teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"He was, sir. You asked me where I had been last, and that's where I was. But
before that, I'd been here. In 2016."
"Time travel," Dumbledore said, nodding. "I see. The events of this evening
lead me to presume the Room of Requirement was your…travel agent."
Teddy nodded. "Yes, sir. I swear I didn't ask it to send me back in time in the
first place. That was an accident."
"Again, I say, Mr Lupin, you must be rather extraordinary. However, I'm afraid
that your trip appears to have resulted in a number of unforeseen consequences.
From your initial, shall we say, exclamation, I shall also presume that before
your travels, Professor Snape and Tom Riddle were deceased."
"Yes, sir. Harry defeated Voldemort, and Professor Snape was killed by, well,
he died to help Harry succeed, sir."
"Well done, Severus," Dumbledore murmured. "It would seem then, that something
happened during your travels that changed your history. And from what you've
said thus far, not for the better. Teddy," he said softly, "did you meet your
father?"
Teddy was stricken. "He promised. He promised he wouldn't change what happened
that day. He, well, he found out it was me, and I had to tell him the truth.
Well, not all of it of course. There was one thing, though. The night Pettigrew
escaped. I told him what had to happen, that Peter had to escape, and he
promised he would make sure he did."
"And Remus kept his word. Peter Pettigrew did indeed escape from my custody
that evening, and now an old puzzle is solved. Thank you. However, there are
always unforeseen consequences. Inadvertent though they may be."
"So I did this. I created this future. It's my fault!" Teddy was shaking. If
Voldemort lived, then Harry was dead, all of the people he loved were also
likely dead, and it was all his fault. But where was he? Did he even exist in
this nightmare world he'd created?
"Blame is irrelevant, Teddy," Dumbledore said, his voice soft once again. "The
question is, what are you willing to sacrifice to correct it?"
"How can I correct anything? I have no power here. I don't even know if I exist
here! The Room of Requirement is gone, Voldemort and his Death Eaters rule the
wizarding world, and I'm an eighteen year old kid with a wand and a map of the
school. And if Voldemort's alive, that means Harry is dead." When Dumbledore
did not refute his statement, Teddy went completely cold. He leaned back
against the wall where the Room of Requirement once resided, and slumped to the
floor in anguish.
"I will ask you again. What are you willing to sacrifice, Mr Lupin?" The voice
was still soft, but its steel rang in the empty corridor.
Teddy looked up and stared defiantly at Dumbledore. "If I could, I'd give my
life. Is that what you want to know? Harry Potter was the only father I ever
knew—until recently—and he raised me well. Perhaps he'd do it for less selfish
reasons than I, I don't know. I'm no martyr, but I'm not a coward either, sir."
"I'm glad to know it Teddy Remus Lupin, because in a very paradoxical sense,
that may be your only choice, and consequently, our only chance. Your mother
and father would be proud."
"You do know me, then," Teddy said, startled.
"I know you were born, I know who your parents were, and I know of your
talents, which you inherited from your mother, yes, but I also know that no
student named Teddy Lupin has ever set foot in these halls. Until tonight of
course. I am privileged to a lot of information, but I'm afraid that of your
present whereabouts in this timeline, I know nothing. Only that you somehow
stand before me now, and you may very well be our last, best hope."
"But what can I do, sir? If the Room of Requirement were still here, maybe…" He
clenched his fists.
"Perhaps we should move to where it now resides then."
"Now resides—but you said it didn't exist!"
"You must learn to listen, Teddy. I said it no longer inhabits this space. The
Room of Requirement is a very peculiar and rather extraordinary entity. On the
night the school fell to Tom Riddle, the night Gryffindor Tower was destroyed,
the Room moved itself and has remained hidden ever since."
"But how—"
Dumbledore shrugged. "Nobody knows, though perhaps one day you might ask it. I
dare say the answer would be fascinating. For now, however, I must ask you to
wear another face. There are other…spies in these halls. Something cruel and
imposing might do. If we're fortunate, you merely need to fool a few portraits.
While Professor Snape would not harm you himself, there are others who would
not be so merciful, especially if they were to discover your true identity."
Teddy shuddered. He darkened his hair and grew it longer so that it partially
covered his face and flowed down past his shoulders. He added a few wrinkles,
thickened his brows, and grew out the stubble on his jaw. His nose grew larger
and his lips thinner, and as a final touch, added a jagged scar on one cheek,
giving himself a sneering appearance.
"Very nice," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Now, I cannot walk along the hall with
you, but you needn't go far. The Room of Requirement inhabits what remains of
Gryffindor Tower. Most of the tower has collapsed and it is itself
uninhabitable, but the Room should provide what you need."
"That's why I couldn't see it on the map," Teddy exclaimed. When Dumbledore
looked puzzled, Teddy added, "the Room. It hides itself from the map, too."
"Interesting. Now, I fear you'll have to be quick. There are many portraits in
that corridor loyal to Riddle. If things get out of hand, a good Stunning Spell
will come in handy. You know what you have to do?"
