Title: Tradition, Upheld
Author: snegurochka_lee
Characters: Bill/Teddy. Implied other cross-gen m/m pairings. A bit of Bill/Fleur that sneaked in when I wasn't looking. Standard Charlie cameos.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Teddy is 18, but there is insinuated underage sex in other pairings. Infidelity which is part of open marriage; implied infidelity in other couples which is not.
Theme chosen: Everything Old is New Again, in this case: Catamites (from Feb. '09: young men used as personal lovers for older men).
Word Count: ~6,000
Summary: Over too much beer the next two nights, Charlie told Bill more than he'd ever wanted to know about this particular holdover of Roman Wizarding tradition. Years later, when he was forty-five years old, the way the kid across the table from him was looking at him made Bill want to do every filthy thing Charlie had told him about all those years ago.
Notes: Because I missed this theme in its original month last year, and then spent much of the rest of the year thinking about all the lovely stories that could be told with it. ;)



Tradition, Upheld

by Snegurochka

*

One had to be careful when speaking in defence of tradition; all too often, less savoury sorts used it as a terribly convenient excuse to beat their wives or deny school entrance based on bloodline.

As the eldest male of a Pureblood family, Bill Weasley was well aware that he in particular could be easily mistaken for a complete boor if he spoke the word too often or backed policies in which it was entrenched. Tradition had spawned Death Eater bigotry and two wars, after all. Tradition had supported unpaid house-elf labour for centuries.

But tradition, one in particular, had also given him the young man kneeling before him, with wet lips sliding slowly over Bill's prick even as a faint blush stained that young, pretty face, and Bill couldn't bring himself to complain about that.

***

Mostly, he blamed Charlie.

Bill liked to think that he would never even have known about this particular Wizarding tradition if bloody Charlie hadn't fled to Romania after Hogwarts – and had started sending letters back that increasingly mentioned the brilliant mentoring techniques his French compound director employed.

Concerned that his brother's summer job might be turning too permanent too quickly, Bill had cornered him at the Burrow one night after Charlie's first visit back home. Charlie had flushed only briefly before clearing his throat and looking Bill straight in the eye.

"What it means," Charlie had said, "is that I'm fucking him." He couldn't keep the grin off his face or the light out of his eyes. "Well, he's fucking me, rather. Oh my God, you should see the look on your face." Darting a glance over his shoulder to make sure their mother was still occupied with the tomatoes, he'd leaned in closer. "Things Dad didn't mention during his famous Chat in third year," he'd added mischievously, waiting, apparently, for Bill to wink and acknowledge their shared joke.

Bill could only remember staring at him.

"Ancient Wizarding tradition," Charlie had continued, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest. "You really don't know?"

Bill had only blinked at him, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of his little brother shagging some fifty-year-old French bloke. Bill had seen the photos; the director was fit enough, running a dragon compound, but Christ, he was old.

"Wow, okay." Charlie had run a hand over his face. "Well, the way he explained it to me is that it can be part of job training, sort of. I mean, okay, that sounds stupid, so not, like, fucking and then going back to filing, or something." He'd furrowed his brow and seemed to gather his thoughts. "It's a loyalty thing, you know? Like the ancient Greeks and Romans. Hey, we've got Latin spells from them, why not this?" He'd paused to grin again. "Look, we're all supposed to live together out there, and trust each other with those fucking dragons which – I don't know if you know this, but they're bloody huge, yeah? I want a bloke out there with me who's got my back. And–"

"So he's convinced you that shagging is all part of the deal?" Bill's anger had risen swiftly, his instinct to protect his younger siblings as strong as ever. He'd suddenly wanted that director's bollocks roasting on a stick. "I'm telling Dad. That's fucked up. That's not–"

He'd made to turn away, but Charlie had gripped his arm so hard he'd found bruises the next day. "The fuck you are," Charlie had growled at him. "I'm eighteen, I like cock, and he's not doing anything I don't want him to do. So shut the fuck up."

Over too much beer the next two nights, Charlie had told Bill more than he'd ever wanted to know about this particular holdover of Roman Wizarding tradition, including the tidbits that it seemed to be more popular in France than Britain but had been on the rise again in the twentieth century; that although no laws governed it, precisely, taking up with boys much younger than fifteen was generally frowned upon and, more often than not if it were discovered, a bloke would find himself under arrest for encouraging "underage magic" or some such guise; and that it was far more common than Bill ever would have guessed.

