Author's Notes: Written for the 1H option of Lady Phoenix Fire Rose's One Hour Challenge on the HPFC forum with the pairing Teddy/Molly II and the prompt "Why am I here?". Also for mmom on Livejournal.
Contains masturbation and exhibitionism/possible voyeurism. Enjoy!
Molly lay on her bed, one foot stuck out in front of her while Rose meticulously applied dabs of henna to her ankle and the other tucked under herself. She gazed out the window, down into the gardens.
Even on the hottest days of summer, when any sensible person would have been in the shade, it seemed like the entire Weasley family – short of Molly herself, and Rose, was outside in the sun. With the window open, Molly could hear the conversations below.
"I don't care if he's a Slytherin! I'm a Slytherin, remember?" Lily was shouting, probably at either Uncle Harry or Uncle Ron, and probably about Scorpius Malfoy. There had been a massive fight over him that had run more or less consistently for the last year and a half, between Lily, her parents, and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. Molly took great pleasure in watching it unfold.
"It's not that he's a Slytherin, it's that he's a Malfoy!" Albus put in, in the annoying, high-pitched whine he used when he wanted to get a point across. Molly winced, shifting a little to get a better view of the garden.
"You stay out of this!" Lily ordered. Hugo grabbed Albus's arm and pulled him away from Lily and Harry.
"What's it matter if he's a Malfoy?" asked Roxanne. She was lying on her back, just below Molly's window, idly conjuring bubbles with her wand. "It's not as though she's sleeping with Draco – not that I'd put it past–"
"You shut up too!" Molly smirked at the colour of her cousin's face, quite as red as her hair – a few rumours of Lily's promiscuity had reached ears that listened.
"Oh honestly," Aunt Hermione said impatiently, throwing Harry an exasperated look. "She's not going to stop seeing him as long as you tell her not to."
"Right, of course," Uncle Ron broke in. "We should just stand by and let her–"
"I'm done," Rose said, prodding Molly's leg with the end of her henna brush. "Do you like it?"
Molly shook herself, looking away from the drama unfolding outside, and raised her leg above her head, swivelling her ankle to examine it from all angles. Her entire leg was covered in a pattern of lions – for Gryffindor pride, though she had little – skilfully rendered in tiny, delicate lines.
"Great job," she complimented, trying not to smudge the paste. Rose sat back, beaming.
"It'll dry pretty soon," she said. "Then you should go show it off to everyone."
"I'll be sure to tell them you did it," Molly told her, and Rose grinned.
"I'll just go out and eat, then, if you don't mind," she said brightly, heading for the door. Molly nodded, letting her cousin go, then turned and rested her chin on the windowsill, staring out at everyone.
Lily and Uncle Harry had settled into mutinous silence now, and Molly allowed her eyes to wander past them, onto the person who she had been doing her best to avoid looking ever since he'd turned up.
Teddy Lupin was the only person who attended Weasley family get-togethers who hadn't a drop of Weasley blood in him. He was as close as anyone could be to family.
The fact that he was not quite family did make Molly feel a little less guilty when she thought about him.
He was sitting on the grass beside Victoire, fanning himself with a paperback book and chatting with her. Molly closed one eye and turned her head so that she wouldn't have to see Victoire.
She rested one arm on the sill and her chin on her arm, and gazed at him. In his jeans and rumpled, button-down shirt, Molly thought that he looked the perfect blend of respectable and relaxed.
Her hand was against her crotch before she had even realized it.
Perhaps she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a bulge in the front of his trousers – a pretty sizable one too, a lot bigger than the other ones she'd seen. Probably because Victoire was draping herself all over him…
No, Molly decided, as long as she was fantasizing, she might as well think that Teddy was thinking about her. That bulge in the front of his trousers was because of her, and he was doing everything he could to keep his eyes on Victoire…
She squeezed at herself and felt wetness in her shorts. Staring out the window, she thought she caught Teddy glancing up at her – did he know what she was doing?
Her hand pressed a little harder against her mound, and then up and down her slit, which she could feel through the rapidly moistening fabric. There were some benefits of wearing shorts two sizes too small for you – then made fingering yourself so much easier.
Her clit pulsed a little, and she bit on her lip to stifle a groan, rubbing it as hard as she could and pulling her denim shorts back and forth, up and down her slit. Her face must have been bright red, and she hoped Teddy was looking at her. She hoped that he'd realize what she was doing and excuse himself, come up to her room and rip off her shorts – and smudge all Rose's hard work, thought the small, rational part of Molly's mind that just refused to leave her alone – and fuck her until she screamed loud enough for everyone to hear.
Teddy shifted a little and, oh yes, that was definitely an erection he was sporting there. And he wasn't even looking at Victoire's tits.
Molly's hand snapped automatically to her own chest. She had yet to grow big enough to fill out a bra, but that was fine by her – it meant that people who wanted to look could see her chest so much better.
She hoped Teddy wanted to look…
In a moment of hormone-fuelled madness, Molly grabbed her too-large, rather sheer shirt and yanked it over her head, thanking god that most of the people in the garden were looking away from the house.
Not Teddy, though – and through the open window, he must have had a perfect look at her bare chest.
Molly rocked against her hand, yanking on her hard, rosy nipples – give Teddy a proper show – and then–
"Oh, fuck," she whispered, and madness overtook her entirely. She rose up onto her knees so that her crotch was just high enough above the windowsill that Teddy would be able to see it, and came.
Her knickers filled with her hot juices, and she almost cried from sheer pleasure, bucking against her hand. She looked down, and saw a wet stain spreading over her shorts, soaking the fabric, dripping from her centre and running down her legs into a puddle on the bed. Her face turned bright red, and she fell back onto the bed, squeezing her thighs tightly together as the realization of what she had done hit her.
She had a vague memory of a few years back, listening to Lily and Rose exchange giggly advice in the next room, when Lily had relayed a story about fingering herself while some boy watched. Molly hadn't ever even begun to consider that she might do something like that.
But it had felt so good.
She chanced a peek over the sill at Teddy, who had turned back to Victoire, and Molly felt a wave of rage at herself and her stupid, slutty, Lily-ish behaviour.
What am I doing in here? She silently demanded. Do I really expect him to like a girl who's been giving him a fucking striptease better than one who actually talks to him? Why am I in here fucking myself when I could be out chatting him up?
Because I'm a coward.