Harry Potter 1. Five

Five.

Teddy is five. He is aware that something is not as usual, but he does not know what. He is at Grimmauld Place following Ginny around the house, watching her carefully. She moves very slowly, and she doesn't look as cheerful as she usually is. Over the last few times he has been to visit, Teddy has noticed she has been getting rather large. He is desperate to ask her what she has been eating to get so big but he knows his Grandmother would be terribly embarrassed if he asked such a question- after all, he knows it would be considered rude, even if he does not mean it to be so. He's just a bit worried about her. When people are worried about him, they ask him if he wants to play a game.

"Ginny," He asks her. "Do you want to play Hide and Seek?"

She looks at Teddy sadly. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don't think I would be much fun to play with right now."

He watches her sit carefully on the sofa in the living room. "You see, I think it would be very difficult for me to hide anywhere!" She points to her stomach and forces a smile at Teddy, but he does not smile back. He thinks she looks ill, and it makes him sad. "You could play with Harry when he gets home, though. He shouldn't be long. Why don't you go and try to find the best hiding places now?" Teddy does as he is told, and as he leaves the living room he sees the House-elf running down the stairs. He follows it into the kitchen. From the doorway he sees it run into a smaller room off to the side, and opposite the pantry. As Teddy peers around he can no longer see the elf, but he can see a dingy door in the corner, underneath the boiler. He imagines it is quite a spacious little cupboard behind the door, and decides that it would be a very good hiding place, if only he had someone to hide from.

A little while later Harry does indeed arrive home. Teddy has continued on his quest for a decent hiding place and has reached the library, so when he hears the front door open he dives behind the curtains by the window. It is not an excellent place to hide, he thinks, but it will do at such short notice. Usually, when he and Ginny have been playing, Harry would immediately join in the game as soon as he arrived home.

But on this particular occasion, however, they do not play Hide and Seek. They call Teddy down to the living room and sit him on the sofa. Ginny sits beside him, whilst Harry crouches in front. They tell him, very seriously, that they are going to have a baby.

"Would you like that, Teddy? Someone to play with? He'll be like your little brother." Harry asks.

"Will you help us look after him?" Adds Ginny.

Teddy nods. He does not know what this has to do with Hide and Seek.

By the time Teddy is six, something has definitely changed. He has moped about his Grandmother's house and has not been allowed to visit Harry for what seems like a long time, due to something his Grandmother refers to as 'James'. For the life of him he cannot work out what all the fuss is about.

But, after three very long weeks, Harry appears. He tells Teddy that he wants him to come round to his house to meet this 'James'.

When he arrives, he quickly removes his shoes and places them beside the fireplace. He holds his Grandmother's hand and she leads him to Ginny, who is sitting carefully on the sofa with a huge bundle of blankets in her arms. She looks a lot happier now, Teddy decides. He is allowed to look into the blankets and he can make out a tiny, squashed face within them. He frowns. He finds it very strange that Ginny would be holding the house-elf like that, but he is told that this is James.

Teddy makes the connection that 'the baby', 'James' and 'the brother' are the same thing, and he is disappointed. He is still not entirely sure what a brother is, but since Harry told him he would be gaining something that would be like one, he had been quite excited to find out. He thought it sounded fun. He knows Ginny has a lot of brothers, and he cannot decide whether they are a good thing. This brother does not seem to be half as much fun as Ginny's brothers, and Teddy hasn't actually seen it _do _anything yet, apart from wriggle in the blankets. As he watches everyone absorbed with the odd little thing, and as he is continually made to look at it, he still isn't sure.

Teddy notices a gift bag resting beside the armchair he is sitting on. He knows it is rude to poke around in the bag, as it is not his, and due to the pale blue colour and pictures of bottles and rattles on it Teddy guesses it is for the baby. But rather peculiarly, the gift inside the bag is not suitable for babies at all- it is a book. He checks no one is watching and pulls it from the bag- after all this book is his brother's, he reasons, and brothers share. The book is filled with colourful pictures and large words printed on each page. He finds it an odd present for a baby- Teddy knows they can't read. But Teddy can. He isn't a brilliant reader yet, but he knows that practice makes perfect, and he thinks this will probably be far more interesting than a baby. Opening the book to the first page and resting it in his lap, he begins to slowly read the story of the Quidditch Keeper's Lunch.


	2. Five: Part Two

Part Two.

It is sitting in the living room of Grimmauld Place, watching a number of supposed grown-ups offer wide eyed, exaggerated smiles to a tiny baby, that Ron suddenly does not feel as old as he thinks he should.

Not for the first time since his little sister and best friend began discussing baby-proofing, feeding schedules and the general rearing of another very tiny, very dependent human being, he feels far too young.

The trouble with being best friends with The Chosen One is that sometimes Ron has felt that he was launched into adulthood very quickly. He has sacrificed himself in a game of dangerous, life-sized wizard chess, walked freely into a colony of acromantula, followed Harry into the Chamber of Secrets to save his sister, he has stood up to a dangerous Azkaban escapee, been poisoned, destroyed Horcruxes and watched family and friends die before his eyes, all before his nineteenth birthday.

Now, he's a qualified Auror, he catches dark wizards, for Merlin's sake- but he does not feel grown up enough to even consider looking after a baby.

The baby is three weeks old, and Ron has already met his nephew, but everyone has been invited round to Grimmauld Place today because it is the first time Teddy will see the baby. Everyone seems to think it will be good for Teddy to have another child around. Ron remembers when they said this before Victoire was born, but they saw little of each other, and by the time Victoire was old enough to play with Teddy, Dominique had already been born.

Ron can see Teddy sitting cautiously in the armchair beside the fireplace. He is carefully studying something resting open in his lap. He looks up and frowns a little at the gathering of people cooing over the baby, but he nods politely when his Grandmother asks him whether he is okay.

Teddy is far too polite. His manners at the dinner table are impeccable- he has been taught to use his cutlery correctly, his Grandmother scolds him should his elbow find its way onto the table during mealtimes, he knows to cut bread rolls at breakfast and break them open at dinner, he places his knife and fork together when he has finished his meal. He is courteous, he never forgets to ask 'how are you?' and to say please and thank you, he does not ignore people if they speak to him. He removes his shoes before entering someone's house, he helps his Grandmother when she asks for it and he tidies up after himself. He is not boisterous or loud like some children can be. They have often joked that Teddy skipped childhood altogether, and arrived in the world a ready-made adult. Sometimes he will turn up for tea at Ron's parents' house, dressed in a sweater vest or cardigan, his hair neatly parted, and inform them that, 'oh, it is rather chilly out there!'. Sometimes he will refer to things using names he has obviously heard his Grandmother use. He has had to grow up quickly, though, and as his Grandmother is his primary guardian it is difficult for him to be a child. Even now, when he does not fully understand why his parents aren't around, Teddy does not smile very much.

Ron guesses he has about as much interest in the baby as Teddy. It has been the only topic of conversation between everyone for months, and even Hermione has mentioned it more times than Ron cares to remember. He whispers something to Andromeda, before taking Teddy's hand and leading him outside- once Teddy has collected his discarded shoes from beside the fire- where they spin quickly on the spot, disappearing, and leaving Grimmauld Place, the rest of the family, and especially the baby, behind.

They arrive in a sunny field, with a lake at the very end, and great trees casting shade along the grass. They blink, the sudden shafts of light stinging their eyes, not yet accustomed after the sudden apparition. Many people are lying below the tree's branches, out of the sun.

"Ron!" Teddy whispers shrilly at him. "My hair!" The little boy points to his head, which is completely hat-less.

"It's okay. This is a wizard park!" He reassures Teddy.

He leads him down a well walked gravel path, along the edge of the field. A large number of witches and wizards are gathered around a small wooden hut with a pointed roof, precariously leaning a little to one side, at the end of the path. It is an ice-cream hut, selling all sorts of wondrous flavours- candyfloss, pumpkin, marshmellow, marmalade, earwax, a Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans flavoured ice-cream which Ron could never work out.

As the two wait in line, Ron catches Teddy's hair slowly changing to a deep tomato red colour. It almost matches Ron's, and he wonders if it is intentional. His hair colour is something Teddy can change easily, even if he finds it difficult to keep it the chosen colour, but sometimes his eyes changes as well, and freckles appear across his cheeks, but they are far less noticeable.

He lets Teddy choose his own flavour. Teddy marvels at the fact Ron always seems to have spare sickles in his pockets, and the two accept their ice-cream cones from the seller and sit upon a small corner of the grass nearby, and enjoy the dying sun of the late-afternoon. It is not too hot anymore and it makes for a pleasant atmosphere.

The ice-cream cone seems so much larger in Teddy's small hands, and Ron remembers when he would be brought here along with the rest of his siblings, often by his parents, but sometimes by Bill or Charlie when they were old enough, when his father was busy at work and his mother was busy with baby Ginny.

"What did you think of James?" Ron asks Teddy.

"He seems a bit… boring." Teddy admits, and Ron laughs.

"Yeah, I guess he does." He agrees. "What were you reading earlier?"

"The Quidditch Keeper's Lunch." Teddy recalls in one quick sentence.

"I've read that!" Ron remembers. "Merlin, that's a classic! Did you like it?"

Teddy nods enthusiastically and takes another bite of his ice-cream.

"My favourite part is the bit where Hamish the Kneazle is put in the basket to protect the lunch from the Augurey!"

"I didn't read that far. I didn't get to finish it."

"Oh, well, I'm sure Harry will let you borrow it some time."

"Hmm." Teddy murmurs.

"Where did you read to?"

Teddy tells Ron about the beginning of the book which he did manage to read, and Ron fills him in quickly on the book's ending, his story soon becoming much more elaborate and eccentric than the original. He guesses that Teddy suspects this, especially as Ron reaches the part with the dragon, which is slayed by a mysterious new character by the name of Ron. If he does have his suspicions however, Teddy does not disturb Ron, and by the end Ron rather suspects his version to be far superior to the one in the book.

He reaches the end of his epic tale, only to see that Teddy has lost interest and returned to contently eating his ice-cream. Ron, a little too adept at the Confundus charm, takes hold of his wand in his pocket and quietly casts the spell on an oblivious Teddy. Before Teddy realises, his nose has been dunked forward, and a mess of ice-cream is smothered on the end. His eyes open wide in shock.

Ron can't help but laugh. He's not sure whether he should be laughing at the little boy's misfortune, but the shocked look on his face is far too funny. "What did you do that for?" Ron teases, through breaths of laughter.

But Teddy, always far too clever for his age, spies Ron's hand upon his wand. "Hey!" He cries indignantly before, rather unexpectedly, he grins, an extremely toothy smile spreading across his ice-cream covered face. He begins to giggle, and Ron points his wand at Teddy's face, the ice-cream disappearing. And Ron can't say what it is- maybe it is just that Teddy's smile, so very rare, is so damn contagious- that he finds himself smiling too. Teddy is still laughing as he goes back to eating his ice-cream, which is beginning to melt down the cone and all over his hand, and for the first time, Ron thinks he looks like any other six year old boy.


	3. Eight

Eight.

Teddy is eight. "Grandma. I'm bored." He is in his Grandmother's dining room. She is sat at the table, and he is stood in the doorway. He pulls subconsciously on the sleeve of his jumper, and catches a loose thread. He toys with it between his fingers.

"Not now Teddy." His Grandmother writes something on a small piece of parchment. She sounds exasperated.

"Are you sure you can't play gobstones with me?" He pulls the thread a little. It tugs the threads of his jumper further up his wrist.

"Teddy I really am busy at the moment. Perhaps later." His Grandmother replies firmly. Teddy's Grandmother is not strict, but sometimes, she isn't a lot of fun. It is something Teddy has seen in a lot of adults. When they are busy, they have little patience with him. He thinks, not for the first time, that it would be nice to have a brother. A brother would mean someone to play Quidditch with, climb trees with, chase nargles around the garden with, sneak biscuits from the tin with. Perhaps they would have more chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties and cockroach clusters in the house. A brother, he thinks, would not get bored of him.

It would even be nice to have a friend. But they live in a heavily muggle populated area, and he is not allowed to become friends with any of the children that live nearby in case he lets something slip or his hair accidently changes colour- he still can't control it all the time. He has not started at Hogwarts yet, so he has no school friends to invite round.

He likes his Grandmother, but she is not very good at flying or climbing or running or being silly. Once again he wonders if his father would have been good at these things. Harry is good at flying, and Ron is good at being silly. He has often sat listening to Ginny read bedtime stories to James, and although he says he is too old for stories, he still wonders if his mother would be good at telling them. Hermione is clever; she can answer all of his questions and Teddy is sure she knows every counter-curse there is. Perhaps his mother would be this clever as well, he thinks.

"Do you want to floo over to Harry's?" His grandmother asks him absentmindedly. She is still writing, but she is crossing something out neatly.

Teddy shifts his weight uneasily between his feet. "Harry is always busy with the baby now." The nib of his Grandmother's quill snaps.

"Babies are very demanding." It is dismissive. It signals the end of the conversation. Teddy has not liked going to Harry's recently. The new baby cries a lot, and Ginny is always fussing over it, and Harry tries his hardest to pay attention to Teddy but sometimes he feels like he gets in the way. James is made to look at the baby and hold the baby and help care for the baby. Teddy had wanted to hold the baby the last time he went over, but he had had a cold, and he was not allowed to in case the baby caught his cold. Instead, he watched from the doorway as James held it. James was once Teddy's partner in crime. But now he has a little brother. James doesn't like sharing the attention; he's naughty and he locks the house-elf in cupboards and he pokes the new baby, which makes him cry even more, and which makes Ginny cross. Teddy knows he shouldn't annoy the baby, so he does not get involved. Instead he frees the house-elf from the cupboard. He doesn't know why he does it- the house-elf has never wanted to be his friend. He thinks it would even be nice to have a house-elf.

"I'll set up the gobstones for when we play later." He says quietly. Teddy shuffles out of the dining room and up the stairs to his bedroom. He does not find the gobstones, though. He knows that 'later' in his Grandmother's world will never come. Later, she will take him to the park down the road. Later, she will go to the shops to buy the biscuits that he likes. Later, she will tell him about his parents. Later, they will play gobstones.

Not for the first time, he finds himself stood in front of his bookcase, surveying the titles printed on the well-worn spines. He picks one at random. It is The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts by Arsenius Jigger. He has read parts of it before. He sits with it on his bed, and turns to a random page. It is on Red Caps. He hasn't read about these before. He can't wait to learn about them at Hogwarts. He can't wait to _go_ to Hogwarts.


	4. Eight: Part Two

Part Two.

It is not easy raising a child of war; of this, Andromeda Tonks is sure. It is certainly not easy raising a child, and it is even more difficult raising a _grandchild_, but raising a child of war is altogether something else.

Not a day goes by when Andromeda does not look at her Grandson and think of her daughter's deathly cold corpse, destroyed by Andromeda's own sister, lying beside her son-in-law, face stony and pale, both marred with dried blood, dirt and scars. More peaceful in death that ever in life.

They are the heroes of the crusade, the fatalities of the massacre. It doesn't matter what they are, though; to Andromeda, they are the dead. They are the ones she has cried herself to sleep at night thinking about, they are the ones whose last moments, in the midst of the bloodbath, she has imagined over and over, they are the ones whose happiness was ripped away from them, they are the ones it shouldn't have happened to, the ones who didn't deserve it. As if anyone does, of course. Andromeda wonders if that is a very Slytherin way to think, but if it is, she doesn't care. They didn't deserve it.

They are the ones whose child wakes up every day waiting patiently to hear a story he will never be told about what exactly happened to his parents. Now, they pass it off as being far too much for someone so young to hear, but in truth, no one can bring themselves to tell it.

Andromeda has already raised a child; her beautiful, dead, child. Never did she think she would find herself doing it again, alone, and it is altogether more difficult that she ever thought. Teddy may be her Grandson, but it is hard to raise a child that is not her own. She finds herself questioning her every action, wondering whether it would be what her daughter and son-in-law would want. She cannot help but instil in Teddy impeccable manners, she ensures he always looks clean and tidy, he speaks well and does not drop his t's or h's. She wants to raise him well; she wants to make her child proud.

Yet despite everything she cannot help but notice Teddy's melancholy. She cannot help but notice how Teddy is content to eat breakfast alone, how Teddy is content to wander around the small back garden alone, how Teddy is content to read books alone. And she cannot help but notice that Teddy does not smile very much.

