Salt and Pepper Fest: like the lost lyrics of a song suddenly remembered (Teddy; NC-17)

[hpgoldenage_mod]

Title: like the lost lyrics of a song suddenly remembered
Author: lq_traintracks
Characters/Pairings: Teddy Lupin; Teddy/Bill, (future Teddy/James Sirius, background Bill/Fleur and Harry/Draco)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~11,000
Content/Warning(s): open relationship (between Bill and Fleur), mentions of drug use and drinking (and quitting), pining, knotting; (there's some Bill/Teddy when Teddy is 17; also, there's metamorphmagus ~stuff)
Prompt: He can't explain it, but the full moon has always driven him wild. Lucky for him, Bill seems to get it ― possibly a little too well.
Summary: Teddy Lupin, aging rockstar, is making a comeback after his life and career were nearly ruined by an illegal potions habit. Everyone's out to support him tonight. Including the man he's always tried so hard not to love -- as well as the man he's always turned to instead.
A/N: Huge thank you to my absolutely brilliant betas, B and S! <3 I don't think this qualifies as actual song!fic, but… it's still all about the music. I figured since HP was a product of earlier times, my own aged musical taste could be justified here as well. Thank you, prompter, for the wonderful inspiration for this! I adored getting to write this Teddy so much. And mods, thank you so so much for running this amazing fest again. It's always a joy to participate!

Read at AO3 or below:



Teddy sips his whiskey at the bar, popping his aching neck. Some old Stone Temple Pilots plays softly over the speakers, the volume incongruous with the grind of the guitar, and Teddy remembers he did this one once. Long time ago. He was playing Brussels maybe. Or Oslo? He was drunk. He's sure of that. Anymore he only drinks when the moon's close to full.

Teddy takes another sip, draining the glass, and signals the bartender for a new one.

"Should have a full crowd tonight, Mr Lupin," the man behind the bar says.

Teddy nods noncommittally, but the barman smiles. "It's good to have you back around these parts."

Teddy tries to pay him. Again. But the man shakes his head. "On the house."

Teddy slides Galleons across the bar regardless, sighing as he sits back again, swirling the smoky liquor around the glass.

A throat clears in his vicinity. "M-may I have your…" The young woman swallows, her eyes wide as Teddy turns to her with a small smile.

"Sure," he says. He takes her parchment and quill. "What's your name?"

Her voice quavers. "Sandra."

She's got to be twenty-two, twenty-three. Same age as Rose's oldest, he thinks. He can't imagine his appeal to her. He feels creaky, abused by his years suffering for his art. Surely she'd be more into… Merlin, who's big nowadays in the wizarding world? They've taken a lot to Muggle stuff over the last twenty years, and what had once been a fad is now simply how things are.

Teddy signs, leaving her a personalised note thanking her for coming to one of his shows. She looks faint at reading it when he hands it back. "Thank you so much, Mr Lupin!"

"Teddy."

She breathes it: "Teddy…"

"Sure," he says again and is turning back to the bar when he sees the door open and a familiar face peering in.

Teddy smiles when his godfather and Draco, close on his heels, see him. Recognition transforming his features, Harry's face shines with happiness. He looks good for his age, his wild hair half-silver, skin a bit weathered, scars having multiplied over the course of his Auror career, now over. But Draco looks even better, and the only age on his face is a collection of laugh lines.

"Harry," Teddy says, sliding off his barstool and drawing him into a fierce hug. Harry's arms are still strong, deceptively so, and as he squeezes Teddy's body tight, he presses a hard kiss into his hair as well. "Draco," Teddy says when Harry releases him, and they share a gentler embrace, Draco smelling of citrus as usual.

"Thanks for coming," Teddy says. "I didn't know if you'd make it. It's late for you two."

"Bugger off." Harry smiles.

"Buy you a drink?" Teddy offers.

But Draco's already got his own Galleons out, and he's buying them all a round, wine for himself and Firewhiskies for Harry and Teddy.

"Who else is coming?" Teddy asks, leaning against the bar.

Harry shrugs. "Probably a lot of us. Scorpius, right?" He looks at Draco for confirmation, and Draco frowns at his watch.

"Should do."

"Lily can't get away from Hogwarts, unfortunately. Al will be very late, as is his wont." Harry rolls his eyes.

"An Unspeakable's job is never done," Draco says pseudo-sagely.

"James?" Teddy asks, trying to disguise the fact that he holds his breath after.

Harry smiles softly. He squeezes Teddy's arm. "Wouldn't miss it."

Teddy exhales and takes a swallow of burning whiskey, letting it calm the fire that feels like it's always in him, ready to rise up and consume everything.

"Speaking of everyone showing up, though," says Draco. "We ought to get good seats while there are still spots left, Potter."

Teddy can't help the smile that they still have this bit going, this 'Potter' and 'Malfoy' business, after decades of marriage. Draco's looking around himself now with a hint of anxiety, even as Harry places a knowing hand on his back with a quiet, "Yes, dear."

Teddy remembers Draco's dodgy Quidditch hip, shattered by a Bludger that forced him into retirement in his mid-fifties even though he'd still been on the top of his game. Merlin, he'd probably been around the same age Teddy is now. He takes a deep breath at the thought. It's been a long bloody time since he's felt like that cocky little arsehole that used to grace the cover of Witch Weekly with embarrassing frequency. But he likes to think he's aged gracefully. Somewhat gracefully. The moons have taken their toll of course. And he could modify himself to look younger if he wanted to. But he rather feels he's earned the sharp streak of silver cutting through his blue-black hair. The leather he wears now doesn't cling seductively to his body. He can't be bothered to be that uncomfortable honestly. But he still wears it, looser, battered. He still wears the thready black jeans. The heavy boots. He's not so thick with the eyeliner, though there's still a trace.

A flash from the wall by the bar has him glancing at one of those Witch Weekly covers, framed and glinting. He watches himself shift in the photo, guitar slung around his back, his hips jutting forward, arrogantly showing off his package as he flicks longer hair out of his face, his bare, tattooed arms sinewy, thumbs hanging in his belt loops. Teddy gives a soft laugh and turns back to his godfather's husband.

Draco's not using his cane tonight. Teddy can just hear the argument that must have ensued between them regarding his vanity. Draco will end the night clutching onto Harry's arm to make it out the door. Not that Harry likely minds that part.

"Here," Teddy says, drawing his wand. "I Disillusioned some seats for you." He gives a flick and reveals the burnished gold sofa against the far wall, empty and waiting.

Draco's breath leaves him, and he's instantly more relaxed. Harry turns twinkling eyes on Teddy and mouths, 'Thank you.'

Teddy gives a little shake to his head. "It's nothing."

"So, you'll start…?" Harry asks.

Teddy shrugs. "Five minutes? Give or take?"

Draco's gazing longingly at the sofa, but Harry hangs back one more moment, taking Teddy's hand and giving it a squeeze. "I'm so… I don't know if I've told you lately…"

"You only tell me every week in your Owl." Teddy smiles at him, his chest aching a little. He wishes Harry wouldn't. It only points out all the hollow places inside him that Teddy can't fill with other people's kindnesses.