Teddy nodded. "Yes, sir."
"I will follow as I can, but I can only hope that we have no reason to meet
again in this particular time and place. I must ask you, Teddy, if you should
encounter my younger self, you must promise not to try to save my life or alter
my death as you remember it. Death is a part of life, and in certain
circumstances, it is necessary. Do I have your word?
"Yes, sir, I promise."
Dumbledore nodded. "If you are successful, it is important that you remember
this: You have a very dangerous tool at your disposal. Your knowledge of the
future is a far heavier burden than you can possibly imagine right now.
Temptation will plague your every step if you allow it to rule you. You must be
wise, Teddy Lupin, wiser than your years, and you must listen and learn, and
you must protect yourself. Every death you aspire to prevent carries the seeds
of both risk and reward. In the end, only you will know the consequences.
Remember who you are and where you come from."
His forehead tingled where his father had kissed him. "Yes, sir. I'll do my
best."
"That is indeed all anyone can do. Now, off you go."
Teddy looked at Professor Dumbledore one last time and nodded. He checked the
map to make sure the seventh floor was clear, wiped it blank and stowed it in
his pocket. Wand in hand, he squared his shoulders and strode off down the hall
as if he belonged.
**
"Bloody buggering hell," he exclaimed. His knees were going to be purple with
bruises. He glanced up quickly, brushing his too-long hair from his eyes, and
sighed in relief. Good ol' Barnabas. He'd never look at that tapestry with
scorn again.
He got shakily to his feet, shouldered his bag, and without another thought,
bolted for the nearest stairs. He had to find his father.
He was panting when he reached the second-floor office, and stood before the
door, holding his stomach and trying to catch his breath. It was daylight; he'd
managed to see that much when he'd passed a row of windows, and there were
students about. He'd nearly bowled a few over in his haste.
He rapped sharply on the door. "Da—Professor Lupin," he called. "Are you here?"
He tried the knob but it was locked and did not respond to Alohomora. He
glanced quickly around the corridor before reaching into a small pocket of his
bag and extracting the knife Harry had given him for Christmas last year. He
ran the blade around the door frame and this time, the door creaked open. He
stepped into the room and stopped cold, hand still on the doorknob, staring
around at the strange paraphernalia that occupied the room.
This wasn't his father's office anymore. The glass tanks and overstuffed
bookcases were gone. A large mirror hung on one wall, a huge trunk sat beneath
the window in the back corner behind the desk, and shelves and tables full of
spindly gadgets, sneakoscopes and a few other things he recognized vaguely from
Harry's study, took up the rest of the cluttered room.
He glanced at the mirror and started, whirling in surprise, wand in one hand,
knife in the other, but there was no-one behind him. He turned back to the
mirror and groaned at his own idiocy before relaxing his features back to
normal.
"Stupid, stupid," he muttered, pocketing the knife and looking about the room
again, his gaze lingering on the large trunk. Oh. Shit. He backed away slowly
into the corridor, and closed the door, his face grim. More time had passed
here than he'd realized. He had to find Cedric.
He walked back down the corridor towards the nearest bathroom when classes let
out and students came streaming out of a nearby classroom. They paid no
attention to him, busy chatting and hurrying off, probably to their next
classes. He passed a group of girls who were talking and giggling amongst
themselves, several of them sporting large badges on the front of their robes:
Support Cedric Diggory!
"He'll win. He's in first place."
"Tied for first place," another girl corrected.
The first girl tossed her hair. "Potter hasn't got a chance," she sniffed.
"He's done well so far, hasn't he?"
"Luck. Probably cheating. You know Dumbledore favours him."
"Professor Dumbledore wouldn't do that!" another girl said.
"Pansy Parkinson said so. And you saw what happened last February. He was dead
last coming out of that lake, and they still awarded him second place. He won't
be so lucky tomorrow. Have you seen the hedges on the Quidditch pitch? Must be
twenty feet tall. Roger Davies said Fleur told him it was a maze!"
Teddy pushed past them walking swiftly, his heart beating loudly in his ears.
The Tri-Wizard Tournament. Tomorrow was the Third Task. One day. He ducked into
the bathroom and went straight to a stall, ignoring the other boys who were in
there, and sat down heavily on the seat.
"Nah, Krum's gonna win. Those Durmstrang kids know dark spells. He'll probably
blast his way to the middle of the thing, though I suppose Diggory will put up
a good fight. He's not bad."
"Harry'll win, you just wait."
"You're out of your tree, Longbottom. Ten Galleons says Krum clobbers him."
"You probably haven't even got ten Galleons."
"Won't need 'em when I win the bet, will I?"
He heard the door close behind them as they left, but sat where he was for a
long while, breathing, trying to relax, to think. He peeked through the crack
in the door to make sure the room was empty. Assured of his privacy, he left
the stall and stood before a sink, splashing cold water on his face and staring
at his reflection in the mirror.
Heavy burden.