She can offer Teddy very little. She cannot offer extravagant gifts or spontaneous daytrips. She is too old to play Quidditch or run around the park. She cannot fix everything like daddies can. She cannot offer him the solace of a mother's hug. She can, however, provide love, and she offers Teddy all the love in the world, for it is the best part, and the part she gives most willingly. Teddy will never know what it is like to have parents, but he _will_ know what it is like to have family.

Andromeda will offer anything she can. Today, in a desperate bid to cheer him up, she is throwing him a party. It is not his birthday, nor is it any kind of special occasion at all, but she wants to do something nice for him, and a picnic in the kitchen seems just the thing. It would be in the garden were it not raining, so they must make do with the magical foliage sprouting from the ceiling.

Picnics require sandwiches and sausage rolls and fizzy soda and cakes. Andromeda absolutely does not consider herself a baker- far from it. It is a notorious trait, and one her whole family seemed to share. She is a perfectly adept cook, but baking is apparently a skill which eludes members of the noble and most ancient house of Black. Unsurprisingly.

And so it is that she finds herself graciously accepting Harry's offer to borrow his house-elf for the afternoon. Harry had been very insistent, and would not take no for an answer. He assured Andromeda it was just because his house-elf could make an excellent Treacle Tart, but she was not so sure. After half an hour of listening to his grumbling, she couldn't wait to send him back.

But she would put up with it all twice over just to see Teddy's face light up when he came into the kitchen.

There are no guests at the picnic except his Grandmother and Harry's house-elf. Harry and Ginny are looking after the children, who have been suffering with a bout of illness, and Ron and Hermione are busy with their new baby.

But Teddy does not seem to notice. His eyes feast hungrily on the selection of party food on offer; the triangle sandwiches, the sausage rolls, the scotch eggs, the crisps, the dainty cakes, the meticulously decorated biscuits.

"Are those biscuits _homemade_, Grandma?!" He asks incredulously. Andromeda gestures towards the elf as she takes a seat opposite him at the table. "Can I have one now?"

At Andromeda's simple nod, Teddy eyes her suspiciously. "What?" He asks. "Before any sandwiches?" Andromeda simply laughs in response.

Teddy's eyes sparkle at the array of picnic food across the table. "Wow!" he tells her, chewing happily on a biscuit. She does not tell him off for speaking with his mouth full- he knows not to do it, but he is just caught up in the excitement of everything. She finds the situation laughable. His excitement at such a simple thing as a picnic tea is so innocent that she momentarily forgets everything they have suffered. Once again she finds herself silently thanking anyone who will listen for her blessing- her brilliant, blue-haired blessing.

She takes the time to appreciate her grandson. She would have fallen apart after the war if it wasn't for him, she is convinced. She asks him questions and she listens to his replies.

She works out that he has not been to Harry's for several weeks, and she feels awful when she realises she has been so busy lately that she hadn't noticed. Teddy was once fascinated with Harry; when James was born, however, he began to visit less frequently, and now with Albus's arrival Teddy's has barely seen Harry.

Teddy must find it difficult to share something that wasn't even his to begin with.

Andromeda asks Teddy about James, and the house-elf begins to grumble under his breath at the mention of his name.

"He's too young to play Quidditch and he doesn't understand Gobstones and he spends most of his time sulking!" Teddy tells her.

"I'm sure he would learn to understand Gobstones, Teddy," Andromeda replies, "if you didn't cheat all the time!" She does not wish to encourage cheating, but she is not really reprimanding Teddy for it. She finds it endearing- just a bit of harmless fun. It is a mischievous streak that she has been told his father had.

Teddy smirks cheekily, flashing Andromeda a wide, toothy smile. And Andromeda doesn't know what it is- perhaps it is just that despite its scarcity, Teddy's smile is so damn contagious- that she finds herself smiling fondly back at him. As she watches Teddy reach into the bowl of crisps and eat them straight from the dish, before pushing it under the house-elf's nose to offer him some, Andromeda thinks it is nice to see him looking like any other eight year old boy.


	5. Ten

Ten.

Teddy is ten. He is old enough now to go to the park by himself. His Grandmother, if she sits in her living room window, can see the grassy field opposite their house, so as long as Teddy stays close by he is allowed to go there by himself. He does as he is told; he never runs too far. But he wonders if his Grandmother is watching him, or if she is busy doing the jobs in the house that she never has time to do with Teddy there. If she were watching him, Teddy wonders why she doesn't just come to the park with him. It is not the freedom or the sense of responsibility he desires when he goes to the park, it is the change of scenery. It would be nice to have someone here with him. He finds no enjoyment in running about or rolling on the grass or kicking the strange muggle ball by himself. Instead, as he so often finds himself doing, he sits on one of the benches and reads. He is not allowed to bring any magic books to the park so instead he brings muggle paperbacks that he found in the attic. He reads about enchanted woods and faraway trees and fairies and angry pixies and men with moons for faces and saucepans on their heads. This is what magic must be to muggles, he surmises, and he does not dislike it. In fact, he thinks it sounds lovely, but that could be because the three children in the story are siblings.

It is on that bench reading when a child comes over to him. Teddy believes him to be about the same age. He is wearing jeans and trainers and a blue puffy coat. Teddy would love to have trainers, but his Grandmother has told him they aren't proper shoes. He wonders if this boy is a muggle. He does not know of any other magic children around here, but then, he does not know of many other children at all. Luckily, as it is winter, Teddy is wearing a bobble hat. If he is a muggle, Teddy is safe from revealing his secret.

"Is that your football?" The boy asks. Teddy guesses he is talking about the strange muggle ball.

"Yes." He replies.

"D'ya wanna play?"

"I'm not really very good."

"Doesn't matter." The boy dismisses. "We'll teach ya." He points over his shoulder to two other boys. They look similar to the boy stood in front of him; they all have dark hair cut into a short style, they are all wearing similar styled coats, but they look different ages. Teddy assumes they are brothers.

They teach him a few things about the game. It seems like Quidditch, but with fewer balls and more complicated rules. He does not know what offside is, but it sounds important.

"What team do ya support, then?" The oldest boy asks as they chase after the ball.

"I don't really, I'm afraid."

The middle boy aims a kick at the ball but it misses and his foot lands on the oldest boy's shin. He pushes him back and they laugh together. The youngest boy does too and Teddy, for fear of feeling left out, wants to join in, but he does not know what is so funny. Perhaps, he thinks, it is some kind of inside-brotherly thing, so he does not laugh with them.

"Our dad takes us to footie matches." The oldest boy tells Teddy. "About the only time we see him." The other two boys nod together. "He's a pretty lousy dad, really."

"Yeah." The middle boy agrees. "Lousy."

This time, it is Teddy who nods. He wonders if his Dad would be lousy. He doesn't know what it means, but he thinks it doesn't sound nice, so he hopes he wouldn't be.

"But then when we get back our mum always takes us to McDonalds. We have chicken nuggets and fries for tea which is wicked." The three boys smile as if sharing a private memory.

"What are chicken nuggets?" Teddy has no idea what part of the chicken a nugget comes from. His Grandmother has made meals with thigh, leg, wing and breast. But never nugget.

The three boys' mouths' open and almost hit the floor. "You've never eaten chicken nuggets?" The oldest one asks. Teddy shakes his head, feeling foolish, and the brothers look at each other, before turning back to Teddy and regarding his as if he had just told them he is an alien from another planet. Perhaps that isn't too far from the truth.

Teddy also does not know what McDonalds is, but it seems to be something muggles should just _know_ about, so he holds his tongue. Instead, he changes the subject. "Don't your parents take you these places together?" Teddy finds it odd that their father takes them one place, and their mother takes them another. Whenever he pictures doing things with his parents, they are always together- as a family.

"They used to." The oldest boy tells Teddy. "But now they don't get on."

"They're divorced." The middle one whispers knowingly. Once again, Teddy finds himself completely unaware of what being divorced involves, but from the looks on the boys' faces, it isn't something they like very much.

They talk as young boys talk; or rather, the brothers talk, and Teddy listens. He does not know what a Nintendo is, he's never heard of Manchester United, he does not have a desire to learn to drive a car nor does he know what car he wants when he is older, but if he were so inclined, the Ferrari the oldest boy described sounded nice. They want to know what secondary school he will go to in September, and not wanting to lie, he tells them he will go to a boarding school in Scotland.

"Why?" The middle boy asks. They are sharing some sweets, and Teddy wants to ask what sweets they are, but he does not want to appear ignorant. He notes what they are like; they are round and white and taste a bit like chocolate, with lots of tiny coloured sugar balls on the top. He thinks he will ask Hermione when he next sees her- although, since Hugo was born, he does not see her much.

"It is a good school. All my family went there, and all my parents' friends."

"Will you be away from your parents?" The middle one is still curious.

It is not Teddy but the oldest boy who replies. "Of course, stupid. It's a boarding school! He'll live there!" He pushes his brother on the arm. "Why can't you just go to the regular school down the road?"

Teddy shrugs. "I want to go."

"I'd hate that." The oldest boy decides. The middle one nods in agreement, and the youngest says nothing, but stares at Teddy. He finds it odd how they all seem to agree with each other.

He does not enjoy the game, but he does enjoy the company.

They know he is different, but Teddy does not think it is because he is a wizard. They can tell, from the book he was reading, and the cardigan he is wearing, and the turns of phrase he uses, that he has been raised by someone a generation older than their own parents.

The boys seem nice, but Teddy knows they probably won't be friends. He doesn't even know their names. They're not like him at all. Teddy cannot wait to go to Hogwarts.

But the brothers seem to agree on the same things and they all speak the same way and have the same quirks. They even look similar. Teddy finds it endearing that they look up to the eldest one. That's the type of brother Teddy would like to be, if he had a younger sibling.


	6. Ten: Part Two

Part Two.

A thoughtful look crosses the ten year old's face as he sits at the scrubbed kitchen table in Grimmauld Place. "Ginny, have you ever had chicken nuggets?" Teddy asks.

"No, never." Ginny looks over at him questioningly, wondering where on earth Teddy has heard of such a thing. "I think muggles like them though. It's like processed chicken, I think. They aren't very nice."

"Oh," he replies a little downheartedly. She watches his face fall.

"Why do you want to know, sweetheart?" She asks him, but he shakes his head at her, and looks downcast at the table top. He props his arm on the table by his elbow, and rests the side of his head in his palm.

Ginny is confused as to why such peculiar thing could make Teddy so sad, but he doesn't seem like he wants to elaborate.

It's at times like these that she hates everything that happened more than ever. It just isn't fair. In fact, if there's one thing that's said in regards to Teddy more than anything, it's that. And it makes it worse that they cannot seem to cheer him up. It's not that he is unhappy, it's just that he seems a bit… sad.

It just isn't fair. And Ginny hates it all. Teddy shouldn't spend his childhood battling something as big as the loss of his parents; no child should. He should be free to play games and run wild and dream happily at night, but instead he is plagued with 'what if's?' and 'why's?', the ethereal spirits forever waiting on the edges of his thoughts. Forever reminding him of why he is here. When he lies down to sleep in the evening, they remind him why he is in a bed at his Grandmother's house. When he plays by himself in the back garden, they remind him why he is alone. When he sits at the table watching Ginny prepare dinner, they remind him why he is not watching his mother do the same. What if his parents had been there when he had wandered downstairs for breakfast that morning? What if his parents had been there when he had stumbled over a rock in the garden flowerbed and grazed his knee? What if his parents had been there when he had woken up once in the middle of the night after a peculiar nightmare of being torn apart by a strange glistening silver figure?

They worry about him more than they should. And they try everything they can to make him happy, but sometimes it isn't enough. It cannot replace them; all the chicken nuggets in the world could not replace a mother and father's love.

Watching Teddy at the table, head bowed down and resting on the palm of his hand, she is reminded of the sight Harry relayed back to her when he had been round to visit Teddy the day before to invite him for tea tonight. He had found Andromeda sitting in her living room window, looking out at the park down the road. She had silently pointed it out to Harry, who could see Teddy sat by himself upon a bench, head bowed down resting on the palm of his hand. Andromeda had informed him that Teddy was reading a book that he had found in the attic, and he had been for most of the afternoon. It had had a sad effect of Harry, and Ginny felt the same.

"We're having Toad in the Hole, tonight, though, sweetheart." She tells him, in an effort to cheer him up. Teddy's favourite meal is Toad in the Hole, and Ginny knows this. He looks up from the table at her, but he does not smile.

"I'll need some milk, though!" Ginny announces suddenly. "For the Yorkshire Pudding. If you do want Toad in the Hole, it takes a little while to prepare so perhaps you could get some from the shop on the corner."

Not much of this is entirely true; Ginny is a witch, after all. She does not need any milk, nor will it take her a little while to prepare dinner.

But she does want Teddy to go to the shops. She pulls open a drawer beneath the kitchen counter and retrieves a handful of peculiar, thin papers. Ginny deposits the white and blue notes into Teddy's hand, who looks at them strangely. "It's a muggle shop, they won't accept our galleons Teddy!" She reassures him.

Teddy walks up the stairs from the kitchen and down the corridor towards the front door, narrowly avoiding the hideous troll leg umbrella stand. He has no idea why they have it; it doesn't match the décor of the house, and it isn't even nice. It's a trip hazard, Teddy thinks, what with the way it sticks out on the floor.

James, it seems, is also standing beside the door, coat in hand and shoes on feet.

"I will be going with Teddy." He boldly announces to his mother, who has followed Teddy upstairs.

"James, I'm not sure that's a good idea." Ginny has a feeling that James is not willing to reason with her.

Ginny doesn't know what to say. Teddy is only ten, and he may not want to look after a boisterous four year old, accompanying him to the shops. But James idolises Teddy, he looks up to him, and everything he does captivates James- there is no way he will stay at home if Teddy gets to go to the shops. And Ginny _wants _Teddy to go to the shops.

This is, she reminds herself, the son of Remus Lupin. He was born sensible, and has acted like a small adult for as long as Ginny can remember. And she knows James will be on his best behaviour for Teddy- he worships him. But she also reminds herself that Remus Lupin was a marauder, so just to be on the safe side, she decides that she will order Kreacher to follow the pair to stop them getting into any mischief.

"Fine." She sighs. "You can go with Teddy. But you are not to run off, or get into trouble, or be naughty in any way!" James smiles innocently at her, but Ginny knows him far too well. "Is that okay, Teddy?" Teddy nods, a somewhat apprehensive look clouding his face. "You are to go to the shops, and then come back. I think that's fair." She scrutinises the two boys, and they both nod in agreement.

"Do you have the money?" She asks, as Teddy folds the papers carefully and places them into his coat pocket.

Ginny understands muggle money and she knows that she has given Teddy far more than he will need for a bottle of milk. She tells him to buy some biscuits for himself with the change, and as Teddy turns to James, the apprehensive look on his face vanishes. Always far too clever, Teddy has worked something out, though Ginny isn't entirely sure what. Teddy waves goodbye over his shoulder and James bounds down the front steps, and as the two reach the pavement they laugh together, sharing some inside joke. They look just like any other pair of brothers, she thinks. Teddy flashes Ginny a mischievous, toothy grin. Ginny should be worried by it, but she can't help it- Teddy's smile is so rare yet so damn contagious- that she smiles gladly after the boy as he wanders down the pavement.

Ginny knows for certain that they will take a detour home and Teddy will buy himself a book instead. But after hearing about him reading a dirty old second-hand paperback in the park, it is exactly what she wants.


	7. Eleven

Eleven.

Teddy is eleven. It is exactly one month since he received his Hogwarts letter and he has not yet been to Diagon Alley to purchase his new school supplies. He is in no rush, of course- he does have until the end of August before he will need them, and that is three months away. But it is one of the things he is most looking forward to, and he thinks that if he were to get his supplies soon it would make the wait until September 1st seem a lot shorter.