***

"Dad, Teddy needs a job."

There it was, right there. Right there. That was the moment when he should have seen the whole thing coming, should have shaken his head and expressed his regrets and convinced his daughter that no, unfortunately, there were no openings at Gringotts at the moment for her sometimes-boyfriend.

"Oh, no, sir." As Bill glanced up, Teddy elbowed Victoire in the arm and gave her a murderous look. "I can find my own work."

Bill took a bite and chewed slowly, regarding the pair of them across the table. "Doing what, exactly?"

"He's brilliant at Charms, Dad," gushed Victoire, "and he learns really quickly. Tell him," she whispered furiously, ducking her head down close to Teddy's.

"And what do you think you need to learn so quickly," said Bill, "that it needs to be done at my bank, and with my teaching?" He glanced up from his plate again to find Teddy watching him much too carefully while Victoire reached for more wine. He held Teddy's gaze a moment too long before closing his eyes briefly and looking down at his plate. The lump of potato he swallowed turned cold in his stomach as he instantly sought to take the words back.

"I can think of a few things," murmured Teddy, so softly Victoire didn't hear as she called to her mother in the kitchen.

Bill raised his head again.

He was forty-five years old, but the way the kid across from him was looking at him made him want to do every filthy thing Charlie had told him about all those years ago.

***

Despite Charlie's stories, Bill didn't entirely believe it all until he himself was approached by a bank superior in Egypt. That bloke had nothing on Charlie's French director. He was plump, smug, and had certainly never wrestled a dragon. It wasn't difficult to turn him down.

But Bill cast an eye over his colleagues after that, the fresh-faced youth like him from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons who had joined Gringotts over the previous few years and who all too often, now that he thought about it, shared knowing glances as they quietly stayed back with one superior or another for special training or remedial jinx study, a hand lingering just too long over the small of a back, or trimmed, silvering beards brushing just too close to smooth, freshly shaven jaws while a pair mulled over a broad sheet of parchment together, and...

... he wondered.

***

He started by giving the kid a job.

Mentoring, Charlie had called it, but Christ, it wasn't exactly a dragon reserve or curse-breaking in the desert; gathering his sexual desires under the umbrella excuse of workplace training seemed dodgy at best. Teddy proved an ambitious and competent apprentice, though, and before long, Bill found himself ordering the kid to leave the filing and join him for lessons in spell interpretation and code writing, the base magic for the Gringotts vaults.

Leaning against the wall of Bill's office while home on a visit one day, Charlie watched Teddy saunter off down the hall. He wet his lips and glanced back at Bill. "Please tell me you are taking every advantage of this opportunity you have so carefully given yourself."

Bill must have given him a pained look, because Charlie let his head fall back, groaning.

"I saw the way he looks at you," insisted Charlie. "Trust me: consent is not an issue here. So what's the problem?"

"I'll get over it."

Charlie blinked at him. "But, why? You don't have to get over it." He nodded in the direction Teddy had exited. "Just go do it! Christ. You don't have to marry the kid."

Bill opened his mouth to reply but then closed it.

"Ah." Charlie rubbed his jaw. "That's it, then. You don't want to get too attached. Might be too late for that." He eyed Bill. "You've indulged before, though, if all too rarely for my tastes. What's so different about this one?"

He hadn't indulged before, not with a man as young as Teddy. There had been twenty-something women and thirty-something men, but never teenage– Christ. "I've work to do," he muttered. "Bugger off."

Charlie ignored him. "Aha!" He pushed himself off the wall and planted his hands on Bill's desk, leaning over. "Werewolf thing?"

Bill shook his head. "I don't think so. Doesn't make sense."

"Doesn't have to. He's got the blood, you've got the blood – poof." Charlie made a little exploding gesture with his hands.

"Christ. No. No poof."

Charlie was silent for a long moment. Finally he stood up straight, and when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle. "Remus wouldn't mind, you know."

Bill looked up.

"I mean, he might." Charlie grinned. "But he'd know his kid was in good hands. He'd know you'll treat him like a prince."

Charlie left, giving him a dismissive wave over his shoulder, and Bill sat at his desk for a long time, considering what he'd said.

