This story is dedicated to PrincessPearl, and it was written in response to the HO January 5th prompt.

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"Thou robb'st my days of business and delights,
Of sleep thou robb'st my nights;
Ah, lovely thief, what wilt thou do?
What? rob me of heaven too?"

-Abraham Cowley, 'The Thief'

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Girls like her were almost always one of a kind in a family, a generation. Maybe it was because it was so rare for everything that went into making a child – all that aching humanity left over after a war – to produce something so sunny and bright, but girls like Lily Luna Potter were rare. And so it galled her that not only was she not exceptional, but that she was the second such girl to have been born into the extended Weasley family. It didn't matter that Rose was the real brain in the family, or that Dominique was the only Slytherin. It didn't matter that Molly was the kindest by nature, or that Roxanne was the funniest; the rivalry had always been between her and Victoire. Always.

From the beginning, Lily was used to being complimented for her good looks – it was something that she had used to define herself.

Victoire was a little more beautiful – just a little bit, with her Veela heritage – and they both knew it, which was fine because Lily was the more charismatic of the two, the more passionate.

Lily had inherited a portion of her parents' fame – this was undeniable. And she knew instinctively how to make people love her. Victoire, on the other hand, didn't even have to try. They were drawn to her, the child of Bill and Fleur, whether or not she encouraged it. And Victoire never did – her greatest weapon.

Victoire, the golden first-born.

Lily Luna, the fiery little baby of the family.

It was an equal match and a consuming rivalry. They loved one another like sisters – hated like sisters, too. And, most importantly, they always understood one another; two sides of the same coin, the basis of their bond.

What bothered Lily was that although they were evenly matched, he had chosen Victoire. Teddy, whom she had adored her entire life, hadn't even noticed because of a girl with long legs and a French accent once removed, a girl who for as long as she could remember could barely even spare the energy to smile at Teddy. Lily had put down the hearts she had been juggling, stopped toying with people, and simply let herself love him. And he hadn't even noticed, hadn't even looked at the best of her – those lazy grins were for Victoire.

That bitterness had stayed with Lily, spreading inside her like a sickness until every thought and feeling had been infected by Teddy and Victoire. It defied all logic. He was odd and she was perfect. He was chaos and she was order. And yet there they were before her at every family gathering, whenever Teddy came to her house for dinner: Teddy and Victoire. Hand in hand, all shy smiles and kisses with the power to stop the earth from turning.

And Lily hated it.

She had always been quick to anger, but every time she looked at them together, she saw red. She despised Victoire for being just as good as her, and for being better.

Worse, she hated Victoire for knowing how she had felt about Teddy, and for the satisfaction in her eyes as she watched Lily seethe in silence. There was also an underlying warning: he's mine. Victoire sensed the threat.

So, she had chosen to bide her time. She made sure that always, whenever Victoire and all of the comparisons were out of sight, that it was her by Teddy's side – forced him to notice her.

"What do you think of these strawberries, Teddy? They're fresh from our garden." Lily pushed the bowl across the table, ignoring the way he drummed his fingers on the table, waiting for Victoire to come back.

"They're small and they're red – just like you." He spared her a distracted, big-brother smile – the kind her childhood had revolved around – and popped one into his mouth with a kind of carelessness. The fruit had been sweet and refreshing, as she had known. Now he was looking straight at her. His eyes were bright blue, like the sky, to match his hair. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Lily had been right – she hadn't experienced a single problem as she had infiltrated Teddy's thoughts and dreams. There was the occasional surge of affection for Victoire, who counter-balanced her, accompanied by the knowledge that she was going to sour Victoire's ultimate triumph over her. It was a bittersweet thought, but a delicious one.

So she had finished weaving the net to trap Teddy with and waited with the cunning of a hunter – waited to filch that-perfect-moment from Victoire and to spoil every last one of them that were scattered through her cousin's future with Teddy. Lily didn't have enough influence to pull them apart. It was a fact and she accepted it. She did, however, have the strength to sabotage it.

"I don't want to take you away from her, you know." It was a lie, but Lily knew that the truth made her vulnerable. She stepped closer to Teddy, who was watching her guardedly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The tremor in his husky voice was what betrayed him. Lily smiled, almost tender; after all, this was her moment with the boy she loved.

"Really?" Pressed against him, she tilted her head upwards. Lily could feel Teddy's breath on her skin.

Then Teddy's hands were on his waist, his mouth crashing urgently against hers, hands fumbling, teeth biting. Lily sighed. If it was always this wonderful, she understood all over again why he meant so much to even vapid Victoire. It was as though the quiet noise had awoken the loyalty that had lain dormant inside him.

"Lily, stop it. Stop! If you breathe one word of this to Victoire -"

"Then what, Teddy?" She'll leave you – that's what. The unspoken words hung between them.

Lily had left him standing there, in the garden, her stolen kiss on her mouth like a brand. She didn't bother to look back either, because regrets achieved nothing. And every time she saw them together, Teddy and Victoire, she took a malicious pleasure in the way that his hand would always snake around her, too tight, and his voice would be filled with mirth to compensate for the guilt blocking the back of his throat.

Of course, Lily could taste it too. When she did, she would lick her lips as though to remind him, and watch as Teddy struggled to remain calm as Victoire sat beside him, not quite as oblivious as he thought – and this was the pleasure that sweetened the theft.

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