He sits on the bench in the window and watches two girls playing across the street. They have neatly plaited hair and one is wearing red shorts, whilst the other wears blue shorts. They look similar, but they are not twins. One is taller than the other, so Teddy guesses that is the older one. They are new, and they do not yet know of the peculiar lady and her equally strange Grandson who live in number seven. It is best if it stays that way, he thinks. He continues contentedly reading his book- one he has acquired from Hermione, all about his new school. It is Hogwarts- A History, and Teddy has already read it from cover to cover twice. He won't be here long, of course- he is sure his Grandmother will soon have finished whatever it is she is doing in the kitchen, and then today will be the day that she will take him to Diagon Alley. It probably won't take them long, as Teddy practically knows the supplies list by heart, so if they set off in half an hour, they will have a good hour to do their shopping before the shops close at five.

A peculiar sound catches his attention. At first, he thinks it is someone shouting his name, but as he listens closer, it is more like some kind of chant, accompanied by an odd beating.

_'Teddy bear, teddy bear, turn around,_

_Teddy bear, teddy bear, touch the ground,_

_Teddy bear, teddy bear, reach up high,_

_Teddy bear, teddy bear, touch the sky,_

_Teddy bear, teddy bear, bend down low,_

_Teddy bear, teddy bear, touch your toes.'_

He looks up instinctively and out the window. The two girls are now skipping. They have tied one end of the rope to a lamppost, and one of the girls is holding the other end, whilst the second one skips. Teddy thinks it would be a lot easier to turn the rope if someone was holding the end tied to the lamppost. He looks around for his Grandmother, and after deciding the coast is clear, he takes it upon himself to help the girls out of their predicament by turning the rope for them. For perhaps the first time in his life, Teddy is going to bravely approach the two strangers and make some friends. Before he leaves, though, he runs upstairs and collects the bag of muggle sweets he made Harry buy for him. They are the same ones he remembers the three brothers having, and they actually look quite nice, he decides- even if they don't have collectable cards or peculiar flavours or they don't chase you around the room. He will share these, he thinks, with his two new friends once they have finished skipping. The prospect of sharing sweets with friends thrills Teddy, and he bounces back down the stairs and reaches the front door.

He can now hear the girls chanting something new. It is not the same as before, but the rhythmic pounding of the one girl's feet on the pavement as she jumps continues, keeping time for the other girl's song, and it mesmerises Teddy. It is steady and methodical and Teddy finds it strangely soothing, like a heartbeat. He cannot help but stand beside the door listening to the words of the new song.

_'There's a rumour going round of a great big beast_

_Who lives in the woods and waits for his feast._

_Little girls are his favourite meal, they say_

_He'll gobble them up if they come his way!_

_Nancy thought she was brave, and so_

_She went into the woods on her own- oh no!_

_Silently he crept from the shadows one night_

_Then howled and roared with all of his might!_

_The little girl ran as fast as she could!_

_What's the scariest monster living in the wood?'_

The girl jumping begins to shout something. She seems to be replying to the song.

_'A bear?' _Teddy can hear her call. The first girl, who had been singing, laughs, and shouts back '_no!'_

_ 'A lion?'_

_'No!'_

_'A tiger?'_

_'No!'_

The voices stop for a second, but the pounding of the feet continue. Teddy's hand is on the door handle and he is moments from emerging from his house to greet his new friends, when he hears it.

_'A werewolf?'_

_'Yes!'_ The answer is lost as the two girls begin to cackle at what they think must be a very funny joke, but it is a joke Teddy does not understand. Perhaps it's a sister thing, he wonders, or maybe even a muggle thing. But if he were honest to himself, he knows it is neither of these- werewolves it seems are unanimously the scariest things in existence, in both the muggle and Wizarding world.

He wants to storm out there and shout at them; tell them they're wrong, that there are all sorts of worse things to be afraid of, and that werewolves are harmless most of the time, but it's their _ignorance_ that makes people think otherwise.

But they would think he was mad. They're muggles, and they think werewolves are make-believe, and only exist in fairy tales and fables and can be killed by silver bullets. He can't march out there and tell them to stop being so narrow minded, and to stop thinking like a _muggle_, and that his father was a werewolf. He's fiercely loyal to his father, and if he could, he would stand up for him in front of those girls.

But he can't. And it's not because they're muggles. It's because he is not brave enough.

He no longer wants to join them. He returns to his seat by the window with his sweets, which are once again completely unappealing, and he picks up the book he had discarded. The girls have swapped positions now and Teddy can hear the monotonous dirge begin once again.

_'There's a rumour going round of a great big beast…'_

He wishes he could cast a silencing charm on the two girls. He can't wait to learn how to perform one at Hogwarts. In fact, he finds himself thinking yet again, he can't wait to _go _to Hogwarts.


	8. Eleven: Part Two

Part Two.

Knees shaking, heart pounding, Teddy walks towards the stool. It is a walk he's rehearsed before, along his hallway, with the kitchen chair and his Grandmother's best hat. He's heard everyone else recount their Sorting, and now, it is his turn. His legs are like lead but he feels like he's floating. It's the most important walk he'll ever take, and he has to restrain himself so he doesn't hurtle headfirst into the staff table.

The little three-legged stool is hard- not at all like the kitchen chair he practiced on. But then, that did have a seat pad. He'll only be here a short while, Teddy tells himself. There's no need to get too comfy.

He's wondered about this for what feels like forever. He's read every inch of the copy of Hogwarts- A History that he borrowed from Hermione. He knows all there is to know about each of the houses and their founders; he knows the qualities that determine each one.

The brim of the Hat falls over Teddy's eyes. Darkness. Alone with the Hat and his thoughts. But he doesn't need the hat; he already knows what house he's in.

Hufflepuff. Teddy is patient and just and loyal. His mother was a Hufflepuff, and every time one of the Weasleys' makes a joke about Hufflepuffs, he tells them this with pride. They shouldn't laugh at Hufflepuffs. They are faithful and kind and compassionate, and if that's a sin then Teddy's proud to be a sinner. He can already feel the fierce house pride swelling inside him. He's loyal to Hufflepuff, and it's this loyalty that earns him the place there to begin with.

But secretly- _secretly_\- he wishes to be a Gryffindor. To be bold and brave and courageous. It's the house his hero was in- and it's the house in which he feels like he's spent his whole childhood. The way Harry and Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys' talk about it, he feels like he already knows his way around the common room, he knows all the passwords. He can practically feel those comfy chairs and the cosy fire. It was the first thing he ever really knew about Hogwarts.

Teddy begins to wonder if the Sorting Hat is listening to him. He knows he belongs in Hufflepuff, and the Hat knows that too, but Gryffindor is where his heart lies. Of course it's listening- it's the Sorting Hat, Teddy remind himself. But, why hasn't it said anything yet? He's practically made the decision for it.

Teddy sits in patient silence. That patience, of course- a vice of a true Hufflepuff. He tries in earnest to remember what Harry had told him about it, but in all this excitement, he just can't remember. Did he talk to the hat first? Should Teddy try this?

He can hear nothing but his ragged heartbeat; it ricochets around the room like great claps of thunder.

It seems like nothing is happening, Teddy decides. He does not want to disturb the Hat, in case it is still thinking, but if he sits here any longer they will start to think of him as a hat stand. He's not sure what to do, and he finds himself faced with a dilemma of sorts; should he continue to sit and wait patiently, or should he bravely do something and give the hat a push to get a move on?

And it is this pivotal decision that the Sorting Hat is waiting for. It is not what he _will_ do, but what he _wants_ to do.

And Teddy wants to be brave. He takes a deep breath, but he doesn't really know why, and is about to introduce himself to the hat, when a small, rasped voice echoing through his ears stops him.

"I can hear it all." Teddy grips the edges of the stool. "I do not place you depending on what you are, I place you on what you wish to be. You are patient and loyal, certainly, but you wish to be brave and courageous. And in Gryffindor, you will be pushed to achieve these things."

"So that's it?" Teddy wonders apprehensively. "I'm in Gryffindor?"

"Do you wish to be in Gryffindor?" The Hat replies softly.

Teddy grins a wide, toothy smile into the brim of the Hat, and if the Hat could, he'd probably smile back. As the Hat is removed from his head, Teddy can hear shouting and applause, one house cheering louder than the others. He looks at his new housemates, and then back over his shoulder at his new teachers, eyeing the headmistress happily. Teddy finds her smiling back at him. She can't help it; it's just so contagious. Maybe it's because she still has a fondness for Gryffindor house, or maybe it's because in that brief moment, Teddy looks just like any other of the students, or maybe, and most likely, it's because his smile is so much like his father's.

* * *

_So in my head I've always liked the idea that the sorting hat places people on what qualities they admire rather than what qualities they possess. Which would explain why Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw- 'Books and cleverness. There are more important things. Friendship and bravery." _


	9. Thirteen

Thirteen

Teddy is thirteen. It is nearly the end of the school year, the second year exams are over, and the sun is high overhead. He is outside, sitting in the shade underneath the big oak tree beside the lake, watching his friends. They are playing with magic; messing about with little charms and spells they have picked up from somewhere. A soft wind skims over the longer strands of grass.

"Where'd you learn that spell?" One of Teddy's friends' asks another. They have transfigured a thorny weed into a yellow daisy. It is a peculiar flower; the stem is a darker green than it should be and the petals have a few prickled edges. Teddy thinks the spell has not gone quite as well as it could have, but it worked nonetheless.

"Oh. My dad taught it me when I went home for Easter."

"See, that's a cool spell! My dad taught me a spell to clean the algae from the pond. I think he was hoping I'd be good at it so that I would do it for him."

Another friend joins the conversation. "When I went home for Easter my mum was so shocked by the state of my trunk that she taught me a spell to fold all my clothes into it neatly. I'm rubbish at it though. She'll probably make me practice it over summer so I'll have perfected it by September."

"My little sister starts Hogwarts in September."

"She'll be in the same year as my cousin then! They might even be in the same house."

"Is it true Flitwick's retiring? I wonder who'll be the head of Ravenclaw next year?"

"My uncle was asked to be the new charms teacher but he turned it down. He said he likes working in the Ministry's Obliviator Headquarters."

"My oldest brother's going to graduate and become an Auror for the Ministry this summer."

Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of a girl, a couple of years older than them, who looks very much like one of Teddy's friends. She has the same colour hair, the same wide, round eyes and the same strong Irish accent. She has come to ask her younger brother how his exam had gone, and whether he had received the same letter from their parents that morning as she had.

Teddy has been quiet, and he finds that he has nothing to say. He has no brothers and sisters to start at Hogwarts, no Aunts or Uncles with interesting jobs, and no parents to learn new spells from. He has his Grandmother, but no good story has ever started with, 'my Grandmother taught me…'. She is kind, and very patient, but she can be strict. He has his Godfather, but he feels self-conscious when he talks about him; he is Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the Chosen one, and he already gets enough stick from the Slytherins about it. He has no one else.

He wishes he could join in with the conversation. He wishes his little brother would run up to him, worried, asking for help on an essay or some homework he has forgotten to complete. He wishes he could impress his friends by telling them all the interesting stories about his mother's job as an Auror. He knows a fun spell that turns a rat yellow, but he learnt it from his father's friend, and he wishes he had learnt it from his father. In fact, he wishes he had learnt _anything_ from his father.

He does not blame his friends, of course. He knows it must be difficult to _not_ talk about their families- and anyway, why should they have to avoid it? One of Teddy's friends does not have an owl, but the others still talk about them. It should be no different. But somehow, it is.

His friends continue on and they do not notice Teddy reaching into his bag and pulling out a tattered book. It is not a textbook- after all the revising he has been doing for the recent exams, he has had enough of them. It is a simple fiction book, written by a muggle author, about a peculiar, wintry kingdom hidden in a wardrobe, with talking lions and beavers and a cruel white queen. He has read it before, and he does not like it very much- he does not like how the wolves are vicious beasts and the witch is an evil bully, but he reads it all the same. For that brief moment, he is not stuck at school under the oak tree listening to his friends babble on about the many various members of their extended families, he is in a world of his own. There is something he finds strange about the book- he feels almost _jealous_ of the main characters, and he knows very well that it is fact they are siblings.

Teddy is both an only child and an orphan. He can't help but feel that one would be bearable, if only he had the other.


	10. Thirteen: Part Two

Part Two

It is just after midnight and the Hogwarts house-elves have been working their way through the Gryffindor common room and the dormitories, tidying and cleaning and emptying bins before the students wake up in the morning. One student, however, will wake up one year older.

Two house-elves wearing pink aprons carefully carry a huge stack of neatly wrapped birthday presents, some in gold paper and some in red paper, into the second years' dormitory to leave for one of the boys.

It is a generous hoard of presents and it requires two house-elves to carry it. They place it carefully on the floor and admire it in awe. This boy is very lucky, they think- to have family that clearly care about him very much to have sent so many special gifts- and they hope he realises it.

That morning, as Teddy enjoys his birthday breakfast of scrambled eggs and crumpets, a speckled grey owl sweeps gracefully into the great hall.

He recognises the owl immediately as Harry's. But he has already received a birthday parcel from Harry and Ginny. He had woken to find it at the foot of his bed, along with some presents from his Grandmother. It had obviously been sent beforehand and somehow, most probably by magic, been left there during the night- so why on earth would he be sending something else? Perhaps, Teddy reasons, Lily had something she _desperately_ needed Teddy to receive, perhaps a drawing of some sort, and she had forgotten to add it to the parcel they already sent. Harry must have agreed to allow her to use the owl to send it to Teddy. This was quite likely.

The owl glides to land in front of Teddy, carefully avoiding stepping onto his plate or placing a foot into a bowl of baked beans, and holds its leg out for Teddy to retrieve the parcel. With a playful nip on his finger, the owl efficiently returns the way it came- no doubt obeying Harry's orders to be as quick as possible.

Teddy examines the rather flat parcel. It is wrapped in brown parcel paper and tied simply with some string. It is not at all like Ginny's careful wrapping technique, and in fact it looks more like Harry's haphazard efforts. He turns it over, but there are scarcely any markings upon the paper. It is strange that whatever it is should be so inconspicuous.

Teddy pulls on the string to untie it and tears at the paper. A tatty piece of old parchment falls out, permanent creases along the lines where it has been folded and refolded countless times.

Turning it over, he finds a small note attached.

_Teddy—_

_I have no hesitation in saying that Moony would have been highly disappointed if his son had never found any of the secret passages out of the castle._

_I also think he would have been highly disappointed if I did not warn you about the dangers of it- this map in the wrong hands could be very dangerous indeed. No sneaking out of grounds, no roaming around the castle after curfew, and absolutely under no circumstances should this map be used for mischief making._

_So I need you to solemnly swear that you will be good. And if you can't be good- be careful._

_Harry._

_P.S. Don't tell Ginny. Please._

Utterly baffled, Teddy has no idea what to think. He decides that Harry has well and truly now lost the plot. He reaches into his bag and retrieves a quill and some ink, and quickly scribbles a reply onto the parchment.

_Thank you, Harry- the parchment is great. I have spent a good few minutes deciding how I could use it to the highest of its potential, when I realised that the reason you sent it was probably because you wanted a reply. So here it is. It is lovely to write on, even if it is a bit creased. _

_You mentioned 'this map', and to your credit you have warned me about the dangers of it, and about how it could be dangerous in the wrong hands. I'm not sure if it is in the wrong hands, though, because it certainly isn't in mine. Either someone has already intercepted the mail, or (and most likely) I think you may have forgotten to include it._

Teddy lifts the quill from the paper and begins to scan his eyes across the parchment, rereading his reply. He gets no further than his introductory gratitude to Harry when his writing, neat and uniform, disappears.

Teddy's best friend Norman peers over his shoulder, before quickly deciding, "Looks like a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' product to me", spraying chewed up toast crumbs from his mouth.

Teddy poises his quill over the parchment again, and scribbles his name.

_Teddy Lupin._

Once again, Teddy stares in disbelief as the words promptly disappear. He writes it again, _Teddy Remus Lupin_, and when it vanishes, he writes it a third time, and a forth. He is utterly mesmerised. If this is a new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product, they have really outdone themselves. But a niggling thought at the edges of his mind makes him wonder exactly what the purpose of it is. One could not pass secret messages on it, for they disappear too quickly, and it would be no use for taking notes in class on. Unless it works as a two-way system, and somewhere Harry has the other one. Perhaps they would be able to write instant messages to each other. Yes, Teddy thinks, it is truly fascinating. But it still doesn't explain what Harry meant about the map, and why he shouldn't tell Ginny.

He pauses before writing anything else, in case Harry is about to reply.