Every death you prevent carries the seeds of both risk and reward.
He dried his hands, and turned away from the mirror, pulling the map from his
pocket.
"Cedric, Cedric, where are you," he whispered, scanning the dots. There were
students everywhere and it was difficult to locate anyone. He checked the
Hufflepuff common room first, but it was mostly empty. No Cedric in the
dormitory. He started scanning classrooms then moved on to the library… there!
Teddy shoved the map in his pocket and strode out the door. He'd already made
up his mind before he'd stepped back into the Room of Requirement this last
time. Dumbledore's words still rang in his head, but his conscience told him
this was the right thing to do. Dumbledore had made him promise not to
interfere in his own death, but he hadn't said anything about anyone else. He'd
told him to listen, to learn, and he had. He'd arrived the day before Cedric
died. The Room could have brought him anywhere, but it chose this specific day.
It was a sign, he knew it. He couldn't rely solely on his sketchy knowledge of
future events, he had to trust his instincts.
He strode down the fourth floor corridor and pushed his way through the library
doors, scanning the groups of people clustered near the librarian's desk and at
nearby tables. He turned to walk toward the far stacks when he saw him. Cedric
was walking towards him, completely surrounded by a crowd of people, an
abstract and distant expression on his face. His friends were far too loud, as
they herded him along, slapping him on the back and joking.
"Make way for the Champion," the boy in front cried, pushing two smaller
students out of the way.
Teddy stood and waited, relieved. The tightly clustered group dispersed as they
entered into the front atrium where Teddy stood and he was able to see him more
clearly now. He looked exactly as he had in his portrait. Teddy was just about
to step forward when he noticed a pretty, dark-haired girl walking close to
Cedric's side, smiling brightly. They were holding hands.
Teddy's heart sank, gooseflesh prickling over his skin as a sense of vertigo
swept over him, making Cedric appear to be much farther away, separated from
him by a long, narrow tunnel; separated from him by time and space and
everything that mattered.
The girl turned to him, stood on her toes and kissed him. He turned his head,
their lips meeting briefly, and he smiled at her before turning away, his
expression returning to its former troubled demeanour.
It's not love, he'd told his father. And it wasn't. Hadn't been. But there had
been friendship, a real affection, and trust. A kind of love, his father had
said in response. Maybe. He felt naked and exposed, embarrassed by his own
assumptions. It didn't matter whether or not it had been love, it still hurt.
Cedric saw him then, and his jaw gaped. Their eyes met and Teddy nodded. He
swallowed hard, and turned away, striding back through the doors and out into
the corridor.
"Teddy, wait!"
He exhaled heavily through his nose and kept walking. He had to get away, had
to think. Besides, Cedric would know where to find him.
**
He lay once again on the canopied bed. It had been hours, but Cedric hadn't
come. He'd watched him on the map, at supper in the Great Hall, with Cho Chang,
who he surmised was the girl he'd seen him with, by the entrance to Ravenclaw
tower, in the Hufflepuff common room and finally, in his dormitory. Teddy had
deactivated the map then, stowing it in his bag and then moodily stomping
around the small room. He'd vetoed going to the kitchens; he wasn't very
hungry.
It had been a single day for him. Last night he and Cedric had…. He sighed. So
much had happened in the past twenty-four hours, it was a wonder he could think
straight at all.
Twenty-four hours for you. More than a year for him. Should he have sat around
pining for you, faithfully waiting and celibate for those twenty two years? his
spiteful inner voice piped up.
Teddy clenched his fists and pounded on the mattress. Oh, shut up! Of course
not! And he didn't have twenty years – didn't even have two! he retorted. He
hated the way he felt, so replete with self-pity. Of course Cedric would get on
with his life. Why would he have expected that I'd come back? I'm the intruder.
I just need time—
He laughed raucously, and it was an ugly sound, guttural. Time. That's all I've
got. I don't want any more time, I'm up to my bloody ears in time.
There was a knock at the door. Startled from his selfish reflections, Teddy sat
up, debated whether or not to put his t-shirt back on, and tossed it aside
instead. He knew damn well who was at the door and he didn't have to dress for
company.
He opened the door and stepped back. Cedric stared at him across the threshold.
"You came back."
Teddy nodded.
"Why?"
"Does it matter?" he asked.
"No," Cedric replied. "Maybe. I don't know. Can I come in?"
Teddy shrugged, and walked away, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"You're angry."
He shrugged again. Great, I'm so eloquent, he thought.
Cedric closed the door and walked closer until he stood in front of Teddy.
"You're jealous," he chided.
"I'm not," Teddy said.
Cedric let it pass. "When…?"
"Today," Teddy said. "About an hour before I saw you."
Cedric nodded. "It's been a long time. You look exactly the same."
"For you," Teddy said, and he couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice.
"What do you mean?"
Teddy turned away.
Cedric sat down beside him, and without looking, Teddy noticed the distance,
far enough so they weren't touching. Well.
"Teddy?"
