Teddy Lupin was late for Transfiguration, again. As he rushed through the empty corridor toward his classroom, he heard an empty growl come from around the corner. Slowing down so his feet weren’t pounding against the hard, stone floor, he listened. There it was. Just around the corner from where he was standing he heard the growl again. His eyes searched for a movement, a flash of a shadow across the wall, but there was nothing.

Cautiously pulling his wand from his robes, he edged around the corner. His eyes darted around the dark passage, searching for the source of the noise. A faint glimmer caught his eye; there on the floor was the apparition of a werewolf dressed in a zany costume, bound by chains.

He halted, feet planted where he was standing, allowing the illusion on the floor in front of him to seep into his mind. Blood pulsed through his hot veins, a dull pounding developing in his head. As he stared down at the gaseous form, he caught the minute movement of a shadow shifting on the far wall.

He heard a snigger and the quick shuffle of feet, but nothing more.

It had been sixteen years since his parents’ death. Most told him he was lean and sinewy like his father, only with his mother’s bright eyes and ability to morph at will. He didn’t remember the bubblegum pink of his mother’s short hair that everyone always joked about, or her inclination toward tripping and falling. The way his father was modest and quiet were traits that Teddy was never exposed to; he only heard stories and anecdotes from the Weasleys and the Potters.

As a young boy, he had grown up under the loving care of his maternal grandmother, Andromeda, and he had frequented the house of Harry and Ginny for dinner every so often.

But he had never had parents.

Growing up, he didn’t get his first toy broom from his dad; instead, he received it as a birthday present from his godfather. When he fell and broke his arm at seven, his grandmother had rushed him to St. Mungo’s, not his mum. As he said goodbye to the Weasleys and the Potters on the train station platform when he was leaving for Hogwarts, he’d wished to see the unfamiliar faces of his parents, but he had known that he never would.

At Hogwarts, it was not much of a secret what his father had been. He was, after all, the boy with no parents who had the legendary ‘Boy Who Lived’ as a godfather. Scything Slytherins loved to jeer at his father’s blood.

Today was different though. It was his mother’s birthday, and whoever did this very well knew that by taking this opportunity to taunt him.

As he le looked down at the form, Teddy’s fist gripped his wand to the point that it was leaving grainy imprints on his hot palms. He knew not to give in; it was the reaction that the person who made this had wanted, and he wouldn’t let him or her have it. Those shuffling footsteps were meant to lure him into a trap, make him follow them to a secluded corner and jinx them, then lose points, and make a fool of himself in front of the school.

But he wouldn’t do that. Shakily slipping his wand back into the waist of his jeans, he glanced down the corridor and saw the flick of a heel turning a corner, but choose to turn his back.

When he reached the classroom door, he slowly opened it. Glancing up at Professor McGonagall’s turned back, he crept over to the last row and slid silently into his seat.

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence, Lupin.” Her back remained to the classroom, and she continued dictating notes to the blackboard.

He mumbled a quick apology before pulling out a quill and parchment. Noticing the reflection of transparent ink on his parchment, he cast a revealing spell. Long, spindly cursive wove its way across the thick paper. It had become a habit for him to search for hidden secrets these days.

T-

I just wanted to surprise you and say hello. So, surprise! I know that today won’t be a fun day for you, but just think, only two more days until the Christmas holidays when we can sneak off into as many broom cupboards as we want…

Anyway, that’s all I had to say. I hope your day goes well, and I will be seeing you at lunch!

Yours always,
V

A sloppy grin formed on his face as he laid the parchment back on his desk. Victoire had been his girlfriend for just a few months. He had known her his whole life, and just recently he had convinced her that he was the right choice. Growing up, they had been friends, since the other Weasleys and Potters were quite a bit younger than they. Sharing secrets, talking about which band was the best, The Weird Sisters or The Crumplets?�”growing to know each other completely.

It had been a long day, she was right in that, but he could handle it. This was the seventeenth December 19th that he had experienced, and he hadn’t once broken. Each year getting more difficult for him to fathom as the date approached- he himself was growing so close to her dying age.

He continued to stare hard at the parchment, willing the unwelcome thoughts from his cluttered mind.

“What do we have here?” The sharp voice of Professor McGonagall shook him from his thoughts completely as he realised Victoire’s letter was no longer lying on the desk in front of him.

Immediately remembering what she had written he made an attempt to retrieve the lost parchment. “Oh, really nothing. It’s just�””

“Inappropriate, I dare say.” She glanced over her thin spectacles at his reaction before reassessing the letter. “Please do keep your personal life out of the classroom, Mr. Lupin. Ten points from Gryffindor.” She laid it back on his desk before making her way to the front of the room.

“Everyone, begin! Remember swish and jab! No, no, McLaggen, it’s swish, jab, not jab, swish. Come on, boy.” She fluttered down to the Hufflepuff’s side, giving Teddy a moment of opportunity.

He hastily cleared the incriminating words from the parchment and stuffed it unceremoniously into his bag. Standing up, as everyone else was, he pulled out his wand. He looked around the room at the students transforming an umbrella to a butterfly and realised he had no idea where to begin.