***

By the time he was twenty-five, Bill had long since stopped getting any offers from passing older men. Charlie would roll his eyes at him and shake his head sadly, mourning, on Bill's behalf, all his lost chances, but Charlie himself was no spring chicken anymore and had moved on with blokes more his own age. It would be a few more years before Charlie would be old enough to repay the favour, so to speak, with the new trainees.

It didn't take Bill nearly as long to figure out he'd rather be older than younger, if such traditions had to be maintained. He only realised it, moreover, not by getting one of Fred or George's Quidditch-playing friends alone in a quiet corridor, but rather by finding himself balls deep in a seventeen-year-old girl from Beauxbatons, a sharper arousal clouding his judgement than he ever would have thought possible.

***

Holding off was easy, but keeping his desire from showing on his face turned out to be much more difficult. He wasn't sure who noticed first, Charlie or Fleur, but he heard about it from his wife not long after he heard about it from bloody Charlie.

"So," she began, closing their bedroom door behind her one night and sauntering towards him. She cupped his face with her hands and slid her fingers up into his loose hair. Gazing up at him, she gave him a tight smile. "Victoire tells me she and Teddy are simply friends now. He is more interested in–" she paused only briefly, her smile turning coy – "different things."

"That's too bad," said Bill reflexively, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I thought she really liked him."

Fleur shrugged. "She is like me. Fickle."

Bill grinned at her. "Is that what you are?"

She laughed, lifting her hands away before replacing them on his chest, her palms sliding down. She was quiet for a moment, pulling her lower lip under her teeth. He knew that look.

"Out with it."

She kissed him, and then spoke softly against his mouth. "There is a new apprentice at Madam Malkin's. I am interested in him."

The old flare of jealousy never died out, not completely, but it was much easier to tame now than when they were younger. This was the only way they had stayed together so long; they loved each other above all others, but neither of them could deny that every so often, there were others. "All right," he said quietly, tilting her chin up with his finger. "Will once do?"

She smiled up at him.

"Twice?"

"I do not know yet, do I?"

"Twice, then," grumbled Bill, "and after that I want an update."

She kissed him again, slow and sure, before pulling back and nodding. "Agreed." She paused, tilting her head to the side. "And you?"

"No. No one right now." He moved out of her grasp and turned away. She didn't say anything for a long moment, and he feared turning around to face her again. He ran his hands over his face and then up through his hair, gathering it in one fist and muttering a word to tie it back.

Her hand fell lightly over his shoulder. "I am not blind," she said quietly, "and you should not lie to me. Not after this many years."

He sighed, closing his eyes.

"You may have as many times as you need, because that is how long this has been pent up. But there are two conditions."

He glanced back over his shoulder at her.

"One: you must never tell Victoire, and you must be certain that he does not do so, either. And two–" her face softened, and she leaned in to graze her teeth over his shoulder – "you must tell me everything."

With a groan, he turned again and captured her mouth. He pushed one hand through her hair and gripped the back of her head, guiding her mouth to his with bruising intensity. She laughed against his lips and pulled him closer, until she was backed against the bedroom wall. He yanked his trousers open as she hiked her skirt up and shoved her knickers aside, and he sank inside of her in seconds. Wet heat surrounded his cock, and Fleur's lilting voice in his ear described everything he'd recently imagined doing to Teddy.

***

It could have happened with Remus, Bill mused in the years following his death, and even Charlie had always wondered aloud why it didn't. There had only been ten years between them, though, and at least one girlfriend who hadn't been up to sharing.

It could have happened, with all the time they spent together after Bill was attacked, during the long talks deep into the night or the gentle prodding of flesh and muscle that always ended up much more clinical than Bill might have liked.

It could have happened, but it never did.

***

The language slanting across the parchment in front of him wasn't familiar, and Bill leaned over the table with one hand planted firm, the other gripping his wand and scanning the page with a spell to enlarge the script. He was vaguely aware of Teddy moving around the office behind him, gathering books to consult and quills to record their findings.

"Any luck?" Every few minutes, Teddy would pass closer to him, their robes brushing as he pretended to peer over Bill's shoulder.

"Quiet."

He could sense the kid's grin. "When you get the answer, will you tell me how you did it?"

Bill ignored him, muttering the spell again to enlarge the font at the corner of one swirling letter.

Teddy finally stopped hovering, appearing at his side and looking straight at him. "I'd like you to teach me."