"It was only yesterday for me," he said softly. He shook his head and turned
back. "Doesn't matter."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
He shrugged again. "Nothing to be sorry for. She's pretty."
"Why did you come back?"
"Lots of reasons. No reason. I told you, it doesn't matter."
Cedric sighed. "You gonna go see your father?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure where he is right now. But I know where he'll be
soon enough. At least I think I do. Maybe I'll send him an owl."
"Tell him hello for me. And tell him thanks. You were right; I did get an
Outstanding on my O.W.L."
"I guess you had more time for revising after I left."
It was Cedric's turn to shrug. "I went and talked to him a few times. After,
you know. He was nice. I haven't seen him since he left. I thought about
writing to him, but I didn't know what to say. I guess you know…"
"That he's a werewolf? Of course I know."
"You never said."
"Wasn't my secret to tell."
"True. I don't care. When you see him, tell him there's a bunch of us, in my
house, probably more in Gryffindor."
"He'll be glad to know that."
"So, you gonna stick around for a while? Tomorrow's the third task. I'm one of
the Champions, but you probably knew that, too."
"Yes," Teddy said softly.
"And Harry. He's a good kid. Strange as it may sound, we've become friends,
sort of. I like him. It's been a strange year. Interesting, though."
"Ancient Muggle curse, 'May you live in interesting times'."
Cedric frowned. "How is that a curse? I'd choose interesting over dull any
day."
"Cedric." Cedric wasn't looking at him. He was staring at the rug beside the
bed. "Cedric," he said again.
Cedric turned his head, and Teddy leaned in and kissed him. Cedric gasped and
Teddy slipped his tongue inside, gently, probing, testing. Cedric responded and
he felt the touch of Cedric's fingers in his hair before Cedric pulled back and
turned away.
"I can't. I'm sorry."
"Cho," Teddy said.
Cedric spread his arms and ducked his head. "It's not fair to her."
"No. I remember her. I met her once or twice. I didn't recognise her at first.
She was a friend of Harry's. Ginny didn't like her much, but she was nice. We
talked Quidditch. I remember she was a Tornados fan."
"I should go," Cedric said, shifting closer to the edge of the bed and
standing.
Teddy nodded.
"You coming tomorrow? To watch?"
Teddy started to nod, then grasped Cedric's hand and stood up, facing him.
"Wait. I have to talk to you." He noticed, with a jolt of pleasure, that Cedric
didn't pull his hand away.
"It's about tomorrow," he continued. "The maze. The cup."
Cedric grinned crookedly. "I win? No, don't tell me. I don't want—"
"Listen to me!" Teddy said, squeezing Cedric's hand. "This is important. Fuck
the tournament! If you touch the cup, if you take it, you'll die."
Cedric was incredulous. "What are you talking about?"
"Tomorrow. You and Harry, the both of you. Some giant spider or skrewt or
something." He saw Cedric shudder. "You both get there, you help each other and
you both choose to take the cup together. Listen to me, Cedric. You can't go
with him. Harry has to go. Something happens, the cup is a Portkey."
"Well, then we'll go to Dumbledore," Cedric said. "Right now. We'll tell him.
He'll know what to—"
"No! You don't understand. Harry has to go where the Portkey takes him. It's
the only way he can defeat Voldemort."
Cedric started at the name. "You-Know-Who is dead," he snapped, narrowing his
eyes and finally pulling his hand from Teddy's grasp. "I know you're angry with
me, and you obviously want Harry to win since he's your godfather, but I'd
thought—"
"It's not about the bloody tournament, you arse! I could give a fig about the
tournament! I'm trying to save your life!"
"Why should I believe you? When you were here last time, you told me you knew
me in your time. How could you know me if I die tomorrow? Answer me that."
"I lied."
Cedric looked as if he'd been slapped and his voice was like ice. "I see."
"No, I didn't..."
"We're finished here, Teddy. I have to go," Cedric said, storming off towards
the door.
Teddy ran after him, grabbed him by his shoulder and slammed him up against the
wall. He gripped the front of Cedric's robes in his hand and tugged.
"We are not finished." Teddy was shaking with pent-up nerves as he looked
Cedric straight in the eye. "I did know you, but not you. I said I lied because
I didn't tell you the whole truth. You weren't flesh and blood, you were a
bloody portrait! I know you know which one I'm talking about, because you would
have sat for it only recently."
"Easter," Cedric whispered, his eyes wide.
Teddy nodded. "Everyone knows you in the future, Cedric. Hufflepuff house
practically worships you. Your portrait is in our common room, 'Remember Cedric
Diggory'! Professor Dumbledore laid a charge on the entire wizarding world with
his eulogy to you – did you want me to recite it? You're a fucking legend, and
we're all a little bit in love with you for it."
Cedric swallowed visibly. "I don't believe you," he said, his voice a hoarse
rasp.
