Fic: The Birth Of The Cool

[isola-lives.livejournal.com]

I come bearing yet another Teddy Lupin story.  I've got them in droves, sad really.  This one was my first.

Title: The Birth of the Cool
Author: isola_lives 
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: A young Teddy Lupin explores the awesomeness that is, well, him!
Apologies to Miles Davis for stealing your album title.  Borrowing.  I do adore you, sir, and madly.  Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Merlin, Teddy Lupin is cool. 

 

Just look at him, with his crazy hair, his wicked fashions, and his chiseled jaw line.  Well, maybe not quite chiseled, really, but with just a bit of… there.  Chiseled.  He gets a lot of crap for being so amazingly, jaw droppingly awesome.  Old ladies, sweet and truly wonderful as they are, tell him to keep his hair civilised or he’ll never amount to anything.  How wrong they are. 

 

Because Teddy Lupin is a bloody rock star.  Oh yes, that’s right, just look at him wail on that guitar, peeling out Weird Sisters licks like they’re nothing.  Virtuoso.  He’s the most popular musician in the whole Wizarding world, from the UK all the way around to Russia!  Going the long way, through the States, not just cutting across Europe.

 

Except when he’s singing.  He’s got the voice of an angel.  A very hard core, arena rocking angel!  Oh, but the ladies go wild.  Those mad birds are always coming up to him, throwing themselves, really, wild with praise and adoration.

 

“Oh Teddy, you’re so wonderful”

“Yes, ladies, yes I know”

“Oh Teddy, how do you do it?  How can you be so manly and rugged and… fit?”

“Family secret, my dear birdlings, I cannot tell”

“Oh please, Teddy, please won’t you share?  We want to shower you with kisses, you’re so wonderful!”

“Well fine then, I will tell you.  Werewolves, my lovelies.  Your dear Teddy…. Ted.  Your dear Ted is the son of a werewolf.  Not to fear, he’s no danger to society.  Except for when he is, being a rock star and all.  But he is no animal.  Except when, you know, he needs to be.  Yeah… Rowr.   Rrrrrrrrawr.  Grrrrrrr. Awooo!  Grrrrrwwwwoooww—“

 

“THEODORE!”

 

“Merlin, Gram, do you ever knock?”

“Theodore, you are supposed to be getting ready for Kings Cross.”

“Gram, I was, I was just…”

“Just doing a lot of foolishness is what you were doing, always dancing and preening in front of your mirror like some kind of maniac.”

“I… wasn’t preening, Gram.  Really…”

“Trunk, owl, robes on now.  And Theodore, do change your hair to something civilised, I’ll not have you going through London with me looking like some kind of hooligan.  Orange was never your mother’s colour, nor is it yours.  You’re fourteen now, it is time you started acting a bit more mature.  Come along.”

  .