Bill looked up, his heart suddenly pounding. He hardly knew a thing about this kid, Bill realised, apart from the fact that he had an aptitude for figures. The rest of it was purely physical, and that was what alarmed Bill the most. All those years of watching this sort of thing happen around him, watching his friends and relatives and colleagues all wet their lips and narrow their eyes at young wizards who walked by, hair casually tousled and eyes bright with inexperience, and Bill had never been able to bring himself to take that final step and become one of them.

Until now.

Lips grazed the back of his neck. "Teach me," Teddy whispered.

A shiver shot straight down Bill's spine, and he gripped his wand tightly. "I think the way these things generally work is that I do the asking, and you do the thing about playing coy," he murmured. "Not the other way around."

"Then start asking."

Bill turned at last to find Teddy watching him, lips wet and those big eyes wide with innocence and anticipation. He took a step forward and cradled Teddy's chin in his index finger. "This wouldn't be some tawdry office affair," he said at last.

"I know," breathed Teddy, leaning into the touch as Bill's palm slid up to cup the side of his face. "I know about the traditions, about the mentoring. I want you to teach me," he repeated, swallowing thickly even as his face took on a look of pure longing.

"And who told you about those traditions?" Bill let his hand slip down Teddy's face, lightly skimming his neck before dipping into his shirt to glide over his collarbone.

Gasping and tilting his head back, Teddy gave him a rueful smile. "Orphan," he breathed. "Everyone wants to have a go."

Bill froze. He snatched his hand back as though burned. "What?"

Teddy blinked at him. "Oh. No. I don't mean– not like that. Not when I was a kid. Just–" he stepped forward again, his fingers reaching for Bill's trousers – "lots of blokes who fancy themselves father figures, you know? Lots of advice. Offers, too, since I've been a bit older. But not– nothing I haven't wanted."

"Not much I can teach you, then." Gathering control of himself, Bill turned to leave the office and forget this entire awful idea.

***

He couldn't admit it to Charlie, but Bill wasn't entirely certain the whole thing didn't have a lot more to do with the moon than he'd thought. Tradition could only take a man so far, after all; it didn't explain why his body reacted so traitorously to Teddy but not his other younger employees, why it was Teddy he wanted to pin to a bed and ravage senseless but never any of the pretty young things he'd seen Charlie sling his arm around.

Greyback had certainly liked them young; that was a well-known fact, even in a Wizarding culture that passed down the tradition of young lovers only through secret whisperings and murmurs.

Sometimes, late at night with the moon bright overhead, Bill stood at the window and wondered.

***

"Quite a sight, that one, isn't he?"

Bill looked up sharply, his quill clenched in his fist. Fuck. Ryker. He narrowed his eyes at the moustached, pot-bellied man standing in his office doorway. Winking, Ryker nodded towards Teddy across the hall, bent over a filing drawer. Bill grunted.

"Don't suppose you could spare him a few hours a week, hm? I've... extra tasks I think might suit him." He reached one plump hand up to smooth over the end of his moustache, and Bill nearly broke his quill in two. Ryker leaned forward, whispering. "No father, you know." He gave Bill a knowing grin. "No one to stand up for his honour, so to speak." A great belly laugh rumbled out of him. "Just might use that in my favour, hm?"

Bill was on his feet in seconds, his wand digging into Ryker's throat. "If you touch that kid," he ground out, "I'll kill you."

Fear flashed through Ryker's eyes, but he shoved Bill off, straightening his robes and clearing his throat. "So you fancy yourself his father, Weasley?" he sneered.

Wiping his hand over his face, Bill fought to control his anger and jealousy. When he looked out into the hallway, he saw Teddy staring between him and Ryker with wide eyes, a stack of files clutched to his chest. He caught Teddy's gaze and held it. "No. Not his father," he said to Ryker with his eyes still on Teddy. A flush crept up Teddy's cheeks and his lips parted. "Lupin," he said, breathing hard as he jerked his head and moved out of the way of his office door. "Get in here. And you," he added to Ryker, pointing his finger, "get the fuck out."

Teddy hurried into the office, nervously standing near Bill's desk.

Shifting his beady eyes between Bill and Teddy, Ryker let out a bark of a laugh. "You think you're better than the rest of us, Weasley, pretending all men's needs aren't the same? Go on, then. Take what you want from that pretty little slag and then see where his loyalties lie. He'll be on his back for the next man in line before you're even finished."