But Harry can't be stopped. He never can. "I'm so bloody proud of you."

Teddy says, "I know," and quells the emotion crowding up behind his eyes. "Go sit. Draco's miserable, look at him."

And Draco is rubbing his hip with a shaking hand now, so Harry heeds the warning, giving Teddy one last pat on the arm. "Knock 'em dead," he says. "AK us all."

Teddy gives a snort and turns back to the bar to sip at his whiskey. The room has filled with people milling around, talking excitedly, and Teddy takes his drink to the small stage, only two steps above the temporarily empty dancefloor in front of it. He sips and then sets his glass down on the floor, picking up his guitar and running his hands over it, doing a quick diagnostic on its tuning. It always works better with his bare hands than his wand, and his fingers brush the strings, caressing them. He closes his eyes, blanking out the noise of the increasing crowd. He senses his drummer, Dacia Zabini, getting seated… hears the sticks knocking against each other before she gives them experimental thumps on the drums themselves. But he zeroes in on his own instrument and his connection to it, listening with the throbbing dark light behind his diaphragm more than with his ears or his mind.

He finishes, leaning the guitar against the stool they've placed for him. He steps up onto the stage and taps the mic with his wand. Someone hollers from the back of the club between cupped hands, and Teddy allows himself a little smile in that direction. Someone whistles. The air feels alight with everyone's magic, and Teddy lets it merge just a little with his own, rubbing against it pleasurably. He leans down for his whiskey and takes another sip, clearing his throat as his bassist saunters up. Teddy turns and murmurs to him, and Raoul nods, drawing his wand and conjuring a piano off to the side. Teddy gives a whistle, and Karlene the Careless -- one of the ghosts that haunted his gran's home and who would often wake the household playing the piano in the middle of the night until Andromeda finally charmed the fallboard closed -- drifts through the back wall, rheumy eyes lighting up at the sight of the upright waiting for her.

He's lifting the strap over his head to settle his guitar against his body when James Sirius Potter opens the door of the bar and steps inside. Their eyes meet instantly, since Teddy, at this point, is awfully difficult to miss. Teddy watches James exhale, his lips curving up in a hesitant smile. Teddy swallows, his stomach giving an uneasy flip, and he gives a nod in greeting. When James's smile widens at him, Teddy feels Imperio'd to return it. This has always been the case with James. Teddy's eternal weakness.

He sees that James is alone and feels a skittering of relief, not wanting to face the old tug in his gut every time he's had to watch James wrap his arm around someone else. Kiss someone else.

Marry someone else.

James's gaze dances away, and he's clearly looking for people he knows. He finds Christine Longbottom at the bar, gives her cheek a kiss, and Teddy forces his eyes away from watching James's every move. He pushes the stool back, not intending on sitting for most of the set.

Teddy leans into the mic and rumbles out a, "How's everybody doing tonight?"

Applause and cheers go up around the cramped room, and the lights change, dimming a bit around the periphery and shining ambient warmth on the stage itself.

"I'm Teddy Lupin," he says and then pauses for some whistling. He gives a short laugh. "It's been a long time since I've played anywhere. You probably know that." He clears his throat. "I took some, uh… time off."

There's a bit of an uncomfortable round of soft laughter, still warm. It was all over the papers after all: Teddy's descent into illegal potions, the wreck his life became, his disappearance, only resurfacing to be shown stumbling down the pavement with three drunk birds under his arms and a bottle swinging from his fingers, or slinking out of a bloke's house at the crack of dawn only wearing one shoe… that sort of thing. Everybody knows.

Teddy glances at Harry once to feel the calm encouragement he exudes, his arm slung around Draco's body, his husband's head leaned against him.

Teddy drops his gaze and adjusts the way the guitar sits against him. "But I'm back."

The room goes wild with applause at that, and he can't help but peek up shyly and smile into the crowd. He's always a bit shy when it's just talking. He needs the actual music in order to let go, to become the person he is when he's inside the sound and it's inside of him.

"So what do you say to a little rock and roll?" he asks.

As the crowd bursts into an excited frenzy, Teddy turns to his band. "Muggle set?" At their nods and smiles, he nods back. Dacia starts right in on the drums for 'Search and Destroy', his bassist joining in. The crowd erupts, and Teddy turns and sings into the mic, "I'm a street-walking cheetah with a heart full of Napalm. I'm the runaway son of the nuclear A-bomb."

His version is less frenetic than Iggy Pop's, a little heavier, and Teddy settles into it like sitting a broom. It's natural, the guitar hungry for his touch. It doesn't escape him that he's singing a bit about his own breakdown. He figures he might as well rip off that bandage first thing. The point of coming back to music again wasn't to keep ignoring his problems after all. He can't heal the wound without exposing it to the air.

And so he does, singing about needing his soul saved, and only sparing fleeting glances around the room at the people he credits with saving it. The place is relaxed, their faces shining. People are moving to the music. He feels the collective magic tingling through the air. He lifts his gaze to find Harry smiling, Draco in his arms, and he sends them a tiny wink as he sings, "Love in the middle of a firefight," before dropping his eyes, feeling the mic buzz near his lips, his fingers tripping over strings.

They wrap it up, and the place explodes with the only sort of ecstasy that has ever done anything real for Teddy.

"Thanks," he murmurs into the mic. He clears his throat. Then he leans in and starts the opening hums of Hozier's 'Arsonist's Lullaby.,' The place goes tensely quiet, listening, hardly breathing. It is only the sound of Teddy's voice. Then his drummer comes in perfectly as he grinds on the guitar, the lyrics flowing from his very lungs.

Someone gives an appreciative scream near the bar, but Teddy closes his eyes and lets the music take him over. When Karlene comes in on the piano, his heart wants to weep with how good it is. The guitar vibrates against his body, against his cock, and if the song weren't so aching, haunting even, he might have gone half-hard. As it is, he lets that feeling pool in his stomach, waiting there, straddling potential and kinetic energies.

He feels more than hears the door open and lifts heavy lids, drugged by the music. It's everything he can do to keep playing then as he watches Bill Weasley enter with his wife.

Fuck.

Teddy feels his breath hitch in his throat and is grateful no actual lyrics are coming out of his mouth at the time. Bill strides in, his long, flowing white hair pulled half back and secured behind his head. Fleur is smiling on his arm, graceful as ever. Bill's gaze lifts and spears Teddy, pinning him to the spot, even as Teddy's fingers still strum the guitar's strings, song unceasing. But a part of Teddy has Apparated, soul splinching easily as Bill lifts his chin, lips quirking up at one corner. In the next instant, the moment shatters, and Bill guides his wife over to a booth, sliding in next to her and across from friends of theirs. Teddy's voice pierces through the air on the next stanza.

But it's weird. He finishes in a sort of daze. He feels lightheaded, as though he's taken a potion, and he doesn't like the sensation one bit. As the crowd applauds, he bends and takes a soothing sip of his drink. He clears his throat.