"I'm sorry. I wish it weren't true. I wish I could tell you a different future,
but that's why I came back, why I'm here today. When I went home, everything
was different. Voldemort"—Cedric winced—"had won, Harry was dead - everyone was
dead. Gryffindor tower was destroyed – there was no Gryffindor house anymore –
and no more Muggleborn wizards. The death eaters ran the wizarding world. It
was a nightmare, and it was my fault! I did something, changed something
accidentally when I was here. That's why I had to come back. I can never go
home, because I no longer have a home to go to!"
Teddy gasped and staggered back under the weight of his words, releasing Cedric
and turning away. It had been one thing to know this, another to admit it out
loud. And Cedric was accusing him of being petty?
"It's not about the tournament, you arse. Voldemort comes back tomorrow. Oh!"
He spun around and pointed at Cedric, stabbing his finger in the air. "The
Quidditch World Cup – I remember. There was a dark mark in the sky at the Cup!
Damn it, you know I'm telling the truth, Cedric."
"What happens to Harry," Cedric asked, his voice quiet.
"Voldemort kills you, well, Wormtail does. Peter Pettigrew. Heard of him, have
you? I thought so. A killing curse. You haven't any chance, I'm sorry. They use
Harry's blood to create a new body for Voldemort. He's never really been gone,
you know.
"But Harry gets away, he escapes, fights his way out, and only because he's a
lucky bastard. There's a proph—" Teddy waved his hand in dismissal. "He told me
– last Christmas he finally told me everything. He wouldn't talk about it,
ever. I had to beg him to tell me. That's how bad it was for him. He's always
blamed himself for your death.
"Harry gets away, brings your dead body back to your parents." He glared at
Cedric, his chest heaving. "There's a reason the Room brought me back here
today. I know it. I won't let you die."
"But—"
"There are no buts. We can't go to Dumbledore. It has to happen the way I told
you. Harry has to touch that damned Portkey."
"But if we know where V—You-Know-Who is, we can stop him before he comes back."
Teddy shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. We could end up making things
worse. I told you, he was never really gone. He just needed a body."
"Maybe we could make it better."
"Are you willing to take that risk? There are things I know. I don't know
everything, but I know a lot about what's supposed to happen. If we change
this, then everything reverts to chaos. I might even disappear, erase my entire
existence. I'd risk that for myself, but I won't risk everyone else's lives
along with mine. Don't you see? It has to be this way."
"I won't let Harry go alone. He's just a kid."
"Then you'll die."
"Maybe not. Not now that I know what's coming."
"Cedric," Teddy said, pleading.
"Thank you." Cedric smiled sadly. "I'm glad you're here. I missed you."
Teddy watched him go, and stared at the door long after it closed behind him.
This was the second time in twenty-four hours that he'd watched him walk away
like that.
He threw himself onto the bed, not bothering to remove his jeans, and tried to
sleep. There wasn't anything more he could do. It was up to Cedric to save his
own life. Or not.
***** Chapter 8: from the ashes *****
Chapter 8: from the ashes
He slept late, having finally drifted off in the early hour before dawn, snuck
down to the kitchens for brunch, and spent most of the day out on the grounds
down by the lake. The weather was warm this late in June, and it felt good to
be outside again. He'd been cooped up too long.
If he was going to stay, he was going to have to make his presence known to a
few people. He'd have to see his father again, and he was looking forward to
meeting Sirius. Dumbledore would have to know as well, but not yet. And Cedric
knew, of course. Four people. In years to come, things might change, but for
now that would be enough.
He looked at the map. Cedric was with his parents near the Trophy Room. He felt
a twinge of satisfaction to see that Cho wasn't with them. He didn't wish her
ill, it was just…
It was just that he still had certain feelings for Cedric, and why shouldn't
he? Cedric had said he missed him. That was hopeful. And if he survived, who
knew what the future would bring.
He pulled up a blade of grass and chewed on the end. If. It wouldn't do to
think about that. It promised to be a long day and an even longer night. There
were clusters of students out on the grounds enjoying the day, but they ignored
him. He purposely sat near the forest on the edge of the lake, a place few
students ever came. He looked out onto the lake where the Durmstrang ship was
moored. It was strange to see such a huge ship here.
A trickle of sweat ran down the back of his neck, and he shortened his hair in
irritation. He'd grow it back out later. He wiped the map blank and stowed it
in his pocket, lay back on the grass and closed his eyes. A nice kip wouldn't
be amiss.
He awoke to the sound of low voices off to his right. He squinted up into the
sun. Late afternoon, likely, though the sun wouldn't set until near on ten
o'clock tonight. He sat up on his elbows and looked around. A boy and a man
were sitting by the lake, just on the other side of a large beech tree, having
what looked to be a serious conversation. He watched them for a few minutes
before realising with a shock that it was Harry and Sirius Black. Sirius, out
in the open, dressed in jeans and t-shirt no less! Sirius stood up and looked
around, and Teddy quickly ducked back down. A moment later, a large black dog
was tackling Harry, who shrieked with laughter.