He stormed off, slamming the door behind him, and Bill strode over to Teddy and took his face in between his hands.

"I wouldn't do that," said Teddy in a rush, his hands clutching at Bill's wrists. "I don't move between men. I don't–"

"Quiet," growled Bill, his mouth crashing over Teddy's. He poured everything he could into the kiss, all the pent-up arousal and rage and possessiveness, every instinct he'd ever felt to protect this damn kid, to teach him anything, everything, to watch him fall apart in Bill's arms, from Bill's touch, looking to Bill to put him back together again. When he pulled back, he closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head. "I don't do this," he said quietly. "I don't care about this tradition thing. I don't actually want you tied to some dodgy old–"

"You're not," breathed Teddy, his palm flat on Bill's chest. "You're different."

"I'm married," Bill pointed out. "So you can't think I'll ever take up with you for good, or leave her, or–"

Teddy shook his head. "I won't." His fingers crawled up Bill's chest until they were sliding over his throat, light touches that made Bill close his eyes and moan. He leaned forward again and captured Teddy's bottom lip, tugging at it gently.

"Want you," he murmured against Teddy's mouth, and he felt Teddy smile.

"Thought so."

"Christ." He kissed Teddy again, long and deep, his fingers lodged in the kid's dark hair as he took control of the kiss and pressed his tongue into Teddy's mouth. "Come on," he murmured. "I'm too old to fuck you over a desk. Want to do this right. You live alone?"

Teddy nodded, sliding down to lick at Bill's throat.

"Good. Let's go."

Grinning, Teddy grasped his arm and turned them on the spot, Apparating them both to his flat. Everything about it was young, and Bill couldn't deny the surge of excitement that flooded him. There were no matching pillows on the sofa or proper curtains to complement the carpet. Rock posters hung from the wall at tilted angles, empty beer bottles littered a side table, and an abandoned box of carry-out peeked out from the kitchen counter.

"It's a mess; don't look," Teddy said with a laugh, dragging him to the bedroom. Once there, he backed Bill up against the door and kissed him again, his fingers already fumbling with Bill's robes.

"You first," growled Bill, pushing him gently back. "Take your clothes off."

Teddy was all long lines and lean muscle as he stripped his clothes away, pulling his shirt off his head and stepping out of his jeans. He stood still for a moment when he was finally naked, throwing Bill a glance over his shoulder before crawling forward onto the bed. He rolled onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows, watching.

"What have you done before?" murmured Bill, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders.

"I've used my mouth," answered Teddy without hesitating, his voice a bit breathless, "and my fingers."

"Has anyone ever fucked you?"

Teddy took in a shuddering breath, holding Bill's gaze, before nodding. "Twice."

Bill's fingertips prickled, and he had to take a deep breath to calm his arousal. "Who?"

Teddy hesitated. "No one you know," he said at last, swallowing.

"Liar." Bill left his trousers on as he joined Teddy on the bed. "The same man?"

"No. Two different men. Both older." Teddy sat up, looking stricken. "Are you angry?"

Envy and possessiveness surged in Bill. He didn't answer. "Roll over," he said instead. Teddy blinked at him for a moment but then complied, spreading himself out on his stomach. Without preamble, Bill knelt over him and pressed his thumbs into Teddy's cleft, sliding them slowly down. "Tell me about them." Then he lowered his mouth.

Gasping, Teddy writhed on the bed, his back tensing. "Oh. God. Okay. For the first, I was staying at my friend's house, got up for a glass of water in the middle of the night." Bill's tongue dipped deeper, his thumbs still holding Teddy open. "His father was in his study, offered me a drink. Before I knew it, I was bent over his desk."

Bill lifted his head and let one big thumb take the place of his tongue, sliding inside Teddy. "With his cock in your arse? That's nice for a first time."

Teddy laughed, quickly turning into a moan as he pushed back against Bill's hand. "It was brilliant," he breathed. "He told me such filthy things, everything he'd been thinking about me every time I'd visited before."

Bill's cock thickened in his trousers; he'd had many of those very fantasies about Teddy, he'd be willing to wager.