"So," he says into the mic next. "As you've probably noticed, this is a Muggle set." A girl shrieks from the middle of the crowd, and he gives a grin. People will shriek at the drop of a hat it seems. He goes on. "My musical tastes are heavily influenced by my godfather. I don't know, you might know of him." He slants Harry a sly look and a widening smile, and as anyone could have predicted, the bar explodes with cheers. Harry, of course, looks like he'd enjoy melting into the floor or transfiguring himself into a doorstop. Teddy gives a short laugh. "Well, his musical taste was heavily influenced by his own godfather, the irreverently cool and much missed Sirius Black." He pauses to give the audience time to nod, small sounds of affirmation drifting up into the magic-rich air. "His vinyl collection sort of explains a lot of songs in this set," Teddy says, glancing around the room, avoiding Bill entirely as he prepares for a few songs that don't remind him of those two nights, decades apart. Songs that only remind him of how much he loves the guitar in his hands, the pulsing crowd in front of him. "Sirius had loads of Muggle music," Teddy tells the audience with a conspiratorial smile, "just to piss his parents off probably. Anyway." He pulls the guitar in close, fingers readying. "Here's one of those."

He nods to Raoul and says away from the mic, "'Rebel Yell' into 'Baker Street'? The Nine Inch Nails to finish?"

"Yep." Raoul nods.

Teddy turns to Dacia. She twirls a stick and waggles her pierced eyebrows. Teddy gives Karlene a look and then pulls his wand to charm her piano into a synthesizer instead. She looks positively gleeful, and Teddy chuckles before he counts it off and they blaze into the Billy Idol. The place practically Incendios at the song, and for the first time tonight a group of younger, energetic fans spills out in front of the stage to dance.

Teddy's body fills with adrenaline as the guitar solo hits, and then everything drops for the drums before he leans into the mic, and he sings, eyes closed, "I walked the world with you, babe. A thousand miles with you."

It's essentially an accident that Teddy lifts his gaze and it falls on James. "I dried your tears of pain, babe. A million times, for you."

He'd thought this song was a pretty safe one, but as he watches James's Adam's apple move in his throat, Teddy's whole body floods with heat, and he remembers that night with a clarity he's tried to dull over the years.

James's marriage on the rocks. His wife -- sweet, affable Cordelia Clearwater -- on the verge of leaving him. James breaking down on Teddy's sofa, his pain like a magnet, pulling Teddy closer, Teddy's heart mirroring his ache. Teddy's fingers gently sifting through James's thick auburn hair, feeling the trembles in his fingertips, knowing it was a mistake before he'd even lifted his hand.

James's eyes swimming... finding his own. "You're so good." Voice raw and pleading. "You're so good, Teddy."

And Teddy's rough answer, "Oh Jamie. I'm not."

Their lips slowly meeting. The tension building, snapping back on itself as James's lips, on that gasp Teddy will always hear, parted.

One kiss. One long, hot, horrible kiss. Fucking twenty years ago.

"I'd sell my soul for you, babe," Teddy sings. And he thinks he sees it there -- shimmering in James's eyes like it's been there all along.

Teddy drops his gaze to finish the bridge and tear into the chorus one last time. No one else has seen his lapse. He doubts Harry would know what it was even if he had. Only Bill might. Bill, who Teddy had fled to in the aftermath. Again.

Jesus fuck. For the first time since he arrived at the club, Teddy feels regret. Like maybe he should have stayed under a rock somewhere and never resurfaced.

The song ends, and Teddy doesn't wait. He sets right in on 'Baker Street', his guitar grinding through what would have been sax otherwise. He gets his bearings again, lets the music bring him back to himself, back to the present, seating him here. He's always loved playing this song. He remembers finding the record among Harry's things when he was visiting over summer hols between fifth and sixth year. He'd had an old acoustic guitar for about two years at that point, and he spent months strumming out this old Muggle thing in Harry's dusty attic.

The crowd in front of the stage jumps and sways. Their shining faces ease Teddy's hammering heart. He sings, leaning into the mic. Stroking a hand up its stand, lips close, then he backs away for the next riff. By the time he edges into the heavy sensuality of the Nine Inch Nails, he's begun to sweat. Beads of it stick some of his hair to his forehead, and he wicks it away.

When the song's ended, he sets his guitar down for a moment and strips off the leather jacket. He's got a sleeveless black tee beneath. It shows faded tattoos he could always touch up with a thought and a little magic. He doesn't, but it gives him an idea. Something he hasn't done in a while.

"Alright, give me a moment," he says into the mic. He leans down and takes the last sip of his whiskey. Then he shuts his eyes, centres his magic, runs a hand through his hair and…

His body morphs. It's a familiar enough sensation, the transformation from male to female. He grows his hair a touch, feels breasts push at the cotton of his shirt. His jeans hang differently now as his genitals change too. He wouldn't have had to go all the way; he can change as much or as little as he likes. Sometimes he goes more genderqueer certainly. But tonight feels like an all or nothing sort of evening. Several whistles go up from the audience, some clapping and encouragement, some rustles of uncertainty. Teddy opens his eyes and hears a strained coughing fit near the door. "Yeah, it always messes a bit with you straight boys," he says with a smirk, voice changed but still deep, and some new laughter and applause greets his ears. Teddy smiles wider.

His band knows the drill, and so they get right to the Joan Jett: 'Do You Wanna Touch Me' and 'I Love Rock n Roll'. He loves the guitar for both pieces, and now, just like always, Teddy loses himself in the music, the group out on the dancefloor having multiplied. He licks the sweat from his upper lip and sings throaty, sexy lyrics. They cover some Heart next and finish with Elastica's 'Connection'. It's a bit trippy to be playing a song from Harry's generation and to be fifty-five up on the stage with a slew of twenty-somethings freaking out on the dancefloor.

When they finish, Teddy signals the bartender for a water even as he strips off his guitar and sets it aside. He Summons the water, lifts it in thanks, and then drinks down half lustily, pouring the rest over his head. He lets his body go back to the original packaging and shakes drops of water from his hair.

"Let's slow things down," he pants into the mic. With a flick of his wand, the lights change, lowering, softening. He picks up his guitar again, lifting the strap over his head. He leans in to begin the vocals, "The way you're bathed in light… reminds me of that night," coming in on the guitar next. Some dancers filter off the floor, but Teddy raises his eyes to see Harry standing from the sofa and offering his hand to Draco. Teddy watches as he sings, Draco blushing and batting at Harry's hand in refusal. But Harry waggles his fingers, and Teddy smiles as Draco is worn down by only that from Harry, taking his hand and rising slowly.

Harry leads him into the middle of the dancefloor and pulls him close, one arm around Draco's back, his other hand holding Draco's in close between their chests.

"Love will lead us, alright. Love will lead us, she will lead us," Teddy's voice rips through the air as the guitar roars louder and the drums blast in.

"Oh yeah we meet again. It's like we never left. Time in between was just a dream," Teddy croons and watches Harry's arm tighten around his husband, Draco's cheek nuzzling against Harry's. It almost hurts to watch them together; it's like seeing the most intricate magic, two spells spiralling around one another. Teddy has to force the emotion down to keep singing. He gets to the bridge, singing about the phoenix rising up from the ground and all the wars over, and Harry looks past Draco's shoulder, his soft gaze meeting Teddy's for but a moment before he turns his lips into Draco's hair.