Laugh all you can, Harry, he thought grimly, thinking about what the evening
would bring. He wished…. Best not think about that either. It had to happen and
that was that, though it made him feel uncomfortably ruthless. But what was
Sirius doing out in plain sight like this? It was dangerous for him, especially
with so many ministry officials milling about the grounds today. He considered
walking over in their direction, but decided against it. He knew history said
that Sirius would not be captured at Hogwarts, and it was still a year before
his death. Let them enjoy this time together; he would not intrude.
His stomach rumbled, and he rose, lengthened his hair just past his shoulders
and headed back up the hill. The house-elves were preparing a feast tonight and
they'd have plenty of food for him to nick.
**
Teddy waited by the entrance to the Quidditch stands. He'd snuck down before
the crowds and was watching for Sirius Black. He'd seen him on the map having
dinner at the Gryffindor table with Harry and Bill and Molly Weasley. He'd run
into Bill earlier and had stared in shock at his scarless face. He was used to
the scars, of course, but seeing him without them had been quite a jolt. He'd
been a very handsome man in his youth. He'd had to cover a grin when Molly had
approached him and started nagging him about a haircut. She still did that, and
his amusement had been followed by a wave of homesickness.
He'd never be able to go back to his own time. Not only that, but his very
existence was at risk. He wondered what would happen if the future changed so
much that his future self never went back in time in the first place. Paradox.
He had many years before that would be an issue, so he put it from his mind.
There were more important things he needed to do tonight.
The four champions were headed his way, accompanied by ministry officials. A
few of the teachers had already gone past, including Hagrid, and were milling
about in front of the maze. He made eye contact with Cedric as he passed, and
Cedric's eyes widened slightly. His lip quirked and he gave a curt nod of
acknowledgment, and continued on with the others.
Teddy sighed and clenched his fists, and offered a quick prayer up to Harry's
parents, asking them to see him safe. See both of them safe.
He was worried. In his own history, Sirius Black had been a fugitive, cleared
of his crimes posthumously. Something had gone wrong. Dumbledore's portrait,
which was on the same timeline as the events happening now, had said that
Wormtail had escaped, that his father had kept his promise. But something had
changed because Sirius was free, and he knew with a certainty that his freedom
was part of the chain of events which altered the future. It was his fault.
He couldn't do anything about it now, and seeing earlier how happy his presence
made Harry, he couldn't begrudge Sirius even one minute of his freedom. But
Teddy needed to talk to him, and somehow make sure nothing went wrong tonight.
He saw him, walking with Bill and Molly, Bill acting as buffer between two
quarrelling parties. Passing students glanced at him with both fear and awe,
and seemed to give him a wide berth as they hurried past; apparently the past
wasn't so easily forgotten. He saw Sirius throw up his hands and stalk off
ahead while Molly stared after him, biting her lip. Bill had a hand on his
shoulder and was talking to her.
Sirius was scowling when he reached the entrance, and again, students stepped
quickly around him. Teddy reached out of the shadows to tap him on the shoulder
and Sirius snarled at him.
"What!"
"Sirius, you don't know me, but I need to talk to you. It's important."
"Sorry kid, I don't have time right now. I'm busy."
Teddy rolled his eyes. "You'll make time. Padfoot."
Sirius started at the use of his nickname and narrowed his eyes, stepping
closer, away from the throng. "Where did you hear that name?"
"That's part of what I have to talk to you about. Will you sit with me?"
"Who the hell are you?"
"My name is Teddy." Sirius showed no sign of recognition at the name.
"Sorry, I don't know you."
"But you know my father."
"Yeah? Who's that?"
Teddy glanced around, but nobody was paying any attention as they were too busy
filing into the stands. He relaxed his features, his face changing swiftly back
to his own and his hair turning lighter in colour. Sirius' eyes widened as he
watched.
"Remus Lupin," Teddy said.
Sirius eyed him warily. "You have his eyes, but you're too old to be Remus'
son."
"Not if I haven't been born yet," Teddy said. "Please. My father does know me.
We met a year ago. And I can prove who I am." He reached into his pocket and
showed Sirius the blank map.
"Where'd you get that?" Sirius asked sharply, recognizing it at once. "Moody
has it!"
"Moody? But he's—" He caught himself and cleared his throat. "Moody has this
era's map then. This one's mine. My godfather gave it to me."
"And just who would that be?"
"Harry Potter."
"Bloody hell," Sirius said, and laughed.
**
It was strange sitting in the stands, being a part of history like this. Bill
and Molly had gone to sit with the other Weasley children, and Teddy found
himself looking over his shoulder at them frequently. Especially at the twins
whom he discovered he couldn't tell apart. Not at a distance anyway. Seeing
them together, the way they moved as one entity, always together, it struck him
how much George must have lost by his twin's death. The more he watched them,
the more he realised that he couldn't think of Fred as anything but 'another
George'. Strange indeed.