Almost as if he is expecting it, black ink does indeed slowly appear, glistening against the dirty parchment.

_Lupin_.

It simply reads. He watches as the ghostly writing continues below.

_Perhaps it's a coincidence, Moony._

Moony. That was the nickname Teddy's father had been given by his school friends. Teddy knows that- not only had he been told it once before, but Harry mentioned it in the first line of his letter. Teddy rereads Harry's note again, the last line catching his attention. It is a peculiarly worded sentence, for who on earth would 'solemnly swear' anything, let alone to be good?! But something about the words stir a memory in the recesses of Teddy's mind. Almost instinctively, he places his wand upon the parchment, it seemingly acting of its own accord, and he remembers the peculiar catchphrase that Teddy has heard Harry, Ron and George whisper to each other sometimes.

And as the words of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs scrawl across the page in thick black ink, they induct Teddy into the world of the Marauders Map.

By the end of the school year, he has learnt many different shortcuts and passages from the map. He can leave breakfast late and still arrive on time for his first class, he can avoid the high-pitched shrieking of the first years and the gloating shouting of the seventh years as the students shuffle through the school between classes, he can prevent any unwanted run-ins with prying teachers as he goes about his night-time wanderings, and perhaps most importantly, he has managed to locate the kitchens, and has become rather friendly with several of the house-elves there who are more than willing to accommodate him when he stumbles in during the early hours desperate for a midnight snack.

And it is on the very last day of term, during his regular late night excursion to his friends in the kitchen, that he truly appreciates the beauty of the map. He has been able to freely navigate his way down from Gryffindor Tower on the seventh floor, use a variety of short cuts to arrive moments later on the ground floor and has been able to keep an eye on the whereabouts of the teachers paroling the corridor to avoid any unnecessary midnight catch-ups. It is fascinating, and rarely a day goes by when Teddy does not silently thank the Marauders.

At first, the house-elves thought he was rather peculiar. And who could blame them? He often had very different hair styles, and he would turn up by himself and accept anything they would offer, never making a request. He was incredibly polite, and always seemed interested in the house-elves, and where they had come from, and whether they liked working at Hogwarts, and if they had been having a nice day or not.

Sitting waiting for his hot chocolate, Teddy realises he has learnt a lot from the map, and so by extension, he has learnt a lot from his father. And at this thought, a warm feeling spreads through Teddy's chest, and he feels a smile playing at the corners of his lips. As two house-elves with pink aprons hurry back holding a mug of a steaming chocolate concoction between the two of them, Teddy offers them a wide, toothy grin.

And the house-elves don't know what it is- perhaps it is just that Master Teddy's smile, so very rare, is so damn contagious- that they find themselves smiling back at him. They no longer find him peculiar; in fact, he reminds them of a group of boys who would also visit the kitchens for a midnight snack when they were thirteen, too- albeit a rather long time ago. But they still remember those boys, and they'll probably remember Teddy as well.

* * *

_I usually don't like the idea in some other fanfictions of the Marauder's Map 'replying' to the user asking it questions but then there's a part in The Prisoner of Azkaban (when Snape catches Harry with the map) where Lupin says 'it looks to me as though it is a piece of parchment that insults anybody who tries to read it.' I imagine Lupin was partly telling the truth- but if that's the case, it would never insult anyone who could be a Marauder-offspring! _


	11. Fourteen

Fourteen.

Teddy is fourteen. As is customary, the third years have finally been allowed to visit Hogsmeade. They have already been a couple of times so far, but the novelty still hasn't worn off. It is late April, and the clouds above threaten rain. It is dull and overcast, and Teddy feels the same.

"Do you know what she said in her letter to me this morning?" Norman, Teddy's best friend, asks him rhetorically. "_'Don't forget to get Walter something from Honeydukes!'_ Honestly._"_. He sighs in exasperation. "I didn't have anyone buying me sweets when I was in first year!"

Norman's mother, it turns out, had written to her son that morning wishing him a pleasant trip to Hogsmeade, and reminding him to buy his little brother a gift from the sweet shop, too, which Norman feels is completely unfair. He shouldn't be made to share his sweets or buy his brother some- after all, going to Hogsmeade is supposed to be a treat for the third years- and he has felt the need to relay the unjustness of it all to Teddy on their walk from the school to Hogsmeade.

Teddy isn't really listening, but he agrees that it is unfair. He's jealous of Norman- Teddy will never be asked to share anything with his siblings, nor will he ever get a letter from his mother. He can't understand why Norman is annoyed. It isn't fair.

"Norman!" A loud voice calls from behind them. "Norman!"

Norman turns to respond to whoever is calling him, and Teddy looks over his shoulder to see as well. A square-jawed wizard with thick, straw-coloured hair strides towards them, his bottle green robes flowing behind him. "Hullo!" he cries. Teddy regards him carefully; he looks like his head has been thatched.

"Oh," Norman shuffles slowly towards him, his hands buried deep in his pockets. "Hello, Mr Podmore."

The man's eyes roam over Norman's face. "Merlin, you look more like Stanley every time I see you." He decides. "I bet you get that all the time, don't you son!" Norman nods in agreement. "Yes," the man continues. "You've the exact same nose!"

Teddy knows that Stanley is Norman's father, but he does not know who this man is. Norman and Mr Podmore talk about his parents, and most specifically, how much he looks like them. Mr Podmore apparently cannot get over this fact- as if he's never seen another child look so much like someone else. Teddy has met Norman's father before, and he has seen photographs of him, and he thinks this man may be exaggerating somewhat. Norman's hair is not a bit like his father's- it's not even the same colour. And of course his father looks a lot older, and they don't act alike or speak alike or do anything alike really. Teddy accepts that if he squints a little Norman and his father do have similar noses.

The man seems to eye Teddy strangely, as if he has seen him before and he was trying to recall where. But Teddy is sure he has no idea who the man is.

"Oh," Norman says quickly, catching Mr Podmore observing Teddy. "This is my friend, Teddy." He tells him, and Teddy politely offers his hand out, murmuring a swift hello.

"Teddy." Mr Podmore repeats somewhat pensively, shaking Teddy's proffered hand.

"Yes." Teddy tells him, squirming under the man's curious gaze. "Teddy." He reinforces, and for reasons completely unbeknown to him, he tells him, "Teddy Lupin."

Mr Podmore's face breaks into a soft smile of sudden understanding. "Teddy Lupin. Of course." He replies quietly.

Back at the castle later that afternoon, Teddy finds himself still contemplating the peculiar conversation with the man in Hogsmeade. He is dragged from his thoughts by Norman fidgeting beside him.

"Right," Norman sighs resignedly, rolling up his parchment and stuffing it unceremoniously in his bag. He rummages through it to find the small packet of Honeydukes chocolate drops he had purchased earlier that day. He shakes them at Teddy. "I best take these to Walter. He'll probably be in his common room now. Do you fancy a walk, Ted?"

"I should really finish this," Teddy tells him, gesturing to the parchment laid out in front of him.

"Is it the lunar chart for Astrology?" He asks, peering at Teddy's parchment. "Come on, Ted, if there's one person who doesn't need to revise stuff like that it's you!" Norman is right- Teddy has always had a morbid fascination with the phases of the moon. Most nights he finds himself absentmindedly staring through the dormitory window at it. He can remember when he used to hide under his bed because he was scared of it. Now, it mesmerises him; he becomes absorbed in its pale glow.

That evening, however, he does not gaze hopelessly out of the window at the moon. Instead Teddy sits on his bed, the curtains drawn around him, with a hefty book spread open on his lap. It is a history book he has taken out of the library all about the Second Wizarding War. There is nothing in it that he does not know, in fact, there are probably things he knows better than the book. Having a godfather who was vital to the war effort had that effect. But he is not reading it to learn something; he just enjoys reading about things Harry has already told him about. It reminds Teddy of him, and it's nice when he feels lonely. He finds that books often help him when he feels alone. There's something comforting in the faraway fantasies in fiction books, or the unchanging facts in non-fiction. He's barely flicking through it, scanning his eyes across the words and skimming over odd pictures. He flicks to a page at the back when a photograph of a wizard catches his eye. His father looks out of the book at him. Teddy glances at the caption and learns that his father had received a posthumous Order of Merlin. It turns out there _are _things he does not know, then. Why would no one tell him that?

He studies intently the curvature of his father's nose, the shape and shade of his eyes, his strong cheekbones. He has a lined face, with flecks of grey through his hair. He holds a handheld mirror to his face and peers into it. His hair is short and vibrant, his eyes bright, his face full. There's not much in his appearance that is similar to the photograph in the book on his lap. He thinks that it would be nice if he just looked _a little_ bit more like his parents.

And being a metamorphmagus, of course, he can do just that.

He decides to start without any morphed features at all. He's not really sure whether that's possible- does he have a natural look? It's very odd, and once again he wishes he had someone to talk to about it.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, thinking of absolutely nothing in particular. He exhales, and tries to be completely at ease. The tips of his hair lengthen slowly to reach just above his chin. His fringe, so often morphed into a soft quiff, sinks down and over onto his forehead, a natural wave in the middle, keeping the ends out of his eyes. The vibrant blue colour slowly fades, growing gradually paler, until the blue is completely replaced by a light brown colour. He squints open his eyes to peek into the mirror. This must be his natural hair, he thinks. He's a little surprised- for some reason, he had just expected it to be dark like his Grandmother's. It looks rather ordinary. He screws his eyes shut again; it is much easier that way. His face loses its colour, growing paler, making him look somewhat sickly. The rouge tint of his cheeks disappear. The shape of his nose strengthens; his cheekbones grow slightly more pronounced. His eyes do not change very much; they simply darkened in colour, the pools of his iris' so deep they seem to sparkle.

He can tell he is not morphing. His face seems to relax. He has never realised before that the muscles in his face would tighten and feel heavy, but now he feels strange; he feels nothing at all, and he is completely content. It is comforting- like sitting in a room with no sound. He raises the mirror to survey his natural appearance. He's speechless when he sees the reflection.

Staring back at him is a young Remus Lupin. He looks _exactly_ like his father. Except for the eyes.

* * *

_sorry about the cliché ending/last sentence- but I just couldn't resist!_


	12. Fourteen: Part Two

Part Two

"Anything from the trolley, dears?"

She is the stalwart of the Hogwarts Express. She's lost count of the years she has been pushing her cart along the train. Her slow walk and silver hair betray her advancing years.

She has watched generation after generation of young witches and wizards board the train for the first time in London, timidly approaching compartments looking for a free seat and a new friend. Then as their excitement overtakes them, and as they chatter quickly about the stories their parents have told them about their new school she can barely understand a word they say, they talk so fast. The excitement is slowly replaced with apprehension as the train travels ever closer. But she is there as the reassuring presence, offering them a friendly face, chocolates, sweets and other home comforts.

She barely recognises those timid first years when they arrive back on the train after their first year. They've been transformed, chatting openly with their housemates about their year, their endeavours and mostly, the tales they will recall for years to come. As she pushes her trolley between compartments, she notices how they become slowly more subdued. By the time they arrive back in London and bid their friends goodbye for the summer, all of them are equally as glad to return home to their parents.

The summers pass and she watches them progress through second year, third year, their O.W.L.s, apparition training. She watches their lives change, their friendships strengthen and their resolve toughen. She watches their characters develop, and the timid children filled with nervous excitement become courageous, determined individuals with strong spirits and open hearts.

The children grow to adults. As they board the train for the very last time, having graduated from Hogwarts, she is reminded of the first time she meets them, fragile and frightened, desperate to appear outwardly brave. Now when she opens the door to their compartments and asks them the immortal question for the final time, '_anything from the trolley, dears?'_, their bolshy exterior cracks, their mask of a toughened hero disappears and her heart sinks as she stares at the scared faces of anxious children sent off to battle the world.

She is their familiar link between Hogwarts and home. And this is the last time they will see her.

And it is the last time she will see them. Until, of course, their children arrive. They board the train with timid excitement, and as the journey progresses she hears retellings of stories she heard the first time round- no doubt tales their parents have passed down. It is beautifully reassuring as she looks at the first years, and recognises their parents' features, from their hair colour, their freckles, the sparkle in their eyes, and realises the anxious children she worried about all those years ago have a family of their own, and have grown up to be happy.

There are many students over the years that she remembers well. Often, they are parts of large Wizarding families; the Bones' all have round, friendly faces. The Cattermoles' have protuberant front teeth. The Weasleys' have the distinct red hair or freckles- she's noticed a couple of them lately. Other times, she remembers them from their notoriety. She remembers the young Slytherins who she would eventually read about in the Daily Prophet due to their allegiances with Voldemort. She remembers feeling unsettled when visiting Tom Riddle's compartment, though she never knew why at the time. Some of the children she now sees in Quidditch magazines. She remembers Harry Potter, of course- who could forget the Chosen One? He looked identical to his father, James Potter, who would always sit with young Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. They had all been such firm friends, and so charmingly cheeky, that she couldn't believe what she later read about them.

Then there was the fourth boy. She remembers his face, but she cannot quite remember his name. If she heard it, she knows she would instantly recognise it. His name floats somewhere on the edges of her consciousness. He had a sad face, and tattered clothes, and a somewhat shabby air about him.

She remembers him so well, the nameless boy, because she has never seen any other student leave Hogwarts so downhearted. He looked positively broken. And she worried about him the most. In fact, she often still does.

She does not know what happened to him. She thinks she may have seen him on the train once many years ago, but he had been fast asleep, and from what she could see of him he looked far older than she thought he would have, so she's sure she was mistaken. And anyway, what on earth would he be doing back on the train? And she even thinks she caught a quick glance of him on the platform once, surrounded by a number of red haired children, but she's since convinced herself she was wrong. He's probably changed quite a bit since she last saw him on the train leaving Hogwarts- but she would recognise his sad face.

She continues her journey on along the train, stopping beside the open door of the next compartment. They are fourth years- the war babies, she calls them. It takes very brave parents to have a baby during a war. She tried very hard to not get involved in the second war; she had been through the first, and did not want to suffer it again. Still to this day she knows little about it, but that is the way she prefers it.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" She asks the collection of fourth year boys, disrupting the chatter of their Christmas holiday plans.

They each purchase a small selection of sweets; the fourth years do not go mad like the first years but are not as strictly sensible as the fifth years.

She hands a tall boy with vibrant blue hair his loot of two chocolate frogs, a carton of pumpkin juice and a bag of Fizzing Whizzbees. She remembers him, for it is hard to forget a boy with blue hair, but she thinks he has a sad face. It seems somewhat familiar, but she doesn't know why. She doesn't know much about him, in fact she's not sure she even knows his name. But he's always incredibly polite to her, and even though he asks her each time she visits his compartment with her trolley if she has been having a nice day, it always takes her by surprise- it isn't the usual question a fourteen year old asks. She wishes she knew more about him, for she would like to tell his parents just how polite he is. They must be incredibly proud of him, she decides. He does not always buy the same things from the trolley, but he always buys two chocolate frogs. Today, as he accepts if from her, his face lights up, and he looks up to offer her a bright, somewhat toothy, grin. He looks just as happy as any other fourth year. And she can't say what it is- maybe it is just that the young boy with the bright hair has a smile that she has seldom seen but it seems so damn contagious- that she finds herself smiling back at him. She turns to move the trolley along to the next compartment but before she does, she stops, and calls through the door at the boy. She asks him his name.

"Teddy Lupin." He replies.

She instantly remembers the fourth boy's name. Her heart lifts as she realises what is familiar about Teddy's sad face and polite demeanour, and she feels proud that the broken boy she had worried about so much has grown up, just like the rest of the anxious children, to be happy.


	13. Fifteen

_mega apologies for the huge delay in updating- I hope you all haven't lost interest in this! A combination of severe writers block and deciding the story seemed too sad haha! (the very last chapter- which I wrote a while ago- was good at the time but I read it again and decided I didn't want it to be that sad, and believe me it was tear-your-heart-out-and-throw-it-at-a-wall sad, and I just couldn't deal with such a sad Teddy.) So I've been trying to rewrite it to make it a bit happier for poor old Teddy. I'm still not massively keen on these next two chapters but I sort of just wanted them out of the way because they were driving me mad! _

Fifteen.

Teddy is fifteen. The fifth year boys' dormitory is alive with excitement. Gasps and murmurs of appreciation snake around the room, as most of Gryffindor house admire the latest edition to the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"A Cepheid! Wow Teddy!"