When the song ends, Teddy gestures to them, leaning down to say out of the mic's ability to pick it up, "Can you do another?"

Harry looks at Draco, eyebrows raised a little. "How's the hip?"

"One more," Draco says with a small smile at Teddy, then back at Harry. "I can do one more."

Teddy straightens again. He nods back to Dacia, and they start Prince's 'The Beautiful Ones'.

"Baby, baby, baby. What's it gonna be? Baby baby baby. Is it him or is it me?" Teddy glances at Karlene to see her eyes shut as she sways behind her synthesizer.

"You were so hard to find," Teddy lilts. "The beautiful ones, they hurt you every time."

Harry's gazing into Draco's eyes now, moving a strand of hair off his sharp cheekbone. But Teddy's attention moves beyond them, finding James still sitting at the bar. He's not watching now, his eyes on the beer bottle in front of him, thumb picking at the label absently. A hard knot of pain constricts inside Teddy's gut, and he shuts his eyes to sing, "Do you want him? Or do you want me? 'Cause I want you. I want you. I gotta know. I gotta know. Do you want me?" When he opens his eyes, it's to find wand tips lit around the room and waving back and forth to the slow beat.

Teddy goes hard on the guitar to finish out the song. After the applause dies enough for him to be heard over it, he thanks everyone. A sweet peal of laughter reaches his ears from across the room, and Teddy glances up at the booth where Bill and Fleur sit. Fleur is listening intently to and smiling at something the woman across from her is saying, but Bill… Bill's eyes are on him. Bill lifts a glass to his lips and takes a slow drink, gaze not leaving Teddy. Teddy's cock gives a strong jerk, and he swallows against the arousal.

He turns to Dacia; she knows what's next. He flicks his wand to turn Karlene's synth back into a piano and then counts it off. His guitar and the drums' initial gentle pattering rhythm begin on Stevie Nicks's 'Edge of Seventeen'.

Someone screams their appreciation from the middle of the room -- someone too young to have grown up with this song. This is Bill's generation, and Teddy lets himself look again, finding his steady gaze across the room and holding it, cock twitching hard against the throbbing of his guitar.

"He was no more," Teddy sings, and Raoul backs him up, "than a baby then. Well, he seemed broken-hearted. Something within him. But the moment, that I first laid. Eyes. On. Him. All alone on the edge of. Seventeen."

Bill blinks at him. Teddy could be mistaken -- the lights are shifting, dancing over the crowd, creating shadows, all kinds of places to hide -- but Teddy thinks he sees Bill shift on his seat. Just a little.

Teddy closes his eyes, the familiar lyrics tripping off his tongue, the ache and burn in his fingers keeping him grounded to the song as some part of him travels back in time.

The first time they'd been together… It was the night of his seventeenth birthday, when his wolfish tendencies erupted forth, suddenly wracking his body with horrible new change. He'd been standing in the kitchen in Harry's house, and his stomach had clenched. He'd dropped his butterbeer, fleeing as it glugged out and fizzed all over the floor.

Bill had found him out in the night, panting in the wind, the sound of the party going on inside muffled by the torrent of his own blood, the pounding in his temples, his throat, his painfully hard cock.

"Alright," Bill had murmured at his heaving back. He'd touched Teddy so gently, and Teddy had nearly jumped out of his skin. Bill kept his hand there, low on his back. So gently. Knowing. "Alright, let's take care of you."

Bill had Apparated them somewhere private. Somewhere he already knew.

"I wish I could take you slow, this first time," Bill had said, caring etched on his brow, hand warm on Teddy's cheek.

But Teddy had, at that point, been mindless with it, ripping into his own clothes without thinking, the shame just a glimmer at the corner of his mind, a small thing he would deal with later, once it had grown conspicuously huge. In the moment it was everything he could do not to shove Bill against the soundproofed wall of… whatever place he'd taken him to. Shove him there and rut, rut, rut hard against his thigh.

Bill had laid him out naked… taken Teddy's ankles and hooked them over his shoulders. Clothes still on, he'd gotten his long prick out, stroked it along Teddy's crease a few times, smacked it against his quivering arse, beating himself so stiff the head came out flush from the foreskin. Teddy had squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, shivers of anticipation skating along his skin. His body adjusted even before he'd given it much thought, preparing itself for taking a cock, unused to anything but his own fingers. He'd opened his eyes, stared up at Bill braced over him, and then…

The reason for the layers and layers of privacy charms had become quite apparent as, with the first stroke of Bill's cock pushing inside him, Teddy started to come, screaming out his orgasm.

He'd come. And then come again. And again. Five, six, seven times, until his cock was dry and twitching, Bill's thick knot pulsing, driving into him, exploding stars behind his eyes with every last thrust.

Bill had pounded into his body, gritting his teeth, even as Teddy had entered a sort of fugue state, feeling drugged, overwhelmed, wonderful, awful, all at the same time. His legs had fallen open, still hooked on Bill's straining arms and flopping. Bill had come with a grunt-turned-whimper, his body shaking, sitting back and pulling Teddy's no-longer-virgin arse back onto his dick and dragging Teddy's sagging body along with it. Teddy had felt slippery and full, oversensitive and boneless and divine. He'd done nothing but moan weakly, a fucked-out mess in Bill's strong, capable hands.

When they'd got their breath back enough, Bill sent his Patronus to the party to explain that Teddy had needed some time away and they'd be back in an hour or so. Then he'd told Teddy to get dressed -- and he'd taken him out for a rare steak; Teddy had scarfed down two.

That had been the first time. It had been the only time, for many years, despite Bill's continued tutelage regarding adaptation to the whole partial wolf… thing.

The only other time had been that night James had left Teddy's flat, stunned, the tears still staining his cheeks along with the telling blush. That night James had come to Teddy for comfort, and Teddy had lost his faculties and fucking kissed him instead.

Teddy isn't good. He's never been good. Harry is wrong. James was wrong.

So, so wrong.

Bodies collide in front of the stage, making seductive patterns in the skittering of lights as the song winds down.

Teddy knows he shouldn't; it's not the song he'd had planned next. But he wants to. It's what's inside him, just like the malleability of his body and the curse of the wolf's permanence, like clockwork, again and again rising and taking him over, taking him down.

It's all inside him. Harry's misplaced pride is inside of him. Bill himself is inside of him. James. Every moment, with and without James, will always be inside of him. The only way to let any of it out is through this. It's when he doesn't do this that it bleeds out in other ways and poisons his fucking life. This is the only way. Teddy lets that feeling of inevitability absolve him of consequence. The constant searing tension leaves his body, a rightness taking its place.

Teddy converts the piano into a synthesizer again, covers the mic, and leans over to Raoul. "In the Dark."

Raoul nods, situates his own guitar, stretching his neck a moment. Teddy casts a charm and lowers the lights a little more. He tucks his wand in his back pocket again, and then he starts the song, the sound of his own guitar feeling like the drag of breath through his lungs heard underwater, a thing indistinguishable from his own pulse.