He turned back to regard the man next to him. Sirius Black: his father's best
friend, Harry's father's best friend, Harry's godfather. His mum's cousin, too,
as well as his Gran's. He knew how he felt toward Harry and wondered if Harry
regarded Sirius the same way. He must, he thought, remembering the scene by the
lake earlier today. Sirius was thin, too thin, and his eyes…. They changed from
minute to minute, heartbeat to heartbeat, a range of emotion rippling in their
depths.
He could tell that the crowd bothered him, and of course it would – so many
years of solitude had changed him, and he was jumpy and impatient. Teddy was
jumpy and impatient, too, but for very different reasons. He was filled with a
kind of numb dread, and the noise from the crowd was like a distant rumble. It
had been a half hour since the four had entered the maze. He could see
Professor Dumbledore below him, calm but obviously troubled. Red sparks had
blossomed high above the hedges twice, the second time only a few minutes ago –
they were still visible, a beacon – and each time the crowd reacted with a
mixture of fear and excitement.
"It's not Harry," Sirius had said both times, repeating it as if to convince
himself. And both times he'd glanced at Teddy for confirmation. Teddy had
looked away, not wanting to meet his eye. Perhaps he'd take that as a sign that
it was Harry after all.
He'd told Sirius how he'd travelled in time by accident, how he'd met Remus,
briefly, and instead of returning home, he'd ended up here. It was technically
true, because he hadn't returned home at all; that false dystopian future
certainly hadn't been his home. He wasn't quite sure at first why he'd sought
Sirius out now. There was plenty of time to become acquainted with him
tomorrow, even after the events of tonight played out, but as the evening wore
on and his fingers ached from clenching them so tightly, his palms stinging in
crescent-shaped patterns, he knew.
There wasn't anyone else he could turn to for solace. His father was miles away
and could not be here, his own godfather was light years and multiple realities
away, separated from him by a distance even greater than death. So instead, he
turned to the presence of this man because those Teddy loved most had loved
Sirius. It was a tenuous connection at best, but it was the only comfort he
could find this night. He was afraid, and he did not want to be alone.
A hand pressed down on his knee and squeezed. Teddy looked up sharply and
Sirius was looking at him with annoyance.
"Would you quit bouncing your bloody leg? You're driving me mad. Merlin's left
nut, your father used to do that when we were kids. You couldn't sit next to
him when you ate – the bastard'd bounce your pudding off its spoon."
Teddy smiled despite himself and Sirius' lip twitched. "Fond memories?" he
asked.
Sirius smiled and shook his head. "The best."
Teddy nodded and turned to look at the endless rolling green of the maze. The
second burst of red sparks had dissipated, which meant a teacher had found
whoever had called for help. He looked at his watch. Forty-five minutes. Fuck.
Sirius' hand clamped down on his knee again. It was going to be a long night.
**
Professor McGonagall emerged from the maze, supporting a tearful Fleur.
Everyone stood to watch, gasping and pointing. As soon as he saw it wasn't
Harry, Sirius sighed with relief and sat down again, tapping his thigh with his
thumb. Teddy looked pointedly at the source of the drumming, but if Sirius
noticed, he gave no sign. Teddy snorted and turned back to the scene below.
Fleur was upset, but she was also angry. She stormed over to a man with a goat-
like beard and started screaming at him in French, pointing and gesticulating.
A very large woman came over to Fleur, standing behind her protectively. A few
minutes later, Professor Moody came stumping out of the maze, escorting a dazed
Viktor Krum. Fleur turned at the loud reaction from the crowd and tried to run
at him, her face murderous, but the woman held her back. Viktor looked as
though he'd been confounded and he sat down heavily, his head in his hands, the
goat-bearded man looking upset and fawning over him.
"C'mon kid," Sirius said, nudging Teddy's shoulder and leaning over, his long
hair tickling Teddy's ear. "You can tell me. Does he win?"
Teddy said nothing, but he could feel Sirius' enthusiasm; two competitors out
and not a hint of red sparks from the pitch. Teddy knew Sirius was worried for
Harry, but it was a matter of pride, not fear for his safety. When Sirius had
seen Teddy's name on the map, his entire demeanour had changed. His shoulders
had lifted, and his eyes had brightened considerably. He'd clapped Teddy on the
shoulder, laughing, and had dragged him off to find front row seats.
Sirius wasn't completely reckless, though. Teddy's presence alone had assured
him that Harry would survive. Of course he was completely unaware of the real
danger Harry faced. Giant man-eating spiders were child's play in comparison.
Teddy was convinced that if he'd had so much as an inkling beforehand what
Harry would face tonight, he would never have allowed him to participate,
binding magical contract and blood protection magic be damned.
Sirius nudged him again. "Killjoy."
Teddy was about to reply when a loud cry resounded from below. Cedric – his
robes torn, his face scratched and bleeding, had come running, half-limping,
onto the pitch and had nearly collapsed at Dumbledore's feet.
He hadn't exited from the maze, but instead had come from the school grounds.