"Hickory wood handle, it means its super lightweight."

"And look at the finish of the wood!"

"It just _looks_ fast, Teddy. We're going to win the Quidditch cup for sure!"

The attention makes Teddy feel uncomfortable. He wants to grab the broom and stuff it under the bed where no one will see it. It is a present from Harry- one his Grandmother and Ginny had wholeheartedly disapproved of. And Teddy agrees with them. He doesn't deserve it. It was incredibly expensive and it's far too extravagant, and really it's a racing broom. It's too fast for school, if he were to use it during Quidditch it just wouldn't be fair.

Harry had told him it was a gift. He'd mentioned something about it being a thank you for looking after the children over the Easter holidays, and also something about helping him wrestle a Grindylow out of the pond, and then he can also remember Harry telling him it's a congratulatory present for his O.W.L. results, only Harry couldn't wait until Teddy had actually _sat_ the exams to give him his gift.

But Teddy is clever enough to work it all out; he has heard the hushed conversations, he has seen the worrying glances between them all. He knows that the arrival of the gift coincides with the anniversary of his parents' death. He needs cheering up, they've agreed, and Harry's spontaneous decision was to purchase him the latest top of the range broom. But it really hasn't had the desired effect- in fact, if anything, it's made Teddy feel worse.

Back downstairs in the common room, and after all the excitement of the broom's arrival has died down, it doesn't take long for the impressed exclamations to turn into covetous whispers.

_"Of course, it's a gift from his godfather."_

_"You know who his godfather is, don't you? It's Harry Potter!"_

_"What? THE Harry Potter? Do his parents know him or something!?"_

_"Well, I wouldn't be sulking like that if my godfather gave me a Cepheid."_

_"How ungrateful! He's probably got the past three models at home lying under his bed."_

He's managed to block most of them out; after all, it's not like he's never heard it before. He's always been Harry Potter's Godson first, and Teddy Lupin second. But then, he hears it. He hears what he's been waiting for. He doesn't know who said it, but it was said nonetheless, and no doubt most of them were thinking it.

_"He doesn't realise how lucky he is."_

It makes Teddy's blood boil. Let them have the extravagant gifts from the_ famous _godfather. Let them have the newest racing broom in the world. Let them ride it around the pitch. Let them win the house cup with it. Let them face the fact that the only reason it was bought was because their parents are dead and no one will tell them why.

For Teddy, it's a gift laced with the poisonous reminders of his tragic history.

He'd trade everything with them- let them be the _lucky_ ones, if that's what they think- if it meant _he_ could return home to his parents at the end of the school year. They don't realise how lucky they are.

Teddy's best friend Norman settles himself into the comfy chair beside Teddy. The broom lies upon the low table between the chairs and the fireplace. More than once, the thought of gently kicking the broom off the table and into the fire has crept into Teddy's head, but as soon as it arrives, he banishes it. He might think the gift is unnecessary, and he might resent the reason he's been given it, but he isn't malicious, and he knows that Harry means well. For that small commiseration, he supposes he must be grateful.

"It is nice, though, isn't it?" Norman offers. His eyes glitter as they glide along the broom's handle, drinking in every detailed cut and defined incision. Teddy can practically see the images flicking though Norman's head, of brooms being chased around the pitch and the Quidditch cup being held aloft as Teddy sits astride the gleaming broom.

Norman is a brilliant best friend, and he never fails to make Teddy laugh, but sometimes he isn't really very tactful, and this, Teddy thinks, could be one of those times. Norman ploughs on into his conversation, unaware of Teddy's sour mood.

"You've got to feel pretty special, Teddy. A Cepheid!" Norman moans enviously. "No one at Hogwarts has even _seen_ a Cepheid in real life before, let alone owned one!"

"It's because they're racing brooms, Norman. I shouldn't have it. I can't use it to play school Quidditch games. It wouldn't be fair." Teddy replies bitterly.

"Who cares about fair! I can't _wait_ to see the Slytherins' faces when we beat them!"

"Fine. You can have it." Teddy turns in his chair. Norman just won't understand why Teddy is upset, and just like the rest of the Gryffindors, he seems too intent on the prospect of slaughtering the Slytherins on the Quidditch pitch to be interested in Teddy's feelings.

Norman laughs dryly. "If I had a broom even _half_ as nice as a Cepheid, I'd probably have to share it with my brother. Honestly, you're lucky you don't have to share it with anyone. You won't have to wipe sticky finger marks off the handle. You won't have to dig it out of any hedges. You won't have to spend a week fixing it when they crash it into the shed and bend all the bristles. You don't want me to have it, Teddy."

Something about the idea of having to share the broom with younger siblings makes Teddy smile. Teddy would happily trade a broom for a brother.

Back in his dormitory, away from all the judging, jealous eyes, Teddy settles onto his bed and pulls the curtains around it. He opens the book he retrieved from his trunk.

It is The Tales of Beedle the Bard. He wonders if it's childish for him to be reading fairy tales, but Teddy doesn't care. He had once borrowed a copy from Hermione, but she bought him his own copy for his birthday several years ago. His is now battered and the pages are dog-eared and torn, but he thinks it adds character. The only story he really reads is The Tale of the Three Brothers. It is easily his favourite of all of Beedle the Bard's tales. But it isn't because of the fantasy of the incredibly powerful wand, nor the invisibility cloak which Harry has tried to convince him is the same one he keeps in his cupboard, and it isn't even the draw of the stone that can resurrect deceased loved ones- it is simply the fact that they are brothers.


	14. Fifteen: Part Two

Part Two

Mrs Weasley has already been told about Harry's gift to Teddy. Her eldest Granddaughter had been keeping her well informed of Teddy's opinions towards it as the school term had progressed. It is what Mrs Weasley believes to be part of Harry's 'Sirius phase'; she has heard about how Sirius had bought Harry an expensive racing broom, so quick to repeat tradition Harry has presented the same gift to his Godson. But from what she can gather from Victoire's correspondence, Teddy hasn't really been as enamoured with his new broom as perhaps Harry had thought he would be.

Today, it is the first day of the summer holidays. Andromeda Tonks has been held up at Diagon Alley having lunch with some friends, so Teddy finds himself collected from the station by his Godfather. It is clear that Harry is excited to have Teddy back home; he doesn't stop to take a breath for the whole journey from the station to Grimmauld Place, and only pauses when it is his turn to step into the floo and request 'The Burrow'.

Supper at The Burrow on the first day of the summer is becoming somewhat of a new tradition, and Mrs Weasley is far from objecting to it. She likes to get her family together at every chance she can, and as more and more of her Grandchildren are going off to Hogwarts each year, it is becoming more and more difficult. Beforehand, the kitchen is scrubbed twice with a bottle of Marvin McDougal's Miracle Mess Mystifier and the mop is set to work scouring the floor. The kitchen table is extended by some carefully placed extension charms, and Mrs Weasley is up at the crack of dawn getting the food prepared. It is, of course, all completely unnecessary- everyone would be more than happy with a supper of soup and rolls and each other's company, but Mrs Weasley is too intransigent to change.

Teddy sits at the extra-long kitchen table after supper is finished and offers to wash up the dinner things for Mr and Mrs Weasley- after all, they have had him over for dinner so it is only polite. They assure him that it is not needed, as they would probably leave them to wash themselves, but they thank him for the offer of course. He does, however, carry his plate from the table over to the sink. It always makes Mrs Weasley smile- he is far too polite for a fifteen year old. His parents would be proud.

She notices how glum Teddy looks and she thinks it might have something to do with his new gift. She collects two cracked mugs from the corner cupboard and taps each one with her wand, before making her way across the kitchen to the forlorn looking fifteen year old. "Well, Teddy, I can't offer much, but I can offer tea and sympathy." She places a mug of steaming, hot tea on the table, motions for Teddy to sit down, and lowers herself into the chair beside him. Teddy is shaken out of his stupor.

"Is it the broom?" Mrs Weasley asks knowingly.

Teddy nods glumly. "It's a lovely gift, it really is, but I just don't deserve it. I _know_ Harry bought it me because he thought I needed cheering up because it was the anniversary of their death, but I didn't want a broom. I wanted my mum and dad. I just really miss them sometimes. I keep thinking of that every time I see that broom. I really like the broom, but I feel guilty, like I'm trying to replace them with a broomstick. And, you know, I was studying for my O. and I kept thinking about my exams and it just made me wonder if they'd think I was clever. Or if they would tell me that I needed to study harder." Teddy tells her honestly. He doesn't know what it is, but he's sure he would tell Mrs Weasley anything.

She pats him comfortingly on the arm and blinks back her tears. "Oh, Teddy, dear," She begins. "You work so hard, and I know that sometimes life doesn't seem fair, Teddy. Believe me I know. But we can't mope around too much. We've got each other and that's more than some have. We are lucky, in our own way. You don't have to begrudge yourself luxuries, Teddy, and you don't have to feel guilty about the broom. You've put up with ever so much and you _do _deserve it so don't let yourself think otherwise." Teddy's eyes are dark, and inquisitive, and so like his mothers'. She has to look away.

She looks out of the kitchen and over to her family now gathered in the living room. She watches Percy throw his head back in glee, and there's a mischievous twinkle nestled in George's eyes. "You can mourn what you don't have, Teddy, but it's more important to appreciate what you do." Mrs Weasley's mouth twitches into a sad smile.

"They'd be so proud of you. _So_ proud. I know it." She squeezes his arm. "We're proud of you." She offers him a watery smile and a shaky laugh. "Honestly, Teddy, I think you could raise hell through the Hogwarts corridors and terrorise the teachers, and they wouldn't admit to it but they'd be proud of you still. As long as you've got a smile on your face, they'll be proud. Trust me." And as if on cue, Teddy flashes a faint smile- it's rare, and earnest, and so like his fathers'.

He steps on her heart, that boy.

Teddy spends the rest of the evening thinking about Mrs Weasley's words. He won't mourn what he doesn't have, but appreciate what he does. He remembers thinking how nice it would be to share the broom, and he realises that although he doesn't_ have_ to, like Norman would, he _wants_ to- and he has a whole queue of people waiting for a go.

Whoever said it, right at the beginning of term when Teddy had brooded over his new broomstick, had spoken the truth. He doesn't realise how lucky he is.

As he heads through the sitting room and towards the door so that he can collect his bag and trunk and floo home to his Grandmother, he catches Lily crouched in front of his backpack. She is clutching something purple in her hands. She rises from in front of the bag and turns to hurry sneakily into the kitchen. But before she does, she hears a very soft cough from behind her.

Teddy, quietly clearing his throat, catches her attention. He can't do anything but smile across the room at Lily. It's not often that she sees him smile, but she is instantly captured by Teddy's contagious grin, and she turns towards him and smiles back, giggling mischievously.

When Teddy unpacks his backpack later that evening, he finds that one of the chocolate frogs he bought on the train and kept in the front pocket of his school bag is missing, but he isn't surprised. Each time he comes home from Hogwarts, at Christmas, Easter and Summer, he has bought two chocolate frogs from the lady with the trolley and stored one in the front pocket of his bag, the zip left slightly open. The chocolate frog always goes missing, but he still keeps it in the same place. Teddy is clever enough to work out what happens. Chocolate frogs don't just hop away of their own accord.

But he doesn't mind. He doesn't _have_ to, but he _wants_ to. He likes to have someone to share something with. And besides, isn't that what any normal fifteen year old would do for their little sister?


	15. Seventeen

Seventeen.

Teddy is seventeen. He has had the week from hell- and it isn't over yet. He feels as though his week has been lifted straight from the pages of Dante's Inferno. On Monday, a very pretty Ravenclaw asked him if his father was Remus Lupin- the one she had read about in a book recently. She threw a pearly white smile at him and Teddy was caught off-guard; his knees buckled, his cheeks reddened, and he managed to choke out a strangled 'yes' before he submitted to staring at her with a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. By Tuesday, every single person in his year knew his father was a werewolf. As if studying for his N.E.W.T.s isn't bad enough, he now has to deal with the repercussions this revelation brings.

"Oi! Lupin!" The voice bounces across the courtyard and sends a shiver down Teddy's spine. He knows what's coming next. He stands fixed to the spot, unsure whether to hurry off down the corridor and pretend he didn't hear, or to turn and face his tormentor like a true Gryffindor. His hesitation lasts just a fraction of a second too long.

"Didn't you hear me?" The voice shouts again. "I thought _beasts-_" he hurls the word at Teddy as though each letter is laced with poison "-were supposed to have a good sense of hearing!" Hushed laughter snakes through the atmosphere. "To catch their _prey._ Their _innocent victims."_ He spits each syllable into the dusky air.

Teddy's fist curls up into a ball. He can hear heavy footsteps across the cobbled floor. He has no option but to turn around and face the owner of the voice- Victor Diablo.

"Of course, you wouldn't know, would you, Lupin?" Victor is a Slytherin, and he plays in the same position as Teddy in Quidditch. The two are natural enemies on the pitch. "Your dad would." The taunt makes Teddy clench his teeth. He had always tried to be so careful when he spoke about his father. He isn't ashamed of his dad, but he'd rather the Slytherins' didn't know. The taunting has become unbearable. "_Shame he's dead._" A scream of laughter from Victor's friends ruptures across the courtyard.

"Oh, Victor!" Another voice adds. Teddy thinks it might be Henry, one of Victor's henchmen, but his mind swims in a sea of red and he cannot think straight. "You do make me _howl!" _Immediately, the group of boys break out into a grating chorus of werewolf noises and hysterical laughter. Victor throws his head skywards, pounds his chest and imitates a wolf.

"Are we making you homesick, Lupin?" Another burst of laughter. "Do you miss the rest of your pack?" Teddy cannot see his hair turning flame red, but he can sense it, and the pointing and laughing of the boys confirms it.

"Bad people become werewolves, Lupin. They're soulless and evil and deserve nothing but death. What's it like knowing that your dad was a monster who _killed_ people?" Victor's torment is fervent with malice. "That's what werewolves do. Oh, but, your dad wouldn't, would he? He wanted to live like a normal wizard. He was a bad werewolf, and an even worse wizard. At least, that's what the history books say." Teddy wishes he could think of a smart comeback, but the anger bubbles through his veins so strongly, that he cannot think of anything at all.

"You should tell your mum, Lupin, that there are better classes of people to be shacking up with than _werewolves. _Real wizards." His face is inches away from Teddy's. "Oh, you can't." Victor's voice is a whisper now. "_Cause she's dead too._"

He tries to remember everything Harry has told him about how he shouldn't let words hurt him, and he tries to be the better person- for his parents' sake. He tries desperately hard not to retaliate. But before he realises what he's done, Victor is lying on his back on the cold stone floor of the courtyard, with Teddy's hands pressed on his throat. Teddy lifts a hand from Victor's throat, clenches his fist and drives it- hard- into the side of his face. He hears his hand connect with Victor's nose before he feels it. The adrenaline stops the feeling of the dull ache throbbing through his fingers. He loses count of the number of punches he throws. He lifts Victor by the shoulders, grabs handfuls of his hair and slams his head back against the cobbles, before shoving his knee deep into Victor's chest. He knows it's wrong, but Teddy throws his fist once again into Victor's face. And this time, there is blood- _lots _of blood- and Teddy is sure it isn't his. It drips from his knuckles onto their school robes.

He stares down at Victor and looks at his mauled face. His nose is almost non-existent, such was the force of Teddy's punches, blood is smeared across his cheeks and under his eye, and it drips steadily from the corner of his mouth. Teddy's never realised how strong he is. He looks up at the boys gathered around- Victor's henchmen- and their faces are distorted into expressions of horrified disgust. He can feel himself clenching his teeth, and he realises he must look manic. He must look like a beast destroying his prey. Victor's words echo around his head.

Teddy has to remind himself to breathe. He is visibly trembling, and before he can do anything else he will come to regret, he rises from on top of Victor, turns on his heel and flees the courtyard.

His feet seem to work independently. He allows them to carry him through the castle, turning left, right, down side corridors and through locked doors, until he stops alongside a seemingly solid wall, pulls aside a vast tapestry and sneaks behind it. It is a hidden passageway he only knows about because of the map.

He's not sure how long he sits there, trapped by the thoughts in his mind and barely able to find it within himself to keep breathing.