He leans into the mic, lifts his gaze to James again, and sings, "Life isn't easy from the singular side. Down in the hole, some emotions are hard to hide." He leans back to stroke the harsh notes from the guitar and then eases back in. "It's your decision, it's a chance that you take. It's on your head, it's a habit that's hard to break."

He blinks, and James's gaze locks with his own.

"Do you need a friend? Would you tell no lies? Would you take me in? Are you lonely in the dark?"

Karlene goes to town on the synth, and Teddy sings, "In the dark," looking into James's eyes. "In the dark... In the dark. You never listen to the voices inside. They fill your ears as you run to a place to hide."

He watches James swallow, the movement of his throat looking painful, eyes swimming with conflict.

"You're never sure if the illusion is real. You pinch yourself but the memories are all you feel."

It reaches directly into Teddy's body, that look, and twists, holding tight.

"Can you break away from your alibis? Can you make a play? Oh, will you meet me in the dark?"

Teddy's stare remains on him, an invisible line of energy seeming to rope out and bind them together as Teddy repeats the words, over and over, in the dark, in the dark.

James blinks, and Teddy breaks the contact, backing away from the mic to look down at his hands working the strings, how the guitar comes to life for him. The crowd jumps and dances as he riffs.

When Teddy leans back into the mic, it's how he would with a lover. "You take no interest, no opinion's too dear. You make the rounds, oh, you try to be so sincere." A bead of sweat drips from his hair onto his cheek. "You guard your hopes, and you pocket your dreams. You'd trade it all to avoid an unpleasant scene." His heart hammers as he finds James again. He has to force the words past the emotion that wants to close his throat. He pleads across the space, "Can you face the fire when you see me there? Can you feel the fire and will you love me in the dark?"

His eyes prickle, and he blinks it away. "In the dark." James, watching him, slowly stands up from the bar. "In the dark." He gives Teddy a look of simultaneous yearning and loss. "In the dark." Teddy watches James turn and push through the throng of people. "In the dark." Watches him push out the door. "In the dark." Watches it slowly swing closed. "In the dark."

xX

A few more songs and he'd ended out both the set and the evening. He's said his goodnights to his band, to a yawning Albus and to Scorpius, charged with getting Al home alright. Teddy sits at the bar now, drinking an herbal tea and signing everything from old Transfiguration textbooks to bras.

"Made it all the way through," Teddy says with a tired smile as Harry and Draco approach, Draco predictably hanging off Harry and having to pull at his own right trouser leg to get it to come along after them. "You know you can Apparate straight from here," Teddy says. "You don't have to walk all the way out there and--"

"Harry can Apparate from anywhere," Draco says haughtily. Or rather, it's pride easily mistaken for haughtiness.

"Thank you for coming," Teddy tells them, jumping off his barstool to give them both a hug.

"Are you writing again yet?" Harry asks quietly near his ear.

Teddy rolls his eyes, feeling a very teenagerish groan leaving his lips. "Harry…"

"You write beautiful songs. I'm just saying." Harry leans back and gives him a smile. "You were… amazing up there. You know that, don't you?"

Teddy looks down at his boots but refuses to do something so juvenile as shrug and mumble.

"I thought he was about average," Draco says thoughtfully, and it has the desired effect as Teddy's head whips up.

"Sod bloody well off!" he laughs.

"Although I did like that Nimbus song, there close to the end. That band Harry liked when we were younger."

Teddy likes how he says that: younger. Acknowledging whatever youth they've got in them yet.

Harry snorts softly. "It's Nirvana actually, but yes. Are you ready, dear?"

"Yes, take me home this instant. I'm dying," Draco says, leaning his head against Harry's shoulder.

Teddy watches the look of utter devotion that transforms Harry's face, a look Draco can't see as his eyes gently close.

"Night," Harry says to Teddy. "You're coming to ours next Tuesday for dinner, no arguments." And then before Teddy can even open his mouth to inhale a breath and agree or refuse, Harry Disapparates them on the spot.

Teddy lets his breath out, leaning against the bar and taking another soothing sip of honey-lemon, the temperature just right. His throat is raw, his voice a bit hoarse, and his fingers throb, arms feeling loose and weird without his guitar to hold. His midsection feels strangely vulnerable as well, as though his instrument had acted as a shield.

"Hello, Teddy."

Teddy's stomach tightens, and he swallows before he turns. But Bill's face is relaxed, warm, and when he extends his hand, Teddy takes it and they shake slowly. "Bill," Teddy says, and then notices that Bill's standing there alone.

"Fleur decided to Floo back home with our friends for the evening," Bill explains at Teddy's wandering gaze. "I told her I might be late."

It's an innocent enough statement. It shouldn't make Teddy's balls ache. Shouldn't make his mouth water.

"I'm glad you came," Teddy says, gesturing to the barstool next to him as he takes his own again.

Bill moves slowly when he nods and accepts the seat, getting situated. But it seems less to do with his age and more to do with something that feels like patience. Not only patience but calm. Teddy boggles at it, being that they're both equally affected by the state of the moon -- and only becoming more so as the night wears on. Teddy can feel it down to his marrow, an as-yet manageable but insistent pulsing through all the reaches of his body. He has the urge, as he's often felt over the years, to try to shift, to morph away from it. Which never works, honestly. Few things do.

But one of those things is sitting across from him at this very moment.

"You look well," Teddy says. "Buy you a drink?"

Bill gives him a considering look, seeming to feel no pressure to answer forthrightly. It makes the tips of Teddy's ears itch.

"I thought you gave all that up," Bill says evenly.

Teddy's lips compress for a moment. "I gave up the recreational potions, if that's what you mean."

"Mm." Bill leans a forearm along the bar and gazes at him. "How have the moons been for you lately?"

Teddy takes a sip of his tea and gives a sigh. "No beating around the bush then."

"Have we ever?" Bill slants him a smile that's soft, knowing, and just slightly mischievous. His bright eyes are as full of good-humour and wit as ever. The twitch to his lips promises he's thinking thoughts that might provoke a blush if voiced aloud. Teddy envies the relaxed lean to his body. Yet as he thinks it, Bill's eyes shift, and he seems to watch Teddy's pulse beating hard at the base of his throat.

It feels good, the fact that Teddy can still make Bill's eyes dilate like that.

For just a moment, Teddy remembers the sting of James's exit.

Bill's gaze rises again, and they look at one another. Teddy reaches out and rests his hand over Bill's arm, his thumb curling around and gently brushing against the inside of his wrist. He feels the excited thump of his pulse belying the ease with which he sits and observes Teddy, like he didn't just walk over here to proposition him.

"Will your wife hate me," Teddy asks, "if I steal you for a few hours, tie you to my hotel bed, and fuck myself raw on your knot?"

Bill tilts his head, his smirk growing. "Hate you... She suggested it." He turns his wrist in Teddy's loose grasp so that his fingers trail along the underside of Teddy's arm now too, stroking gooseflesh onto his skin. "Although I'm going to shoot down the bondage idea." He slips off the barstool and stands, edging into Teddy's space. "Since I plan on touching you all I like."

The lights in the bar start to go out, one by one as the place closes down.