"More, God. Please." He pushed back, and Bill smoothed one hand up Teddy's back. His skin was soft and fresh, his limbs lean and his desire so innocent, the very picture of youthful vigour. Bill shifted on his knees and opened his trousers.

"The second?" he muttered as he freed his cock, slicking his palm with a spell and smoothing it over himself.

"At school last year," breathed Teddy, pushing himself up to his hands and knees and dropping his head between his shoulders.

Bill paused. "I thought you said they were both older." The tip of his cock nudged at Teddy's entrance, eliciting a slow, steady exhale.

"Professor," he gasped.

Bill groaned along with him as he squeezed his eyes shut. That was too much. He pushed forward, entering Teddy with slow, steady pressure as thoughts of dirty detention filled his mind. "No one your own age?" he managed.

"No," Teddy murmured, pushing back against him. "Plenty of time for that, isn't there?" He gave a breathy little laugh before dropping his head down again, his elbows locked. "You wouldn't want me if we were the same age, would you?"

Bill couldn't see his face, but he could hear the note of sadness in his voice. "I don't know," he said gruffly, sinking his cock in deeper. "How about we stick to right now? Christ, you're gorgeous."

Teddy did glance back over his shoulder at that, giving Bill a small smile. "More," he whispered.

Bill pulled out slowly, watching his hands glide down over the flawless skin of Teddy's back and arse, watching his body grip at Bill's prick right to the tip. When he pushed in again, the greying auburn of his body hair pressed tight against the smooth expanse of Teddy's skin, he felt a heady rush of power that he could only attribute to their age difference. He'd never seen the appeal of letting an older man do this to him when he was Teddy's age, but now, with this eighteen-year-old beauty spread out underneath him, Bill wanted nothing but to be worshipped for his age and experience, put on a pedestal by someone who valued his maturity.

He fucked Teddy slowly, trying to put any lingering thoughts of quick shags over desks or in classrooms right out of the kid's head, trying to replace them with images of what sex should be like at his age: to be taken by a sure, experienced partner, to be brought to the brink over and over again with steady strokes and lingering touches until he was sobbing with the need to climax but still pressing back against Bill and begging for more.

Bill let Teddy come once while he was still penetrating him, Teddy's cock hot in Bill's fist and spilling over onto the sheets while Teddy bit his lip and ground his thighs back against Bill's. "You're all right," Bill soothed, gathering Teddy in his arms, Teddy's back soft against his chest, and continuing to gently thrust up into him while Teddy shuddered.

"You're still hard," whispered Teddy with a grin over his shoulder after a few moments, when he seemed to come back to himself and realise Bill was still inside him.

"Too much?"

Teddy shook his head. "Slowly," he breathed, his head falling back against Bill's shoulder. "Fuck me more."

Bill settled him back down on the bed, withdrawing only to kick his trousers aside at last before pushing back in. Teddy sprawled on his stomach, hitching one leg up and grasping at the pillows. Boneless, he let Bill ride him, slow but hard, each thrust measured to spark the kid's arousal once more. Teddy's body trembled around him, and Bill's cock thickened with each stroke. His slow, steady arousal built and built the more Teddy gasped, moving against the sheets and arching back against Bill's thrusts.

"You're making me hard again," groaned Teddy, mashing his face into the pillow. "Oh my God."

Sliding one arm around his waist, Bill hauled him up once more. He increased his pace as Teddy whimpered, one hand flying to his prick again. Bill held him up with strong hands anchored on Teddy's hips, pulling him back onto Bill's cock over and over again. "This what you wanted, flirting with me every damn day?" Bill managed, his heart pounding and sweat tingling at his temples.

"More than I imagined," Teddy said with a breathless laugh. "This what you wanted," he added, glancing back over his shoulder, "watching my arse every day?" He clenched around Bill's prick, and Bill choked out a moan, bruising Teddy's hips with whitened fingers.

"More than I imagined," he managed just before he came. With a low groan, he slammed into Teddy one more time and came hard, his dick pulsing deep inside Teddy's body. Teddy jerked himself frantically, his eyes squeezed shut, and Bill held him close with his prick still pulsing in Teddy's arse as Teddy came a second time. Dribbling over his fist, he collapsed against Bill's chest, panting.

Bill withdrew slowly, watching Teddy for signs of pain. He saw only a dreamy, measured bliss on Teddy's face, and he bit back a smile. There was nothing quite like being present for a young man's first experience with the orgasm of his life, he decided.