The murmur of the crowd was a dull roar in Teddy's ears, and Sirius had jumped
to his feet beside him. It was instinct because he certainly hadn't told his
body to move. He was running for the ladder—Sirius hot on his heels—pushing
people out of his way, not bothering with the nuisance of climbing, and sliding
down the poles instead.
Cedric was standing unassisted, talking to Dumbledore and gesticulating wildly
when Teddy ran onto the pitch. Moody had stumped over beside them and there was
a twisted smirk on his face. Then Dumbledore was moving, Moody at his heels,
Cedric jogging alongside, still explaining, impatiently brushing his parents'
concerned touches from his shoulders.
Dumbledore shouted something Teddy couldn't hear, and immediately a man—Merlin!
That was Severus Snape! Snape stood impassively, listening as Cedric continued
to speak. Teddy pushed his way through the crowd milling at the entrance, never
taking his eyes from Cedric, ignoring everyone and everything around him.
There was a blinding flash of light, and Harry Potter fell from the sky
clutching a large golden cup.
**
It was four-o'clock in the morning when he finally descended the spiral
stairway from the headmaster's office, out into the seventh floor corridor
which led to the Room of Requirement. He was exhausted. He would sleep first
and leave later in the afternoon, meet up with Sirius outside of Hogsmeade, and
together they would Apparate to his father's cottage. The students would be
going home for summer holidays in a few days anyway, so there wasn't much point
in staying; The fewer people who saw him, the better. He'd owl Cedric, make
sure he was okay, and perhaps they'd see each other sometime. It was enough to
know that he was alive, that Harry was alive.
He was still a bit cross with Cedric, not for any reason except that he'd been
a stubborn, heroic, noble arse. The bastard had gone with Harry, even knowing
the dangers, just to reassure him, build his confidence, and then he'd escaped
by Apparating away before Wormtail's killing curse could find him. By the time
he'd managed to get back to the pitch and explain, however, Harry had returned
on his own. Sirius had been livid, and he'd shouted long and hard at Teddy for
not preventing the incident in the first place. It had been Dumbledore, hours
later, who'd finally talked sense into Sirius, and he'd apologised, albeit
grudgingly.
Moody—Barty Crouch, Jr., had been revealed, though Teddy'd had to intervene. He
wondered a bit at that because it was one more thing that had changed from the
original history. He thought back to Harry's story from last Christmas.
"Moody took me back to his office. I was in shock, bleeding, and of course I
trusted him…
Ah. Harry had been alone because Sirius hadn't been there the last time. He
sighed and rubbed his eyes. One more tiny little ripple. Crouch was in the
custody of the Dementors now, and little more than an empty, breathing shell.
He shuddered, glad he hadn't been there to see the Kiss, though at least
Minister Fudge had been consistent and just as incompetent as the books said.
He thought of Sirius again, a free man and cleared of all charges – he'd
learned that the Wizengamot had wisely dropped the remaining charges dealing
with his escape and unregistered Animagus status. That hadn't happened the last
time around, and that, it seemed, was the key, the catalyst that started it
all.
He supposed he'd never know exactly what he'd changed; what had happened on
that full moon night a year ago in this timeline that hadn't occurred the first
time around, nor what would have happened had he not been here tonight. Would
Crouch have continued his charade and gone free, the real Moody a prisoner
until he died? Was that what caused Voldemort to win?
The important thing, what really mattered was that Wormtail had been free to
complete his task earlier this evening, and as a result, the blood protection
Harry needed was intact.
And Cedric was alive.
He still couldn't believe it, and found himself repeating it over and over, as
if the words were what made it so.
Perhaps this meant Sirius didn't have to die, either. Or his parents. He didn't
know. He didn't even know if he'd vanish himself one day, if he'd be walking
down a street somewhere and suddenly cease to exist. There were too many
unknowns along with the known. He'd keep his own counsel, remembering future
Dumbledore's warning to him, and his charge, listening, until he saw how the
patterns of this new altered future dispersed and settled themselves. It could
wait; he was far too weary right now to think any more about it.
There was a dark mound huddled against the wall on the floor ahead of him, and
he approached cautiously, slowing his steps and fingering his wand in his
pocket. As he drew closer, the mound erupted and Teddy pulled his wand from his
pocket, pointing it at the dark shadow.
"It's me," Cedric said softly. "I've been waiting for hours. I didn't know if
you'd be coming back. I hoped…"
Teddy relaxed and returned his wand to his pocket. "What are you doing here,"
Teddy asked, his shoulders slumping.
Cedric didn't reply, he simply stepped forward, lifted Teddy's chin with his
forefinger and kissed him softly.
Teddy grinned beneath Cedric's lips. "You're such a girl," he teased, and felt
Cedric's answering grin.
"You're the one who can grow tits."
"My cock's bigger."
"Only because you cheat."
"What about Cho?"
Cedric shrugged. "We broke up."
"Oh." Teddy turned away then and paced the corridor, calling the Room. His
room. Their room. When it appeared, he opened the door and stepped inside,
glancing over his shoulder.
"Coming?"

-fin-
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