Teddy stands up as well, and Bill doesn't back away. Their bodies are nearly brushing as he looks into Bill's sharp blue eyes, tightens his grip on Bill's arm, and Apparates them.

xX

Wands out, they cast about three privacy charms each.

"One more?" Teddy asks, and they smile conspiratorially at one another when Bill casts an extra, before tossing his wand aside and ripping Teddy's t-shirt from neck to navel in one satisfying tear. His mouth descends, lips and teeth grazing Teddy's neck.

Bill reaches between Teddy's legs, gripping his cock inside his jeans hard, rubbing messily. Fuck he's handling Teddy's cock and his balls all in one go. He strokes his hand back so that he's got Teddy's bollocks and his arse in a greedy grab before going hard at his cock again.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Teddy breathes. He grabs a handful of Bill's long hair, thrusting his hips into his grip.

"Shit, I want to taste you," Bill growls, dropping down to the floor and opening his mouth against the denim, licking and slurping and biting Teddy's trapped cock.

Teddy hisses, his head falling back. He braces against the foot of the bed to keep from falling. Bill's mouthing at him like he's going to go down on him just like this, jeans and everything. He finds the already leaking head pressed tight to Teddy's hip and sucks it. He smacks Teddy's arse, grabbing on and shaking the flesh, growling as his lips descend down the shaft, getting his jeans soaking wet all along the stiff outline of his dick.

Teddy's hand in Bill's hair goes lax as his whole focus shifts to the mouth along his cock. Bill gets his jeans open, Teddy's cock bouncing free. Bill grasps it, angles it into his mouth, and bobs on it like he'll die if he doesn't, grunting and making obscene slick sounds.

Teddy sighs a groan, his hips working in a counterpoint thrust to Bill's mouth. He can't believe how much he wants this still. How much Bill so obviously does. He'd put on such a casual air at the bar. Teddy wonders, though, if the entire time he'd sat there and listened to Teddy play Bill had been hard for it.

"You ever, ah, get a knot in someone's mouth?" Teddy breathes, lightly pulsing his hips.

Bill sucks off him, chin shiny. "Is that a warning?"

Teddy grins. "Maybe." He swallows, taking his own prick in his hand and smoothing the foreskin along the shaft before gripping the base. "It's been a long time."

Bill frowns. "Since you've knotted someone?"

Teddy strokes again, the tip smearing pre-come on Bill's jaw, his lower lip. Bill's tongue darts out before he starts to stand. It takes two tries, but he shuns the hand Teddy extends to help.

"Why?" Bill asks, curling his warm palm against the side of Teddy's neck in the way that's always made Teddy practically melt for him. It's so paternal, claiming, and sexual all at once.

"Do you really want to get into this now?"

When Bill just blinks at him, fucking patience back with a vengeance, Teddy sighs. He takes Bill's other hand and places it back on his arse. "Because I rather wanted you to get into this."

Teddy smiles at how Bill rolls his eyes… but then Teddy catches his breath when Bill's fingers drift into the crack of his arse through the worn denim.

"Mmm," Bill hums, pressing in and stroking over Teddy's arsehole through the layers. "Get your kit off."

Teddy smiles, shimmying off what's left of his shirt, leaving the tatters on the floor. As he gets undressed the rest of the way, Bill takes his time, unbuckling his belt and slowly pulling tong from hole, leather from metal. "Bend over the bed."

Teddy stands before him, naked and hard, his arse feeling empty and ready, the slick already dripping down his inner thighs. "I thought you were going to let me ride you, Bill."

"I'm not too old to fuck you into the mattress." His eyes have gone dark, patience waned.

Teddy suppresses a shiver -- and then remembers that he's never had to suppress anything around Bill Weasley.

Briefly, involuntarily, Teddy recalls the feel of his lips touching James's… the way James had neither invited nor rebuffed him. He remembers how slow and lingering it had felt and yet how quickly dispensed with after the fact… James's body pulled against his own before the predictable retreat.

Teddy lets his gaze drift down Bill's body as Bill unzips his trousers, reaching a hand in. Teddy stares at the press of his knuckles against the material as he makes a fist around his cock… as, slowly, it moves.

He looks back into Bill's eyes. "Fuck me until I can't stand up."

Then Teddy turns, his body burning, and drapes himself over the foot of the bed. He shuffles his feet out, holding his breath until he feels Bill step in behind him, the incredible warmth from his body radiating out ahead of him in waves.

Bill bends down, taking a long whiff that would have Teddy embarrassed if it wasn't followed by an appreciative grunt and, "I love your sweet wet arse." Then Bill's tongue laps over him, his hands parting Teddy's arsecheeks to ease the way.

Teddy humps the bed, searching for friction against his aching cock as Bill licks his way inside and then sucks, grunting again, his hands squeezing hard and opening him further.

Teddy groans, long and loud.

"You ready?" Bill asks, nipping at a cheek.

"Fuck you, more than." Teddy presses his face into the bed. He groans as Bill takes fast licks around his rim, and Teddy practically creams himself, his body doing the work of preparing the way already. But before he can modify any further so that Bill's cock will fit easily on the first go, Bill stops him.

"I like how wet you get," Bill says. "But I don't want you to do the rest."

Teddy turns his head on the bed. "Why not?"

"I never understood before. Not like I do now." Bill runs his hands over Teddy's arse appreciatively, soothingly. "That you think you'll hurt people with it."

"With what?" Teddy wants to growl with frustration at being so ready and not yet having Bill's cock sliding home inside him and filling him up.

"Your cock," Bill says. "Your knot."

Teddy takes a breath to answer and then realises that he doesn't have one. Because it's mostly true.

"I think you've probably been operating under a misguided assumption, because of what you can do to your body -- and because most other people can't."

Just when Teddy thinks he'll combust from resentment at Bill turning philosophically conversational about knotting rather than bloody doing it, Bill steps in, and Teddy feels his cock lay heavy and hot along his crease. Teddy makes fists in the bedding and cants his hips back. He feels feverish and shaky, the moon pulling at something deep within him.

"So, I want you to take it just like this," Bill says, sliding his cock slowly between the cheeks of Teddy's arse. "I want to show you how good it can feel… and that you don't have to worry you'll hurt him anymore."

Teddy almost doesn't hear what Bill's said; his mind is quickly sliding into that nameless, dark place where the blood through his ears beats like a panicked heart and his muscles are on fire with each sensation. He relaxes his hole, rolling his hips back in needy invitation.

And then the word sinks in through the cotton of his mind: Him.

You don't have to worry you'll hurt him anymore.

There's no use pretending he doesn't know who Bill means -- or that he doesn't have a point.

But Teddy is too gone to care. "Put your fucking cock in me, Bill," he grits out.

Bill trails soft fingertips down his spine, lingering over every bump of bone beneath his shivering skin. "It's all I've been able to think about for hours," Bill breathes. Then he lines his cock up and snaps his hips, and he sinks inside Teddy, one beautiful, hot inch at a time.

