
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/504327.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Teddy_Lupin/Rose_Weasley, Scorpius_Malfoy/Rose_Weasley
  Character:
      Teddy_Lupin, Rose_Weasley, Scorpius_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Harry_Potter_Next_Generation, One_Shot, Community:
      nextgendarkfest, Dark_Fic_Fest
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-09-04 Words: 1660
****** Ashes ******
by magicknickers
Summary
     It starts, as this sort of thing usually does, with a kiss.
Notes
     Written for the NextGen Darkfest with the following prompt - She
     loves the way they thrash when she holds her palm over their noses
     and mouths. Beta'd by my lovely little sister, but all mistakes are
     my own. And obviously this is all Rowling's.
She asks him on a Sunday.
They're outside, just behind the line of trees that disguises them from the
Potters' house, Rosie on the swing that hangs from the largest willow here,
Teddy sprawled out on the ground next to her. She's unmoving, eyes staring out
into some distant point that Teddy can't see but wishes he could, both of her
feet planted solidly on the ground beneath them. He wraps his fingers around
her ankle, tugging gently.
“Rosie,” he whispers when she doesn't look down at him. She gets so lost in
these moods sometimes, always looking as if her life is a tragedy. “Rosie, you
all right?”
Sniffling, she finally looks at him, dark eyes wide and tear-filled.
“Scorpius broke up with me last week,” she mumbles, looking so sad that he
can't help but feel sad, as well. “Said he didn't want to be tied down for his
last year at school.”
“I'm sorry,” he says, and a part of him feels guilty because he isn't sorry at
all. She shrugs, looking away from him.
“It's not your fault,” she says, the tears finally spilling. She cries
silently—no undignified sobbing or snotting for Rose Weasley—the hitch in her
breathing the only evidence of change.
“Am I the only one you've told?” Teddy asks, fingers still wrapped around her
ankle. Her skin is hot underneath his palm, fair and freckled from the sun. He
doesn't know why he's asked that, but the question lingers in the air for so
long that he knows that he is.
“Yeah,” she answers, wiping a tear off of her cheek with the back of her hand.
“I should probably tell Dom soon. She'd get mad if she found out from somebody
else, and Louis is a terrible gossip.”
“Worse than a girl,” Teddy says, hand still on Rosie's ankle. She cracks a
little smile at that, but doesn't say anything.
“Is there anything I can—I dunno. Anything that I can do? To make you feel
better?” Immediately after the words leave his mouth he feels like a complete
and utter prat. What the hell can he do about it? She and her non-violent
sentiments would hate him if he kicked the shit out of Malfoy.
She's silent for so long that Teddy feels compelled to say something.
“I'm sorry, Rosie. I'm being a—“
“Actually,” she interrupts, voice very soft. “There is something.”
“Anything,” he says, rubbing his thumb along the bone in her ankle. Her skin is
like silk underneath the pads of his fingers.
“Scorpius and I—well, we never—we never did, er, that.” His finger stills, eyes
nearly bulging out of his head at the implication of that statement. Trying his
best to remain calm and not jump to any conclusions, Teddy lets go of her
ankle.
“What do you mean by 'that'?” he asks her, sitting up on the ground to better
see her face. There's dirt in his hair, he's sure, but he doesn't particularly
care right now.
“Sex,” she whispers. “We never had sex.”
“And you want me to—to have sex with you?”
“Merlin. Never mind, I'm an idiot,” she says, standing up very suddenly. Her
dark hair is pulled into a messy plait down her back, and her sundress—floaty
and lavender in colour like something a fey creature would wear—is nearly see-
through in this lighting.
“Yes,” Teddy tells her, grabbing that ankle once more. Her skin is hotter than
before, and the vague thought that she'll burn him rises up.
“Oh, well. All right.” She grins at him, the first grin he's seen on her face
in days.
“Rosie,” he starts, running that hand up the inside of her calf. “Why me? Why
now?”
“I've had a crush on you since I was born, practically,” she whispers, the
scarlet stain of a blush crawling up her face.
James calls his name, then, and they make their way back to the house in
silence. There is something blooming in his chest, though, and he smiles the
whole walk back.
*
He doesn't know what exactly has changed, but when Teddy steps into the
Weasleys' house the next Saturday, the urge to turn tail and run is strong.
Blame it on the nearby full moon, but he feels decidedly on edge. Teddy can't
shake the thought that he's committing some grave and unforgivably sin against
the Weasleys by deflowering their only daughter.
“Would you like some tea?” Rosie calls out, already halfway to the kitchen. “I
just put the kettle on. Should be ready in a minute.”