"Good?" he said quietly, turning Teddy towards him, and Teddy just laughed, throwing his arms around Bill and kissing him silent.

***

It continued for a solid year at that intensity, and another after that in a more sporadic capacity. That was still several months longer than Fleur wished it had gone on, Bill knew, but Teddy met needs he didn't even know he had. Eighteen, then nineteen, with that beautiful ability to let Bill in on everything he was feeling, every single time – it was a difficult thing, knowing when to let go.

***

"Hey, stranger."

Bill glanced over as someone sidled up beside him, handing him a fresh glass of wine. He set his empty glass on the bar behind him and grinned. "Hey, yourself."

Teddy slung an arm over his shoulder and pecked him on the cheek. "Now what on earth would a curmudgeonly old paper pusher like you be doing at a Ministry shindig like this?"

"A few too many Aurors in the family," said Bill, knocking Teddy's arm off his shoulder with a good-natured shrug and taking a sip of his drink. He hated Ministry galas, to be sure, but they were harder to get out of when Harry was the guest of honour.

"Ah, of course. And another in the making, perhaps?" He lifted his glass to gesture across the room at Harry's sons, joking and laughing together and reminding Bill all too much of himself and Charlie at that age.

"Not Al," said Bill. "He's afraid of flying. Maybe James, if he gets enough N.E.W.T.s this year."

When he glanced over at Teddy again, his eyes widened. Teddy was staring absently across the room, his fingers moving up at down the stem of his wineglass in a slow slide while his lips parted and a rush of colour crept up his neck. "Yeah," he murmured. "Maybe James."

Bill followed Teddy's gaze. He couldn't quite see more than just another gangly nephew, but he tried to see what Teddy seemed to: a young man who had filled out quite a bit in the past year, seventeen years old and at the height of his young Quidditch career. As they looked on, James came up for breath after tussling with Al, laughing and fresh-faced. He caught Teddy's eye and flashed him a wide smile, but then blushed and ducked his head down again. Bill eyed Teddy from the side.

"Don't look at me like that," said Teddy, giving Bill a pointed look. "He's not a little kid anymore."

"I've created a monster, I see." Bill peered into his wineglass, suddenly wishing it were whisky.

"Hardly." Teddy laughed. "But every young man should have someone older and wiser to show him the ropes, don't you think?" He nudged his shoulder against Bill's.

Bill glanced over at him, and for a moment, he almost saw the Teddy of seven years ago, impossibly young and inexperienced and with eyes only for Bill. When he blinked again, though, that Teddy was gone. Now he was older and wiser himself. "I never did, and I turned out all right," he muttered.

"That you did." Teddy tilted his head to the side, his voice soft. "Did you ever find yourself another after me?"

Bill met his gaze for a long moment before shaking his head. "Nah." He cleared his throat. "Just you, kid. You're a tough act to follow, as you very well know."

Grinning at him, Teddy raised his glass. "Cheers to following my act, then."

Bill barked out a laugh. "Yeah. Right."

Teddy's gaze wandered back to James, and Bill sighed, shaking his head.

"I wouldn't tell his father, if I were you."

"Oh, I don't plan to." Teddy shot him a grin over the rim of his wineglass. "Although," he added, leaning in closer to Bill and nodding almost imperceptibly, "his father might not want to throw stones from that glass house of his." He gave Bill a meaningful look and his shoulder a quick squeeze before drifting away.

When he was alone again, Bill scanned the crowd until his gaze landed on Harry. Although Harry was ostensibly engaged in conversation with several Ministry higher-ups, Bill could see his eye wandering elsewhere in the room. When it stopped roving, a look of pure, naked hunger passed over his face. Bill glanced at the other end of the bar, following the path of Harry's gaze, and found a young – oh, Harry, was he ever young, not much older than Al from the looks of it – blond thing sitting sullenly at the bar, tugging at the too-high collar of his robes and glancing none-too-subtly back at Harry every few seconds. His robes bore a rather famous family crest.

Bill slowly shifted his gaze back to Harry. Five minutes, he saw him mouth at the blond, mashing his lips together and dropping his eyes after he did so.

Well, Bill decided as he finished his wine and drifted back to the crowd to look for Fleur, there was something to be said for the Wizarding world's many, and varied, traditions.



-fin-



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