He cannot believe what he has done. He had wanted to face him like a Gryffindor, but instead, he had faced him like a monster. He has no idea what came over him, but he has no excuse for it. It was as if some exterior force came over him and took control of his actions, like a part of his brain he never knew was there took over without his permission. Still his head aches and his heart pounds with anger. Teddy is sure he could have coped with anything that was aimed at him, but jokes about his parents cross the line. But that was no way to react. He rose to the bait- and went too far.

He thinks about what will happen now. The teachers will find out, and they'll have to tell his guardians. The headmistress will be ashamed. Harry will be disappointed. Ginny will be upset. His grandmother might cry. He could be expelled, and won't be able to sit his N.E.W.T examinations.

He still doesn't know where the anger came from. He's never fought before in his life. Maybe it's from his parents-they did run into a war, after all- and he may be more like them than he realises. Was Victor right- were his parents' bad people?

Something stuffed between a gap in the brickwork of the walls catches his eye. He pulls roughly on it, and a dog-eared, dust covered book comes free from its hiding place, the jagged edges of the bricks tearing at the book's cover. Teddy's eyes drag across the gilded letters on the spine and his brain functions for long enough to put them together to form the word 'werewolves'. He barely registers the rest of the title; he cannot be bothered to learn what propaganda it boasts of that lies between the pages. He flicks the cover open and sees the Hogwarts crest printed on the first creamy page, smudged with dirt and years of wear. 'Property of Hogwarts Library' is stamped below. And beneath this is written just three names, accompanied by three respective return dates. Teddy takes in the names, and he cannot help but laugh bitterly.

With his father's name staring back at him from the paper, the last name of the list, and knowing that he clearly never returned it to the library, Teddy thinks it's some kind of cruel joke- especially after what has just happened. His father would have been the very last person to read it, the last person to hold it, to hide it- and because of that, Teddy cannot bear to look at it. He chucks it unceremoniously in a rough heap on the stone floor, and the book falls open. Strange markings on the page catch Teddy's eye, and despite everything, his curiosity gets the better of him, and he picks the book back up for closer inspection. Ink, from his father's quill, neatly underlines an italicised sentence around two third of the way down the left hand page. The book has fallen open to the page his father spent the most time looking at, and underlined is the sentence in the book that had affected his father the most.

_'Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.'_

The words resonate in his heart. Teddy flips to the front of the book, and begins to read. He is so used to finding solace between the pages of a tattered paperback, and once again he feels soothed as he reads the very same words his father had read before him. He feels like a hand has reached out from the page and taken his, and he no longer feels alone.

* * *

_I definitely enjoyed writing this more than I should have. Maybe I'm a secret Slytherin haha!_


	16. Seventeen: Part Two

Part Two.

"Try me!" James bellows down the corridor. "Come on! I dare you!"

The pack of Slytherins that James' angry tirade is being launched at break out into howls of laughter, screeching and cackling echoing off the stone walls. There's a lot of elbow shoving and hustling as James's arch nemesis- Darren Diablo- is pushed forward. He throws his head back cockily and rolls his eyes at his friends. _This'll be easy_, he thinks. But James is ready for him. He'll show him. He's had enough of all the constant name calling, he's fed up with being the butt of all the jokes. He shoves the sleeves of his robes up his arms and reaches into his pocket to extract his wand. He's already decided the spell, and he holds his wand forward, the incantation inches from leaving his lips. But Darren Diablo is too fast- he fires his spell down the corridor with such force and speed James can't help but be impressed- which is annoying.

"Expelliarmus!" The spells shoots towards James and his wand soars from his right hand and falls onto the floor beside him with a clatter. James stands stock still, mouth hanging open. _Catching flies_, as Teddy would say. The corridor is alive once again with the chorus of the Slytherins' laughter. "You should have expected that one! After all, it is your Dad's speciality!" One of them cries. More laughter.

James wastes no time shutting his mouth, composing himself and racing to pick up his wand. He's got no idea what he'll do next, but on instinct he charges forward like a warrior entering battle. A very clueless warrior entering a rather uneven battle, but that's how he feels nonetheless.

"JAMES POTTER!" The voice grounds him in his tracks. He watches a sly, smarmy grin snake across Darren's face, as James is caught in the act. He postpones turning around until the very last second, when he can practically hear the teacher breathing behind him.

James has been caught be the new astronomy professor, who is already not really a fan of James. Astronomy is terribly dull, James has found, and apparently astronomy teachers do not like to be told that. And it is also apparently rather rude to fall asleep in front of a telescope. He doesn't stand a chance. Fighting, duelling and doing magic in corridors is strictly against the rules and James hasn't got a leg to stand on- if he's learnt anything from fighting with Albus, it's that _'he started it' _is never a good enough excuse.

He searches desperately around for an excuse of some kind, but he just can't think of one. His heart beats in his chest. This is _another_ detention, maybe even a weeks' worth, he's sure of it. He's annoyed at himself, mostly. He'd never planned on getting himself into so much trouble at Hogwarts; it just sort of, happened.

The steady _clip-clop_ of shoes echo behind both James and the professor. This will be another teacher and it will just get worse. James hangs his head, ashamed, and awaits his punishment.

James only started Hogwarts that September. Despite what he had told everyone, he had been fairly apprehensive. He was _convinced_ that there would be a run-in with an incredibly dangerous snake, he would be confronted by an escaped Azkaban convict, or one of his teachers would be under some kind of curse or drinking some sort of potion. Being the Chosen One's son sort of had that effect, and the countless tales from Ron definitely didn't help. But he couldn't tell anyone that, of course. There had been only one reassuring fact for James-

A familiar voice shouts down from the end of the corridor, and James' heart soars.

-Teddy would be there. Teddy was, in James' eyes, unbelievably _cool_, and despite how hard he tried to replicate it he just couldn't master Teddy's polite charm and what Harry referred to as his 'contagious smile'. He had an effortless way with lessons and homework, a friendly rapport with the teachers and got away with calling them by their first names, a diplomatic approach that got him out of almost any detention, and he was Gryffindor Head Boy. He was Hogwarts' goldenboy, and could do absolutely no wrong. According to James, of course. So he was quietly confident in the belief that Teddy would swoop in to save the day any time James was in trouble. He hadn't been around all the time, however, and most of the time James' deserved his detentions, but today was James' lucky day. Here he was; James' hero.

"Stella- err, sorry, _Professor Lunare_." Teddy calls as he strides towards the teacher. His uniform is crisp and clean, and his headboy badge shines in the dim light. As James looks down at his own creased, dirty and torn robes he feels embarrassed. Why, he thinks, can't he be as effortlessly cool as Teddy?!

The astronomy teacher seems bewitched by Teddy's sudden appearance. She blinks, trying to avoid seeming too dazed. "Lupin," She announces, as if suddenly remembering why she is here.

"Oh, sorry Professor." Teddy looks around the professor at James and the Slytherins, shaking nervously in the corridor. "I can see you're busy. Don't let me stop you." He motions towards James and flashes a pearly white smile at the teacher. Have his teeth always been so _white_? James wonders. It's dark in the corridor and they're practically luminous.

"Oh, right, yes." Teddy's smile has obviously thrown the professor. "Right, yes, you boys." She turns back to face James, but she's clearly struggling to remember why she is here, in a dark corridor, confronting a group of first years.

"A detention, perhaps?" Teddy offers. James whips across to glare at Teddy- what is he doing?! This isn't what James had thought would have happened. Why was he giving James a detention? He was going to tell his Dad about this later. James stares at Teddy- why is his hair so _neat?_ And is he glowing? The corridor suddenly doesn't seem as dark. Yes, Teddy seems to be radiating some kind of aura- an angelic glow. Why wasn't he born a metamorphmagus?, thinks James.

The Professor seems to have come to her senses. "Lupin, why weren't you at _your_ detention with me yesterday?"

"Me? I was at Quidditch practice yesterday. I don't book detentions if they coincide with Quidditch. You must be thinking of someone else."

"No, I'm sure it was you Lupin."

"Can't have been me, Stella. Thursday night is Quidditch practice night, not detention night."

James is watching the master at work- no one can get out of detentions quite like Teddy can. He is in awe- just how does Teddy do it?!

"Well, hang on then, what are you doing here now? It's Friday night. You have Astronomy on Friday nights, with Professor Sinistra."

"Full moon, Professor. But you knew that, of course." He replies calmly, light glinting off his smile, and James notices two of Teddy's front teeth have sharpened into an almost fang like shape. There's a strange yellow glow in his eyes. The Professor looks suddenly uneasy.

"Of course, of course." She replies quickly, waving her hand dismissively.

James has known Teddy all his life- since when has he been affected by the full moon? He looks at Teddy with defiant eyes, and is about to blurt something out, but Teddy is glaring at him and willing him to keep his mouth shut, and for once in his life, James keeps quiet.

"Shouldn't you be in your common room? It's past curfew." Teddy is addressing James now, and he silently nods, utterly confused. "I'll escort them, don't worry. Goodnight, Stella." He nods politely at the professor- how does he get away with calling them by their first names?!- and waves the Slytherins off, all of whom are equally terrified that Teddy might be a werewolf, and he walks to James and puts his arms across his shoulder, pushing him around the corner, down a staircase and away from the teacher.

James is bewildered; he has no idea what just happened.

They are heading down the stairs, to the dungeons, not up the stairs, to the Gryffindor common room, but James doesn't say anything. "Are you going to tell me what happened with that boy?" Teddy asks quietly as they walk.

James wonders whether to tell Teddy the truth; to let him know that he is being picked on. He doesn't want Teddy to laugh at him, or think he's a baby. But what began as humourous jests seem to have spiralled into something more hurtful. James is the very top of the Slytherins' hitlist and in their eyes, undesirable number one. He is very proud of his father, but as he has come to discover, not everyone is as pleased that James' father is the Boy who Lived. He needs advice on how to deal with it- and there is only one other person that he thinks might have had to suffer this.

"Teddy," James begins. "What do you do about bullies?"

Teddy walks slowly forward. "Is that boy bullying you?"

"And some other Slytherins. They makes jokes about my Dad. I know he's lame, but it's only okay for me to say that."

"James, your dad saved the whole Wizarding world. Who else can boast about that? Let the Slytherins say what they want, and ignore it. They'll get over it eventually. That's probably not what you wanted to hear and I guess you wanted some practical advice…"

"Have you ever been bullied because of Dad?" James asks immediately.

"Not _your_ Dad."

"So what's your _'practical advice'_?" James asks, thinking he might be about to learn a cool new curse from his hero. "What did you do?"

"I threw away my wand and punched him. And kicked him. And punched him again." Teddy grits his teeth, embarrassed. "Several times actually. It's a miracle I wasn't expelled."

James doesn't know whether to believe Teddy. It doesn't seem like something he would do. And anyway, James is sure he wouldn't be very good in a fistfight- the only person he's tried to beat up is Albus and he's always been stopped by his mother before he can get any good punches in. He had been hoping Teddy would have offered some slightly more helpful advice.

Teddy sees James' apprehensive look. "I wouldn't recommend that, though." He reassures him. "There's no use reasoning with bullies, they won't listen. I know that isn't the advice I'm supposed to give you but it's the truth. Your mum knows a fantastic bat-bogie hex, you should get her to teach it you. That would probably be a much better thing to do. Probably less messy. Definitely less risk of killing your opponent. But if you do resort to a good old punch up, I know a charm that gets blood out of school robes."

"Thanks, Teddy. I think." James let out a strangled, forced laugh. Teddy is joking- isn't he?

They round the corner, and find Darren Diablo sitting on a bench on the left hand side of the corridor with another, older boy. The two talk in hushed whispers. James stops, but Teddy walks bravely on.

"I take it that it runs in the family then, Diablo." Teddy calls towards them, and both boys sitting on the bench look up. Victor Diablo stands up from the bench and turns to face them. Teddy carries on walking, until he is inches away from Victor. Victor seems big, and James guesses that Victor must be at least six foot tall- and suddenly, so is Teddy, it seems, for the two stand eye to eye. Teddy's eyes still glow eerily yellow, unblinking. Victor step back slightly, clearly unnerved, and turns towards James. He stares at him, trying to make him uncomfortable, but with Teddy here, James is completely cool.

Victor lets out a cold, low laugh. "I should have known it would be _your_ brother." He spits at them, before turning to collect Darren from the bench and ushering him quickly down the corridor.

It was just a slip of the tongue, no doubt, but neither James nor Teddy felt the need to correct him.

James narrows his eyes and looks at Teddy suspiciously. "Full moon doesn't affect you. Are you skiving class?"

"I'm saving your skin. Be grateful." Teddy replies.

"Did you lie to a teacher? I'll tell Dad."

"Shut up James."

_"Shut up James."_ James repeats in a high pitched, mocking voice, causing Teddy to roll his eyes and scowl at the boy. Teddy aims a soft swipe at James' arm, and James pushes him back in return. They have arrived in the basement, in front of a painting of a fruit bowl. Curiously, Teddy reaches forward towards the painting, and tickles the pear, which turns into a doorknob. Teddy opens it, revealing the Hogwarts kitchens.

James cannot help but look up to Teddy- his best friend, his idol, and the only person he would _never_ give an earwax flavoured Bertie Botts bean to. He glances over at Teddy, whose irritated scowl has instantly vanished from his face, to be replaced with a benign, toothy grin. And James doesn't know what it is about Teddy's smile- but he suspects this is why his father calls it contagious- that he finds himself smiling at Teddy too. Teddy looks out for James, and is just like any other normal older brother. Victor was right. They are brothers. Teddy is their brother in everything but blood.

* * *

_This is probably one of my favourite chapters. I wish I'd been this cool at school! I only ever got out of a detention once because I told the teacher I didn't think it was a good enough reason for a detention (I think I'd forgotten to get my parents to sign something) but that was the only time._

_Although I actually used to have a teacher at school whose name we knew begun with T and I convinced everyone that his name was Tarquin (I've got no idea why) to the point where I addressed him as Tarquin in class constantly and he thought it was funny so he never picked me up on it. (I later found out it was Tom.) Does that count as getting away with calling my professors by their first names? haha!_


	17. Eighteen

_This is angry/sad Teddy and I don't really know whether I like this chapter. I'm calling it Teddy's 'book-five' phase (except Teddy isn't part horcrux so he can't use the same excuse Harry did for being moody haha!)_

* * *

Eighteen.

Teddy is eighteen. He is a true teenager. If he were cut open he would bleed pure teen angst.

"You _saw_ them?!"

It is the Eighteenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Classes there have been cancelled and all members of the Wizarding Community have been invited to a remembrance service to pay their respects. They gather together once the service is over, and discuss the only topic of the day further; dearly departed friends.

The service went as well as could be expected; once again Harry had been asked to say a few words, once again they had spent several minutes in silence remembering those who gave their lives, once again wands had been held aloft and alight, and once again lilies were distributed throughout the gathered crowds in honour of the dead.

Once again, Teddy had been silent all day.

But now, his sudden outburst had silenced everyone else. It had been as a result of Mrs Weasley's bereaved sentiments on Lupin and Tonks' deaths- _'still such a tragedy. Their happiness so short lived. When we saw them there, together…'._

No one had realised Teddy was there; they had believed him to be elsewhere playing with the other children. But Teddy is at that in between age where he no longer wishes to be grouped with 'the kids', but he is not old enough to be part of 'the adults'. As such, he finds himself drifting between the two.

Teddy had overheard them recount it all; his father arriving- alone- in the Room Of Requirement, his mother- told to stay at home with the baby- turning up, intent on finding him and joining him, their bodies being brought into the Great Hall- together. Now, the revelation that Mrs Weasley had seen his parents, lying dead, was too much.

"No. Teddy, dear. It's not like that." Mrs Weasley fusses around him, and tries to pat his arm compassionately, but Teddy moves away. Andromeda has dealt with Teddy's angst before, and Harry has had plenty of angst of his own before. He knows how Teddy feels.

"It is!" He protests. "It's exactly what it sounds like! You saw my parents' _dead bodies_ dragged across this courtyard and into there!" He points towards the Great Hall inside the castle.

"No, Teddy. I didn't mean…" Mrs Weasley tries again to placate him, but he cuts her off.

"Oh, didn't you?! Well, what did you mean then?!" His eyes are wide and he laughs harshly, almost manically, but he doesn't know why. He doesn't know what to say next, and by looking around at the others, all avoiding his eye contact, he guesses they are at a loss for words too.