It feels different this way… unadjusted. But it's not bad. God, it's not bad at all. It's been a long time since they've done this, him and Bill -- it's been twenty years, in fact -- but there's something so easy in it, even when he's tighter like this, even when it burns as it slides in. There's something unchanged between them, and Teddy feels a sort of rejoicing relief that it's still there, even now with all this time between who he was when he showed up at Bill's, destroyed from James's rejection -- and who Teddy is now, older, tireder, the both of them different people, but like this, the same.

Bill sets up a pace, thrusting in and out and making Teddy groan at the instant crawl of heat down his thighs, the ache in his balls.

"God, that's good," Teddy groans. He pushes his arse back against Bill driving inside him, reaching between his own legs to roll his bollocks in his hand. Bill changes the angle just a little, his breath coming faster, and Teddy's eyes roll back when his cock slides over his prostate.

They fuck to break the bed, and it creaks dangerously as Bill pistons into him from behind. A whine leaves Teddy's throat, and he feels Bill's body trembling slightly against his own. It's close to happening. Teddy can feel it in how the air thickens, warps, charged and ready.

Teddy stills, and Bill slides in all the way, staying there, grinding for a moment. Teddy widens his stance a bit more. He tilts his arse, forehead pressing to the bed. Bill grunts. And Teddy feels it, lengthening even more as it grows wide, so slick and hot. Bill's knot throbs in his arse, and Teddy cries out into the bedding, his cock leaking continually beneath him.

"Don't move," Bill says.

Teddy holds himself still as Bill flexes his arse and pushes in even tighter. Teddy gasps, but it's not from pain.

Bill lays himself out over Teddy's back and sighs like he's home, like Teddy's body is everything. He slips his hands beneath Teddy's armpits, grasping his shoulders. His mouth turns to Teddy's slick skin, licking warm and soft, humming, and then gently biting. "How's that?" Bill asks, soft and aroused.

Teddy just shudders for a moment, feeling his arse squeeze around the intrusion into it. "Brilliant," he breathes. He moves against the weight of Bill's body, and Bill starts to move with him, taking short little ruts that feel explosive all the same. Teddy groans, opening his legs still more, his feet coming off the ground -- and the added feeling of losing that last little bit of control blasts his arousal into overdrive.

"You knot me so good," he says, pushing back into Bill's pelvis like a slag.

Bill's hair sifts over his back as he lifts up just enough to grind his hips, moving his engorged cock in and out just an inch, but it's an inch that's going to drive Teddy over the edge entirely.

"Fuck yes you're going to make me come," Teddy says on a needy whine. He's gripping the bed in white-knuckled fists, the only touch to his cock that of the sheets as he rubs off against them. His arse feels over-full but as though it could never be enough at the same time. Teddy widens his legs still more, his muscles feeling like they'll rip, but all he wants is to open for Bill, to be a repository for his cock, his hot come -- and from the sound of things as Bill huffs behind him, growls a little, huffs some more, he's close.

Teddy's balls draw up. He dangles over the ledge of it for a moment, his whole body juddering with the imminent force of it, and then he's crashing down, his cock spurting pools of semen onto the bed, arse clenching around Bill's quickly fucking cock.

Bill growls, and then Teddy feels it inside him, warm and slippery and squeezing out to run down his thighs.

His name from Bill Weasley's lips sounds like the lost lyrics of a song suddenly remembered.

xX

Bill lights a fag and offers it to Teddy lying useless next to him. At least they somehow made it to the proper head of the bed. After Bill's knot had eased and he'd softened enough to slip out, they'd gotten cleaned up. And then they'd gone again.

The third time, after Bill's cock finished pulsing inside him, Teddy just rolled on top of him and kept humping, working out the last of a dry orgasm straddling Bill's body and rubbing it out on his stomach. He'd finally fallen to his side, as replete as he was likely to get.

"Sorry," Bill says when Teddy takes a drag and grimaces on his exhale.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Herbal. Actually good for you." Bill shrugs.

"Your wife?" Teddy asks wryly.

"Jesus, who else?" Bill snorts and takes the fag back, drawing on it and seeming to savour the bittersweet smoke.

He'd never made it all the way out of his clothes, but his shirt lies open as well as his trousers, though his cock's put away. Teddy admires the wiry muscles of his chest, the white hair sparse, freckles still prominent.

"I hope I can still fuck like that when I'm your age," Teddy finds himself saying.

"Fuck off," Bill says, but there's a smile in his voice, maybe a bit of pride as well.

"Do you need to be getting home?"

Bill sighs, long and relaxed. "In a little while." He doesn't seem prone to moving, and Teddy likes that he's stayed. As good as the sex tends to be with Bill, it's their long talks Teddy misses the most. Now that he's mostly sober… well, maybe it's something he can have again, his friendship with Bill. With the others. Maybe the shame won't get in the way of it any longer. The shame and the binges and his disappearances, legging it across the globe like he can outrun himself.

"Harry thinks I should be writing," Teddy admits sullenly.

Bill offers him the cigarette again, and Teddy takes it, warming to its strangeness on this second drag.

"Do you want to?" Bill asks.

"I don't know." Teddy sighs out a stream of smoke.

"Maybe you should try it. Maybe you won't know if you want to until you actually do. You know?"

Teddy stares at the ceiling, the shapes of the shadows moving across flung there by a bright moon edging nearer the horizon. After tonight the cravings will get better: for rough sex, raw meat, for drowning himself in whiskey.

"I think I need to stop," Teddy says.

"Drinking?"

Teddy sighs. "All of it. Not music. But the rest. Just… all of it."

Teddy lies very still, letting the words hang there. He's afraid they're just the beginning, the start of something he feels unready for — and something long past due all the same.

Bill clears his throat softly. "When are you going to tell him that you've loved him your whole life?"

"Not my whole life," Teddy points out a little too quickly.

"Might as well have." Bill sits up against the headboard to see Teddy better, and Teddy yanks the sheet up over his legs and crotch. Bill stubs out the fag in an ashtray on his lap and then sets it aside. "He's divorced. The kids are all out of the house. You're not going to ruin him with your knot," Bill says with a really annoying emphasis on 'ruin' as if that's just the barmiest thing ever to have kept two people apart. Maybe it is. "What else is there, Teddy? What the bloody hell is stopping you now?"

Teddy gives Bill a hard look and receives that warm patience in return. Teddy exhales a little groan and sits, turning his bare back on Bill and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I just…" He feels every ounce of fight leave his bones as he sags there, elbows on his knees. "I don't know how to stop running, Bill." It's not what he'd meant to say at all. He'd meant to change the subject. But he's still loose from the sex -- loose in ways that have nothing to do with his body. In ways that have everything to do with his heart… with how his soul fits inside his skin. It's never seemed to before. Maybe that's the whole reason for the potions, for the constant movement, for changing his skin to better fit what he feels on the inside, even when what's inside feels like shit.

"You both deserve to be happy, Teddy," Bill says. Teddy hears him righting his clothes, preparing to go, and Teddy feels a tiny sting of anxiety. Like Bill will leave and take with him Teddy's ability to talk about this stuff, to feel he might be worthy of something more. "I hope you stick around long enough to try on a little happiness."

Teddy listens to him move about the room. He's standing by the Floo when he turns again. "We're selling Shell Cottage. Did you know that?"