“Sure,” he says, shutting the door behind him. After a moment of standing
rather awkwardly in front of the door, Teddy follows Rose's path into the
kitchen.
“Three sugars, right?” she asks him, smiling. Silently, he nods. He likes
things to be sweet, almost to the point of hurting his teeth.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Rosie?” Teddy asks her, perching
uncomfortably on the edge of the counter top. His eyes are darting around the
room nervously, hair turning mousy brown almost against his will. Sometimes
it's as if he has no control over his appearance at all.
“Mum and Dad left for America yesterday, and Hugo's at the Potters' for the
week. Said he liked Al better than me, the little git. Not that I haven't told
you this already,” she answers with a little smile, gently setting a mug that's
meant for thicker drinks on the counter space next to him.
“I—I'm not sure that—” Teddy starts, eyes darting towards the door.
“Do you not want to do this?” Rose whispers, taking a step back.
“Because—because if you don't, I'll just find somebody else. Don't
feelobligated, Teddy.”
“No, Rosie! I want to, I'm just. I don't know,” Teddy quickly tells her,
grabbing her hand in his own. Her hair's loose today, surrounding her face in a
halo of dark curls, and she's wearing the skimpiest nightgown Teddy has ever
had the pleasure of seeing on her.
“If you're sure,” she murmurs, sitting on the counter next to him. There's
something odd about this arrangement, but he still nods his agreement.
That dark, nervous feeling lingers in the pit of his stomach, though, and Teddy
wishes to God that he'd thought this through.
*
It starts, as this sort of thing usually does, with a kiss.
They're sitting on her bed, Rosie above and around him like he's wanted her to
be for longer than he can properly comprehend. She'd always been too young—she
was thirteen when it started for him—and he hadn't felt right about his
feelings until now.
Her tongue is in his mouth and his hands are on her skin, one playing at the
soft skin of her belly, the other crawling up her thigh. She's as perfect as
he'd always thought she'd be.
He's already harder than he'd ever been for Victoire, and when she grinds down
on him—how far had she gotten with Scorpius?—Teddy can't stop from moaning.
“Close your eyes,” Rosie whispers, leaning down to kiss his neck. He does so
without question, his fingers finally reaching her cunt. That feeling that she
will burn him is there again, and her flesh is so slick beneath her knickers
that Teddy thinks he must be dying.
“Can I try something?” she asks, and he nods before she's even finished asking,
all former apprehension disappearing. Merlin, she could try anything right now
and he'd probably like it.
When she whispers a spell that forces Teddy's hands up, over his head and ties
them to the headboard, he isn't as sure.
“Why—” he starts, another kiss interrupting him.
“Don't worry,” Rose murmurs, hands roaming his chest and hips grinding down on
him again. He moans again.
Her fingers are making their way up his neck now, stroking the skin of his
face, and he's suddenly profoundly uncomfortable with the situation.
“Rose,” he manages, voice soft, cajoling. “I want to touch you.” She giggles
like a little girl, pressing a hand over his lips to quiet him.
“I'm sure you do,” she says darkly, the other hand pressing over his mouth now.
Her skin is so hot over his face that he must be burning, her fingers like
tongues of fire on his face.
Rose, he tries again, but he can't even breathe, his nose covered under her
palm. Teddy finally opens his eyes, tries to shake her off, tries to tell her—
“Fight me, Teddy,” she tells him, pressing down harder. “It's more fun like
that. You should've seen Scorpius, flailing around like a fish out of water.
You're much bigger than him, though. I didn't have to tie him up.”
He's thrashing underneath her now, trying to buck her off of him, his legs
kicking out, searching for purchase on anything. Terror is curling in his
throat and he wants to scream and shout and sob with it.
She smiles down at him, pretty as she always is, and the blackness overtakes
him.
*
“The second body this month,” Ron sighs, a thoroughly exhausted expression on
his face.
“Any leads?” Hermione asks him, feeling so, so cold. This should've ended with
Voldemort.
Harry’s completely inconsolable—it's even worse than when Sirius died. He's
locked up in Grimmauld Place by himself, not even Ginny able to get through to
him. The grief must be overwhelming, Hermione knows, and Harry’s always had
that way of wrapping himself up in sadness until it nearly kills him.
Rose is almost as bad, having locked herself in her room the moment she heard
the news of Teddy's death. Hermione dreads telling her about Scorpius, but it
must be done sooner or later.
“Not a single one,” Ron says, resting both hands on the table.
There's a note of finality to that statement, Hermione thinks, and she gets the
horrible sense that this case won't ever be solved.
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