It is cruel, thinks Teddy. The number of _families_ gathered there. Offering hollowed condolences and paying empty respects. "An awful loss." Says one. "A great shame." Says another. "Such a brave child." He's heard it all before. It does not explain why _both_ his parents left him to fight in the war. It does not seem fair to Teddy that he is the one suffering the most.

"I want to see." Teddy says, matter-of-factly.

Harry speaks, but his voice is so quiet he can barely be heard. "_What?"_

"I want to see what you saw." He gestures roughly towards Mrs Weasley and swallows heavily. "The… the war. Them. I want to see it. Someone must have a memory- show it to me!"

"Teddy." Harry breaths, disbelief haunting his face.

"I have a right!" Cries Teddy. "I deserve to see it!"

"No." Mrs Weasley's voice is shaking. "You do not." She wipes tears from the corners of her eyes. Her face is set, firm. "No one deserves to see their parents die."

Teddy finds that he is barely breathing. He hadn't expected Mrs Weasley- so often kind to Teddy, and cautious of the subject– to put it so bluntly. He can feel his eyes stinging, holding back the tears he refuses to shed. He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what to say, so he runs; holding together whatever shreds of dignity he still has left and leaving the gathered crowds of mourners and their spurious condolences behind.

Teddy runs from the courtyard through the castle on a route he's been before; his breath comes in ragged gasps and he gets a strange sense of déjà vu every time he turns a corner, opens a locked door or runs down yet another corridor. Eventually he reaches his destination, stopping alongside a seemingly solid wall. He pulls aside the tapestry and sneaks through the gap, carefully past the suit of armour mysteriously hidden there, and collapses against the wall.

He contemplates his outburst; the scene he caused. They are all far too kind, and he does not deserve any of them. They show him he is loved in simple ways; the way Ginny calls him 'sweetheart', how his Grandmother makes 'Teddy' sound so childish but he secretly yearns for it. The way Harry makes him feel completely deserving of the spontaneous and utterly unnecessary gifts he'd buy him, how Ron would never tell him off but join in and laugh, how Mrs Weasley always seems to offer him, a lost orphan, unconditional kindness and comfort. And this is the way he shows his thanks.

A poor way to repay his parents' sacrifice.

He can think of nothing else, and the deafening silence exaggerates his harrowing thoughts. He's never felt so ashamed. He wishes more than ever he had something to take his mind off things, but he finds himself without books or games, without inane chatter, without company. He has nothing, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he feels truly alone.


	18. Eighteen: Part Two

Part Two.

The sound of scuffed feet echo along the corridor. "Teddy?" Harry calls out softly. He has no idea where Teddy could be, and has been running along the countless number of Hogwarts hallways for what feels like forever, stumbling down stairs and along secret passages that he thinks he didn't even visit when he was at school. He reaches the end of the corridor and is wondering whether to turn left or right when a sound like rattling chainmail disturbs the silence. He turns around and retraces his steps back along the corridor, when he spots a familiar looking tapestry, which would look very ordinary if Harry did not know about the very unordinary secret it concealed.

It is a hiding place only knows of because of the map, and evidently, this is how Teddy discovered it too, for crouching beside the recently disturbed suit of armour is an incredibly defeated eighteen year old. Harry sinks to the floor opposite him, resting his back on the wall. He takes in his tired look, his mousy hair, his ashen face, and his deadened, dark eyes. Harry thinks that Teddy, whilst so often melancholy, has never looked so sad, so upset. So broken.

"Teddy," Harry begins, but Teddy cuts him off.

"Don't bother, Harry. I don't care." Teddy replies curtly. "I've had enough. I don't care anymore." His expression is calm, almost detached.

"You do care, Teddy."

Teddy shrugs apathetically. "Look, all I know is that dad was a werewolf called Moony and mum was a clumsy metamorphmagus, and they met at the beginning of the war, got married in the middle, and died at the end. And, oh, weren't they_ brave."_ Teddy sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. He aims a hefty kick at the base of the suit of armour, the metal clattering aloud.

"Teddy," Harry rebukes half-heartedly. He can sympathise with Teddy- he feels like history is repeating itself. Harry knows what it is like to be shut off from everything. He knows what it feels like to be kept so in the dark. He wonders why he never told Teddy much about them, and he realises that the answer is simple- it _is _a tragic tale, and Harry never wanted to spoil what comfort Teddy found. He cared about Teddy too much. He acted as fools who love are expected to act.

He feels like he's let them all down- Lupin, Tonks, and Teddy.

"I remember when we used to call you Teddy-bear. Then one day, about a month after you turned eleven, for some reason you didn't like the nickname any more, and I called it you and you shuddered and said '_don't call me Teddy-bear, Harry.'_ And I thought to myself, that's almost _exactly_ what your mother said the very first time I ever met her. And I couldn't believe how the two of you could be so alike!

"And you know the umbrella stand, Teddy, in our hallway? You tripped over it once when you came round. And you told me, right there, that it was hideous and ugly and a trip hazard, and you had no idea why we kept it. And you tripped and fell face first into the stairs and I didn't do anything to help but I just couldn't, Teddy. Every time we walk past it we think of your mum- she was always stumbling into it. And usually it's nice and it reminds us of how she'd make us laugh, and the only reason we keep it is because of that. But when you, Teddy, of all people, fell over it, and you were apologising at first, I just couldn't stop thinking about how your mum would do the _exact_ same thing.

"And remember you found that Boggart once in a suitcase in your Grandmother's attic? And I couldn't do anything about that either, Teddy, I just couldn't stop thinking about your Dad. He taught me all about them. They materialise as your fears, Ted, and do you know what your Dad's advice was? To laugh at it, don't let it overcome you. That's all." Harry smiles at the memory. "But I couldn't even do that. So Hermione had to deal with it. Imagine that- Harry Potter, Auror, who fought Voldemort, can't even defeat a Boggart.

"You know, Ted, your dad's Boggart was a full moon. That's what his fear was. He was scared of it. Imagine what we all felt when you used to tell us that the moon would follow you and that you'd hide under your bed because you were scared of it." Harry smiles across at Teddy. "I don't know if you still do that now."

Teddy laughs quietly into the shady darkness of their hideout, and gently shakes his head in reply.

"You're more alike than you realise, Teddy. You'll stand up for people who won't stand up for themselves, and both your parents did, too. You could probably reason your way out of a death eater attack and so could your Dad. You persevere with everything until you get what you want. A lot of people would say it's stubborn, but we say it's from your mother. And the only person I ever met with a sense of humour as dark as yours was your father.

"I watch you start to concentrate on something, and your eyes will widen and you'll have quickly worked it all out in your head, Teddy, and suddenly there's Professor Lupin sitting across the table from me. When you've done something so completely different to your face that I can barely recognise you it could be Tonks bounding up to me, for all I know. You think with your head, Teddy. Like your dad. Logical and realistic. But you follow your heart. Like your mum."

He's the living embodiment of their best qualities, and Harry can't help but feel incredibly proud of him. And it's taken him eighteen years to be able to tell Teddy.

"But Harry, why did it have to be them?" Teddy whispers softly, but Harry feels as though he's shouted it through a roaring roll of thunder, and still it rings in his ears. He feels the colour drain from his face.

Harry can remember clearly what it was like when he was about Teddy's age- he was a hunted target; undesirable number one. The very top of Voldemort's hitlist. The Dark Lord's prize. What Harry would have given to have a childhood like Teddy's; to grow up in such a peaceful world, no constant threat of potential death, no hiding, no running, no killing curses, no war-

No parents. Every war had its casualties; it just seemed so unfair that Teddy, who had to live with the everlasting consequences of the war, had really suffered the most- and at the time he had no idea it was happening. Harry hated thinking of that time, of the war. Was it selfish for Harry to think the lucky ones were the ones who lay dead? They would never experience the frightening terror of having those horrific scenes from the battlefield run through their minds, late at night, over and over. They would never wake up in a cold sweat, screaming, feeling completely useless, as their brain replayed the same images of bloodshed, of dying friends and of grief-stricken, anguished relatives. They would never have to cope with the loss, deal with the recovery, and watch a helpless infant grow up without the two most important people in his world. Sure, the war had meant an end to evil, but how could Harry explain it to Teddy- would he understand that a safe world to grow up in is more important than having his parents?

When the evil wage war, it's the good who die.

"I don't know." Harry replies honestly. "I know you're upset. They did it for a good cause, and they had the best intentions for you at heart. They were brave, and they saved a lot of people. I don't know if that's any consolation really, Teddy…" Harry drifts slowly off.

They feel alone, but they are together. The two sit together, as brothers. They do not mourn what they don't have; they appreciate everything they do. They are immensely thankful for each other. Teddy, for the honesty and solace of his Godfather, and Harry, for the reminder of two of his bravest friends.

"Thanks, Harry." Teddy whispers, a slow but familiar smile creeping across his face, as he finally realises just how lucky he is.

"Thanks, Teddy." Harry replies, Teddy's contagious grin making it almost impossible to stop himself smiling back. There aren't many people who are lucky enough to be able to choose their family, Harry thinks, but he's one of the lucky ones- and he couldn't have picked anyone better. He stretches his legs, and rests them against the brickwork of the wall opposite. The toe of his shoe knocks against something sticking out of a crack between the bricks, and Harry reaches across to wiggle it out of its place. He pushes his glasses up his nose slightly to read the title. The scant light glints on the gold lettering of the front page.

Harry reads the title aloud. "_Eilonwy's Allegory:_ _Wonderings on-"_

_"Werewolves."_ Teddy finishes.

"Is it yours?" He asks Teddy, puzzled. A strange, wry smile crosses Teddy's face, and he shakes his head. Teddy's been here before, and the last time he was here he'd beaten up Victor Diablo. He'd found the book there, too, but he'd left it where it was- a secret only he and his Dad knew about.

"I've read it, but it's not mine." He replies. "It's a library book. Checked out by my Dad, actually. I guess he forgot to return it. Perhaps he forgot where it was." As he says it, he sees the truth in Harry's words earlier. There's about four books- that he knows of- somewhere in the castle, checked out from the library in Teddy's name and which should have already been returned. He's both forgotten about them and forgotten where there are, and the librarian is already after his blood. Returning his father's book- forty years late- probably won't help his case. It's true what Harry said- he and his parents are more alike than he realises. Teddy can't help himself; a spasm of laughter escapes his chest, and the strangled sound is a relief to the both of them. "I can't take it back now. Imagine a forty year library fine!"

Teddy's always thought of himself as an orphan and an only child- but he doesn't know why. He's got all the family he needs.


	19. Two Weeks

Two Weeks.

Teddy is two weeks old. War is raging, friends are dying, and the world is being destroyed.

He lies quietly in his mother's arm, sleeping softly. He, his mother and his father are outside, revelling in the early evening spring air. It is the first really fine day they've had in months. The sky is a vast, clear, forget-me-not blue and there's a feeling in the air of summer coming. Of something coming. The sun is slowly sinking. Quiet birds in circled flight chirp gentle melodies to the trees. They are in the garden of Tonks' mothers' house, looking out at the dense woods behind. When Tonks had been younger, she had been frightened of what might have been in there. Now, the monster in the woods that she was warned about stands beside her, and she thinks that he's never looked so happy- and she's never loved him more.

It's quiet and peaceful and still, and the Dark Lord is a distant terror.

Tonks finds herself thinking of the future of the tiny baby sleeping in her arms. She cannot wait to hear her son mutter 'Mum' and 'Dad', filled with gurgled sounds of his first immortal words, to the times when it is shouted down stairs, laced with heat-of-the-moment hatred from the anger bubbling through teenage veins.

They will hear him say his first word together. They will watch him together as he takes his first shaky steps. They'll be there, holding their son's hand, when he is taken to meet his Godfather's offspring- because Lupin and Tonks are _sure_ it's going to happen. The Marauders were always related in everything but blood, they'll be like cousins. They will take their son out for ice-cream. They will teach him to play Gobstones and Wizard Chess. They will have picnics in the garden like she used to when she was little- or more likely the kitchen, given the abysmal British summer weather. They'll take him to the park to play that muggle game her father sometimes played- what is it again? Football? When their son's old enough they'll teach him responsibility; he'll go to the shops on errands by himself.

He'll feel ready to go to Hogwarts- unlike Tonks when she was eleven. They will stand on the station platform together and wave their son goodbye, and they'll make sure to stand in the exact same spot when he returns for Christmas after his first term at Hogwarts. They'll let him know how much they have missed him. And they'll be proud of him whichever house he finds himself in. It'll have gained a brilliant new member, and Teddy will be thoroughly deserving of his place.

They'll show him little displays of magic early on, and teach him all sorts of useful little charms and spells that he won't learn at Hogwarts. She's sure her husband will ask Harry for the map, and maybe he'll sneak it to his son one day with an owl sent to Hogwarts, and he can open it during breakfast. Knowing Remus, she thinks, he probably won't tell him how to use it, but let him work it out for himself. That way he won't feel like he's being a bad influence. He'll point out some places of interest, though, like the kitchens, so he can go and meet the Hogwarts house-elves.

When their son reaches third year she will make sure she sends some Galleons so he can visit Honeydukes on the Hogsmeade weekends. Maybe they would even go up there to meet him.

She looks down at the baby. Already, at just two weeks old, he looks like Remus. Tonks will tell him at every chance she gets that he looks so much like his father. She'll teach him to be proud when people see the resemblance and make the connection between him and his father, and eventually, she'll teach Remus to be proud of it, too.

They might not be able to shower him with gifts, but they'll give him the best they can afford, and they'll shower him with love. Together they'll teach him compassion and kindness. They'll teach him to always think of others. They'll teach him how to share.

They'll do whatever it takes to protect him. But she knows that no matter how hard they try, Teddy cannot live in a rose-tinted bubble. They'll be there, together, to placate him when it all gets too much and he is confronted with the awful realism of werewolf prejudices, and of everything else life can throw at him, and their son thinks everything is so very _unfair _in the world.

But for now, she is content to gaze at her little boy, and her husband beside her. Her family. If only time would fall asleep and leave them to savour the extinguishing afternoon sunshine. She wishes she could live in this perfect moment. Maybe they should- maybe the three of them should just lock themselves inside the house, close the curtains, switch off the wireless, and spend the rest of eternity in their perfect moment.

Lupin's hushed voice disturbs the quiet. "I never thought I'd grow up to be a father." He still doubts himself.

"I wonder what he will grow up to be." She asks with a somewhat faraway tone, still dreamily watching the baby resting in her arms. "Do you think he will be clever, Remus? And kind? I _know_ he'll be brave, he'll get that from you. But I don't think I could put up with another bloody noble Gryffindor- too busy sacrificing their life and being the hero all the time!"

"Well I couldn't put up with another stubborn Hufflepuff." He replies playfully, and she scowls at him. "Maybe he'll surprise us all and be a Ravenclaw."

It is an argument every set of Wizarding parents have. The age-old question of what house their newborn baby will find themselves in in eleven years' time. And he cannot put into words the happiness he feels being able to have this particular trivial argument. Once again he finds himself silently thanking her for saving his life.