Teddy turns to look at him, to see that his hair has been let down. It flows over his shoulder, shining in the moonlight, like some of Fleur's Veelaness has somehow transferred onto him over the years.

"Oh?" is all Teddy can think to say.

"If you want a place," Bill says, "somewhere more permanent… we'd give it to you for a steal." He shrugs. "No one's actually lived in it for a few months. Not since Victoire moved out and left for that job in the States. Just think about it."

"Bill," Teddy calls, when he seems on the verge of leaving.

Bill stops, and Teddy rises from the bed, padding over naked. He takes Bill's face in his hands. There are more wrinkles than freckles now, but there's also a surprising tautness under Teddy's fingers. And then there's the scar, thick and jagged and so much a part of Bill that Teddy hardly notices it usually. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Bill's lips, one finger tracing the raised scar tissue, gently mapping its circuitous descent from cheekbone to jaw.

Teddy barely lifts his lips to say, "Thank you for getting me through yet another bloody moon."

Bill smirks into the lingering kiss. "You're giving me far too much credit, when I was just sniffing after a hot piece of rockstar arse."

"Liar," Teddy smiles, pulling Bill close, and feeling Bill's arms wrap around him as well.

"Yes and no," Bill says. He turns his lips to Teddy's ear and murmurs, "When you play, I can't tell if you're an angel or the devil. I'm just as susceptible to you as everyone else, you know."

"I'm just a bloke with a guitar." Teddy feels himself blush. Merlin, his hair's probably magenta by now.

"You're not to me."

Teddy's breath catches, hearing it. He's always thought… well, that he was somewhere between a good shag and a pet project for Bill. But Bill has pulled back in his arms and is looking at him with that expression… the one Teddy has seen on his face when he looks at Fleur and she doesn't know he's looking. Like he's lucky to be looking at her at all.

"You're not to me," Bill says again, on a sigh. "And you're certainly not to him."

He winks at Teddy, extricating himself, and then takes a fistful of Floo powder. "Think about it," he says, and before Teddy can decide if he means the cottage or James or something else entirely, Bill just smiles one last time, steps into the Floo, and flashes away.

xX

Two nights later, Teddy is sitting by the window of his hotel room. An acoustic guitar leans against the sill close by. He's got parchment unfurled over his lap, a book propped beneath for stability, and he's scratching out some shitty lyrics, marking through them, and trying again.

He's just compared the sound of the wind to a Thestral's breath, and he's lamenting being so sober and about to ball up the parchment bitterly and start over, when an owl lands outside his window and blinks at him.

Teddy's heart crawls into his throat. Because if Teddy's not mistaken, that's Kenny, James's snowy owl. Teddy flings open the window, and the bird lands on his desk. Teddy hastens to remove the small scroll from his leg and then reads, half holding his breath.

Dear Teddy,

This is followed by multiple crossings-out of first lines. Teddy can't help but smile at James's crap penmanship. He'd always begged Teddy to rewrite his essays for him long after Teddy had left Hogwarts, just so that they'd be legible.

Teddy swallows, licks dry lips, and tries to quiet his heart as he reads on.

Fuck, I'm so sorry for leaving like I did the other night. I was going to try to talk about something else, but if I don't apologise I'm going to Confringo right out of my skin. I hate that you may think I left for… well, reasons that aren't true. I left, in part, because you sing so beautifully it hurts to listen to it. I don't know if you know how you sound, or if it sounds that way to everybody, or if it's just me because I hear your heartbeat in every bloody word.

Damn but this is a terrible letter. I'm such a stupid coward. I don't know where I get it, with Mum and Dad being who they are and such. But I am. I'm a coward, Teddy. I should be saying this to your face, but here I am writing a note like a third year.

Sod it. I've missed you.

Here, Teddy stops. He stops and just reads the words over and over. He hears James saying them aloud so easily, like he's in the room, the sound of his voice a touchstone. Teddy takes a deep breath, eyes finally moving down the page again.

I know you're having dinner with Dad and Draco Tuesday. You should know they've invited me as well. You know how they are. They think they're stealth, the idiots.

Teddy laughs -- even as his eyes blur, and he has to wipe them clear to see the rest.

I hope you do come, Teddy.

I want you to come.

I just think maybe Maybe we should I'd like very much to meet you ahead of time, if I can. Maybe tonight? Tomorrow night? Whenever you're free. If you're free. I…

Christ, Ted, I want to know you again. I know I know you, and you know me. No one will ever know me like you know me, I don't think.

Teddy's hands are shaking, and he runs wobbly fingers through his hair.

I want… James writes, and Teddy can see the change in the cursive, the way his quill must be trembling. I want more. Of you. With you. I want…

You.

A frail laugh leaves Teddy's lips, and he dashes hard at the stupid tear that slips down his face before it can fall and smear the ink.

Can we maybe have tea, or dinner, or whatever you want? Really, if you just let me sit with you after I've been the most astounding knobhead on the face of the earth, I'll count that as a win.

I'm going to send this off with Kenny before I lose my nerve.

All my love, always,

Jamie

"Bloody…" Teddy gets out before the absurd laugh bubbles wetly out of him again. He stands and paces the room, reading the letter again. And then again. The laugh leaking out of him as though his body can't contain the emotion.

Then he grabs a quill and bends at his desk to write a reply:

Of course I'll see you, you nitwit.

I'll see you whenever you want. Now, if you'd like. I'd see you yesterday if I could. James, I'd give you all my yesterdays. If I could.

Teddy signs it, shaking, then he attaches the letter to the owl's little leg again. "I don't have any treats," he tells him. "But if this all goes well, Kenny, I swear rich reward will rain on you."

Kenny, always a bright one, widens his eyes at this and hoots happily. Then he soars out the open window.

Teddy watches him go for a moment, watches his own reckless words flying off toward the man he's always tried so hard not to love. He watches the snowy wings unfurling across the deep blue sky, glowing silver under the waning moon.

Then Teddy can't help what he does next. His hand reaches for the guitar in the corner, and before he can coalesce the magic to properly Summon it, it flies joyfully into his hand. Teddy pulls it close as he sits on the edge of his bed, facing the empty night and its endless potential -- and he starts a new song.


Ending Notes: Teddy’s Set List (minus most of the songs not mentioned specifically):

Search and Destroy originally by The Stooges and Iggy Pop (but I quite like the cover by Peaches, and that’s what I listened to as I wrote. ;) )

Arsonist’s Lullaby by Hozier

Rebel Yell by Billy Idol

Baker Street originally by Gerry Rafferty (but Teddy’s version more closely subscribes to the cover by the Foo Fighters, which I also listened to while writing).

(Just for anyone who’s curious, the Nine Inch Nails I listened to while I wrote was Dead Souls off The Crow soundtrack, but it’s not mentioned in the fic.)

It’s originally by Gary Glitter, but I used Joan Jett’s version of Do You Wanna Touch Me and also her I Love Rock and Roll

Connection by Elastica

Dolphin’s Cry by Live

The Beautiful Ones by Prince

Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks

In the Dark by Billy Squier