_"I just don't understand it, though." She had told him. "Why would you leave?" _

_"I couldn't bear to think about what I had done to you, and to an innocent unborn baby. It was foolish. I was careless, Dora."_

_"This isn't about you!" She cried. _

_"I've ruined your lives."_

_"And why's that? Because you've been given the chance, for once in your life, to be happy?"_

_ "I don't deserve it! I'm too dangerous! I'm a werewolf, we don't breed, Dora!" Lupin had grasped at the air in frustration. "I'm a bloodthirsty dark creature! I'd kill you as soon as look as you!"_

_"Don't talk about yourself like that." She whispered, but Lupin didn't stop to listen to her objections._

_"Those aren't exactly desirable traits to be passed on! He wouldn't want me as a father! He'd be ashamed of me!"_

_ "Why would he be ashamed of you?!"_

_"Because of what I am!"_

_"Would you be ashamed of him, if he was a werewolf?"_

_Lupin visibly flinched at the idea. "Don't, Dora." He told her._

_Tonks sighed heavily. "So say he's a werewolf." He began to protest again, but she stopped him. "No, Remus. Just listen. If he is a werewolf- our baby, a werewolf- what then? Would you be ashamed of him?" Tonks' eyes shone fierce. "If he was beautiful and brave and kind and polite and the most wonderful person on earth, but he turned into a monster one night a month on full moon, what would you think of him? Would you think he was a burden? Something no one should have to put up with? Not worth bothering about? Too dangerous to be loved?"_

_"It's not like that, Dora." He pleaded._

_"No, Remus. Answer me." _

_Lupin paused, staring at his wife. She was unmoving, waiting for a reply. He knew his answer, but he couldn't decide if it was the right thing to say. He shifted his weight between his feet, before taking a deep, steadying breath. His head, ever logical and realistic, battled with his heart, recently healed, rich, warm and foolish. He was usually so sensible, but Dora, her outlook untainted, had an odd effect on him. For the second time in his life, he abandoned all pretence and went with his heart. It told him what he really wanted- and it was entirely hers. "You know I wouldn't. I would love him no matter what." he finally replied, unable to meet his wife's hard gaze._

_"Exactly. I know you would want him to be treated like everyone else, you wouldn't begrudge him certain things. You wouldn't judge him on what he can't help. You would see him for what he was; our blessing. Our baby." Lupin finally looked up at Tonks, and immediately was lost in her deep, sparkling eyes, intense with furious passion. "So if you think he deserves to experience everything good in the world, and that he should be loved unconditionally, even though he'd be a werewolf- if he's deserving of all that, why aren't you?"_

Lupin feels somewhat uncomfortable discussing the future during a war. It is a peculiar atmosphere, and he is far too familiar with it. It feels like it did the last time. He does not like to talk about his son's future; he has a somewhat detached feeling about it. He doesn't want to wish his life away; Lupin wants to treasure every moment, however mundane. However short. Because for some reason, he senses it won't last. Tonks offers the child to Lupin, who carefully holds his arms out, and she lays the baby down. He still isn't used to it; he doesn't think he will ever be able to get used to it.

He stares into the bundle of blankets in his arms; so peaceful in sleep. War doesn't touch babies. They cannot suffer. They are safe wrapped in blankets and embraced in the arms of their parents. And holding his son cradled tightly to his chest, the steady and methodical beating of his heart relaxing the child, Lupin finally feels happy. He has something to live for, something to look forward to and something to get him through every full moon. A family. It is the proudest he has ever felt, and he finally accepts what Dora, Sirius, James, Lily, even Dumbledore, had spent so long telling him. He is not a monster. He is different to Fenrir Greyback and all the others, for he is capable of love, and that makes him human. He is as deserving of this as anybody else.

"It doesn't matter what he is," Lupin finally decides, smiling at his wife softly. "As long as he is happy, and as long as he is loved."

They've forgotten all about everything else in the world when it arrives, dashing through the woods at the back of the house and stopping in front of them- a strange glistening silver figure. The bright light makes them squint, and instinctively Lupin shields the baby's eyes. The baby stirs in his arms, turning his face inwards and snuggling closer into the soft fabric of his father's jumper. A small hand stretches out from the blankets, reaching towards his mother. They can sense it is something serious; England is burning. The world is about to end.

The Patronus is Kingsley's.

Lightning has struck.

**Finish.**

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought and THANK YOU! for reading. I enjoyed writing for you!_


	20. An Outtake

_Well... hello again. I realise this story has long been finished BUT I found this chapter saved on my hard-drive under the document name of 'jhgfd' (we all have them...) and I figure it was something I wrote but never managed to fit in! I guess you could call it an outtake/deleted scene? (Its longer than the others and there's no 'part two' like the rest which is why I probably left it out). I wanted to try and get it in my other fic (Past the Veil) but it didn't work out. _

_There's no need to read it- the rest of the story makes sense without it and if you liked the ending how it was then go ahead and don't bother with this addition at all. But if you do want to read it I guess it occurs in the middle somewhere. I just wanted to upload it because I read over it again and quite liked it and hoped you would too!_

* * *

Sixteen

Teddy is sixteen- but not for much longer. It is the evening before his seventeenth birthday, and he is at home for the Easter holidays. Teddy has been allowed to stay up so that at exactly midnight, when he turns seventeen, he will finally be allowed to do magic outside of school. Naturally, the nocturnal celebration has attracted much of Teddy's family, and everyone is gathered at Grimmauld Place.

His Grandmother finds him in the library. She grips a small black box tightly, the corners scuffed and the material worn. He's lying sprawled across the sofa, half-asleep, and she knows he would be beside himself if he missed midnight. She stands beside the door and quietly clears her throat, and Teddy shoots up from the sofa and turns to face her.

"Oh, Gran," He mutters, disoriented. "What time is it?" Teddy searches for a clock, trying desperately hard not to look as bewildered as he feels.

Andromeda Tonks smiles. "You tell me." She replies, handing the box to her Grandson. Teddy knows what it is immediately- after all, it is a tradition for a wizard to receive a watch as a coming of age present. He opens the box, revealing a heavy gold watch with a round pearlised face. Three hands tick around the Roman numeral numbers, and some kind of French motto that Teddy doesn't understand is printed beneath the number 12 in a small, italicised script. Two miniature dials present the day and the date. A final, tiny dial glistens a deep navy blue, studded with minute silver stars and a large golden orb indicating the phase of the moon- currently, according to Teddy's new watch, a waxing crescent. A peculiar design is etched into the clasp of the watch, and Teddy thinks it might be the Black family crest. The thick gold links of the chain are not polished to a shine as would be expected, but worn and soiled and vintage looking- and Teddy loves it. He just knows that there is a story behind it.

"It was my Uncle's." Andromeda tells him as he lifts it from the box. "I knew you wouldn't have wanted a brand new watch, Teddy. You'd have wanted something with a history. Something sentimental. I wish that I could have been able to give you with your fathers' watch, or even your grandfathers', but I can't. This is the best I could do. Although," She smiles fondly as she remembers, "I do recall Sirius telling me that as a joke, he, James and Peter bought your father a sterling silver watch for his seventeenth. I'm sure he saw the funny side."

Teddy slides the watch onto his wrist. The fit is almost perfect- but just a little too loose.

"Yes, this was Sirius's fathers' watch. Orion chose to give it to Regulus when he came of age. They would have never dreamed of giving it to Sirius. He ran away and was such a disappointment to the family, they wanted nothing to do with him. Sirius got a watch from the Potters'. When he was seventeen he was practically living with them. It wasn't flashy or fancy but Sirius liked it. But I think, deep down, he still resented the fact that Regulus was the favourite, that Regulus got the valuable gifts. Regulus was a much better son and Sirius was constantly reminded of it. Of course he _hated_ our family, he would curse them rather than mention them, but to be disowned by your own family- well, it is rather sad. I think Sirius was angry that their pure-blood mania was more important to them than Sirius was. Anyway, Sirius turns up at my house a week before we heard about Regulus's death with this watch, won't tell me how he got it or why he's got it, and still I don't know what Sirius was doing with it. I guess I'll never know. But he told me to keep it safe until he came back for it. He never did though. Now it's yours, Teddy. It might not have a particularly happy history, but it's a family heirloom nonetheless. Happy birthday."

Teddy admires the watch on his wrist. His Grandmother is right. He would've much rather received an old, pre-loved watch than a brand new, glistening one. The previous owners aren't exactly the most desirable and there's a good chance the watch was pilfered by Sirius- but it's a link to his past, his family, and his mother, and for that, he adores it.

It takes a second for Teddy to read the watch face and realise the time. "It's midnight, Gran!" Teddy's eyes shimmer in the dark and his hair changes through a rainbow of different colours as the realisation that he is finally seventeen sets in. Harry calls from downstairs and reminds Teddy of the time, and Teddy and his Grandmother follow the voice to join the rest of the party in the living room.

Teddy allows his Grandmother to descend the stairs before him, which is a wise move. In his excitement, Teddy takes the stairs three at a time, and miraculously, makes his way down the flight of stairs unharmed and still upright.

But as he rounds the stairs and turns to enter the living room, Teddy catches his foot against the troll leg umbrella stand. It sticks out on the floor and threatens to trip Teddy up every time he walks past it and now, it's finally delivered on its threat.

Teddy stumbles ungracefully onto his back, landing with a loud thud. The moth-eaten velvet curtains hiding the portrait of the old bat Harry has warned him about tear apart and reveal a hideous old woman staring ominously out. Before he can register her black hat and heavy features, her face distorts into a grimace and she begins wailing at the top of her lungs, a loud, gravely cackle- like nails on a chalkboard. She screams and screams as though she is being tortured, and the life-size portrait is the most realistic, and the most unpleasant, Teddy has ever seen in his life.

"STAINS OF DISHONOUR!" She bellows. "BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE!"

It makes Teddy jump. He looks up from where he is lying sprawled on the floor at the woman in the portrait, his heart pounding. She seems to sense his fear, for Teddy is sure that she turns in her portrait and looks straight at him. Her eyes roll and the yellowing skin of her face stretches taut as she screams. Teddy screws up his eyes at the noise and claps his hands over his ears.

The door to the living room opens as Harry arrives to identify the source of the commotion, and the light floods out, glinting off the sparkling stars on Teddy's watch face. The monster in the painting is drawn to Teddy's wrist, and her eyes are like daggers'.

"HOW DARE YOU BEFOUL THE POSSESSIONS OF MY HEIR! NO WEREWOLF FILTH IS FIT TO WEAR ANYTHING BEARING THE BLACK CREST. YOU DEFILE THE NAME OF MY FATHERS. FILTHY HALF-BREED! SCUM! BY-PRODUCTS OF DIRT AND VILENESS!"

She screeches louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as though trying to tear at their faces. The rest of her stream of epithets is cut short as Ron darts from the living room to tug the curtains tightly closed. "Shut up you old hag!" Teddy shouts back at her as she lashes out further insults.

"You ought to paint Sirius in there with her- that would shut her up." Ron tells Harry.

"Sorry," Teddy tries to stutter out an apology. He had tried to be so careful not to fall down the stairs that he had completely forgotten about the ugly umbrella stand at the foot of the stairs. "That thing is hideous. I don't know why you've got it. It's a trip hazard." Teddy bemoans. He sits at the bottom of the stairs and tries to inconspicuously nurse his grazed shin.

He looks up to see his godfather staring at him with a strange, faraway expression. Teddy ignores him though- Harry's always seemed to do weird things, and Teddy puts it down to being 'the chosen one', or whatever it is they used to call Harry. Teddy continues. "Let me guess. You know it's ugly but it came with the house. Sounds like Kreacher." He mumbles.

And as if on cue, the oft-lamented house-elf shuffles along the corridor, grumbling under his breath in a hoarse, deep voice like a bullfrogs'. He has arrived to find out who had disturbed his beloved mistress, no doubt.

"Mistress," He whispers. "Cherished mistress." He looks around, and quickly notices that the drapes covering the portrait have been pulled tightly closed, and Kreacher has missed out on the chance to see Mrs Black once again.

He lets out a strangled whimper and stamps his feet, throwing himself onto his knees. As Kreacher hammers his tiny fist against the wooden floorboards Teddy notices that the chain holding the peculiar locket around Kreacher's neck snaps, and the chain slides from his neck and the locket falls to the floor. Kreacher, too busy in the throes of his tantrum, doesn't seem to notice. His fist pounds harder against the floorboards, and if Teddy doesn't say something, Kreacher will smash the locket. Perhaps Teddy should let him- he's mean and grumpy and he smells, and it would serve him right for being so childish.

Teddy moves his wrist and the links of his new watch pinch his skin. He can't let Kreacher destroy the locket. He doesn't know what it is or where it's from- knowing Kreacher, it's probably stolen- but it must hold some kind of sentimental value, and for that, it must be important to Kreacher.

Teddy stoops down to pick it up and turns it over in his fingers. The casing is filthy and the stone in the centre is scratched and scuffed. He slides the broken chain through the loop at the top of the locket and centres it, holding the broken ends together. He wonders for a second how to fix it, until he remembers the time. It's his seventeenth birthday, its past midnight, and Teddy is finally allowed to do magic outside of school. He takes his wand from his pocket and performs perhaps the simplest spell he knows- _reparo_\- on the broken chain. The links quickly fold back around each other and seal together. The chain is fixed.

Kreacher's wails come suddenly to a halt. He glares at Teddy, holding onto a locket, and feels around his neck, noticing that his own precious locket is gone.

"Thief! Thief!" He cries, his voice piercing the eerie silence. He shouts further profanities at poor Teddy, and Teddy instantly regrets what he did. He knew he shouldn't have been kind to Kreacher- he doesn't deserve it. Kreacher's eyes bulge as they catch a glimpse of the watch adorning Teddy's arm. "Master Regulus's watch!"

The elf runs towards Teddy, throwing his fists aimlessly into the air, and they meet Teddy's knees, but Teddy can barely feel it. He lifts his arm above his head, holding the locket out of Kreacher's reach. Kreacher wails louder. "Kreacher!" Teddy shouts back. "Shut up! Shut up!"

"You dirty thief! Give Kreacher back his things!"

"It's my watch!" Teddy replies.

"It's Master Regulus's!" Kreacher tries to punch Teddy's knees harder and grabs about in the air, trying to catch his locket. "Filthy werewolf!"

The curtains fly open once again and the figure in the portrait screams into life. Kreacher doesn't seem to have noticed, and both are far too busy yelling insults and curses at Teddy. Harry and Ron run out from the living room again, and pull the curtains back closed. Ron makes another joke about the barmy old hag, and Harry complains again at the Sticking charm that just won't budge.

"Do you know what? I think I might have an idea we haven't tried before." Harry tells Ron, and beckons him down the corridor towards the kitchen downstairs. This isn't the birthday Teddy had been hoping for- where's his birthday cake? Where's his party? Why haven't they celebrated his first-official-out-of-school-magic-spell performance? Instead he's performed his first legal spell for an ungrateful house-elf and he's been cursed for having a stolen watch. He thought it was a nice gift, a reminder of his family history, but he'd rather not be part of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Why couldn't he have had his father's watch, like almost every other seventeen year old wizard? Teddy throws the locket at Kreacher with more force than he intended. It bounces beside Kreacher's feet, and Teddy secretly hopes it has shattered.

Kreacher takes back his locket from the floor and looks at the mended chain, and finds than not only has Teddy fixed it, he's also cleaned it for him, too. It looks as good as new.

"You're as bad as _her-_" Teddy points at the covered portrait "She told me I was a '_Werewolf filth'_. That I was '_defiling the name of Black'. _Fine. Have it back, if I'm so unworthy." He reluctantly unbuckles the watch from his wrist and slides it off, holding it out to Kreacher, but the elf suddenly looks uncharacteristically ashamed, and shakes his head.

"Master Regulus gave it to Sirius, because he was going to die."

Teddy had expected Kreacher to take the watch, stuff it under his filthy loincloth and run off with it. He doesn't know what to say.

"Master Regulus found Sirius in Diagon Alley and gave him the watch. Kreacher was there. Sirius didn't want it. The watch was valuable and Sirius was going to give it to his friend, so his friend could sell it. His friend was poor. Master Sirius was trying to help."

Teddy guesses the 'friend' Kreacher is talking about was his father, and Teddy should have known that _somehow,_ whether anyone knew it or not, the watch would have a link with his father.

Kreacher scurries off to the kitchen downstairs and returns shortly clutching a worn, weathered hardback book. It's a deep emerald green colour, covered in dirt and grime. Kreacher bows to Teddy, so low that his nose is almost touching the floor, and presents it cautiously to him. He can just about make out the title.

_How To Resurrect the Dead._

It looks like Teddy has somehow unwittingly found himself a new friend. Perhaps Kreacher can see some kind of kindred spirit in Teddy. He can remember once when he was eight wishing he had a house-elf, and oh, how he realises what a bad wish that was. Kreacher obviously means well, but this is one book, Teddy thinks, he might not read.

Kreacher, meanwhile, slides the chain of the locket back over his neck, and walks up to the portrait. He runs his finger across the bottom ledge of the portrait, then scales the wall to run it around the rest. It's odd, Teddy thinks, but as he has just found out, so is Kreacher.

* * *

_I think 'part two' was originally going to be something about the sticking charm on the portrait now miraculously being broken (thanks to Kreacher) but alas, it remains unwritten. _


End file.

Harry Potter, Angst, Family