Leaning over to the Ravenclaw, Geoffrey Swingle, he asked, “What exactly has she got us doing?”

The short boy looked up at him, “Didn’t you listen? Do you know the incantation?”

“Er�”no.”

“All right, well, all you do is move your wand like so, and say�””

He felt the patronising stare before he heard her words. “Detention, Lupin. Tomorrow at 8 o’clock sharp in my office. If you cannot be kind enough to show up to my class at the correct time, you ought to at least learn the spells.” She paused before announcing to the class, “That will conclude our short class. Prepare a two feet of parchment on the affects of transfiguring delicate wings and how it can go terribly wrong.”

The class began to shuffle around him, grabbing books and parchments to hastily shove into their bags. The teacher’s stare was lost in the movement, and he took the opportunity to gather his things and rush from the room.

As he began to walk toward the Great Hall, he noticed a huddle of people standing at the corner of the corridor. Walking over to the group, he heard the clanking of chains, and he ceased movement.

The apparition. The joke.

He watched as the crowd grew. He overheard one girl whisper to her friend, “Why is this here? Shouldn’t stuff like this be banned in the hallways?” Her friend shrugged her shoulders causing Teddy to walk over and confirm his suspicions.

Sliding around the swelling mass of people, he forced his way between the stone wall and a small blonde boy before reaching the centre of the throng. Looking down at the fading picture he sighed. Every year since Noah had been at Hogwarts, he had taking it upon himself to make sure Teddy remembered what his father had been. Previously, he had paid older students to perform grandiose tasks that wouldn’t fade as easily as this one. The lean muscles could be seen straining under the translucent skin, the chains where beginning to twinkle away, and the bark had turned into no more than a lame rasp.

He took one last look at the pitiful prank that writhed at his feet before muttering, “Finite Incantatem.”

As he strode away, he heard an uproar from the people standing around his father’s replica. Heads were turning frantically around looking for the escaped beast, but it was nowhere to be seen.

“Where did it go?”

“Did you see that? It just disappeared!”

He wasn’t going to stand for having his father’s blood ridiculed in front of the whole school. Playing a prank was one thing, but leaving it up for show was another.

When he reached the Great Hall, he immediately found her sitting alone at the end of the table. Walking quickly between the benches, he slumped onto the seat across from her, throwing his bag down on the table with frustration. He folded his arms and buried his head away from the world, only to feel her burning stare on the back of his neck.

“Hi, Teddy,” she said in a sweet voice, slightly masked by a half-stuffed mouth. The sound pulled his head up to look into her beautiful face.

“What?”

He continued to stare at her. She was stunning, just like her mother, but with a bit of her father’s warmth mixed in. Her long blonde hair fell over slender, pale shoulders, pouring down her body. Looking into her eyes, he saw love and compassion in their dark centres; her soft, freckled face was staring questionably back at him.

“Teddy! What in the blazes are you staring at?” She asked as she waved her hand frantically in front of his face.

Slowly raising his head from its reclined position, he answered, “Oh nothing. Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

Her eyes broke with emotion when he went silent. She reached her hand across the table, placing it in his to allow some of his world to crash on her. The warmth of her grasp was freeing and consoling; it allowed a gentle feather to settle on his chest as the weight was lifted.

A small smile appeared on his face. “McGonagall saw the note you left me.”

Jerking her hand back to cover her mouth, she let out a small squeak. “She didn’t. Teddy Lupin, you’re joking!”

Her eyes were round with astonishment. Teddy grinned and shook his head before saying, “I wish I were, V, I wish I were. I’ve got detention with her the night before we go home.”

Her brow furrowed with confusion. “You’ve got a detention because I mentioned that we meet in broom cupboards?”

His wide grin easily grew into and lackadaisical laugh, “Yes, she’s got me in trouble for that.” He paused for a reaction, but only received a stern glare. “I arrived late to class today, so I didn’t know what we were doing, and on top of that your letter distracted me.”

Victoire now wore a look of utter confusion. “Well, why were you late in the first place? When you left me, you were set to get to class right on time!”

This time, Teddy paused. Stirring for a moment to think of the right answer, he wore a hard look of determination. His lax shoulders tensed up, and his happy eyelids widened. As he thought of the useless prank in the hallway earlier, he was reminded of what today was. He knew that Victoire would want to know what had happened, and that she would understand. Her father was, after all, Bill Weasley, and he had many of the same characteristics of a wolf. He just was not one like Teddy’s father had been.

Looking sadly into the eyes of his love, he remained silent. The earth was tilting around him. For years, this time of year had been the hardest on him; his mother’s birthday and Christmas were sandwiched into a fortnight. A time for family, celebration, rejoice, and love for normal people were a time for regret and loss to Teddy. Watching Victoire’s large family was joyous, but it did not fill him like being with his own mother and father would have. He dreamt of them on the cold, dark nights of the holidays as the sanguine bodies slept around him. This year would be no different from the past ones. He would spend it with the Potters at the Burrow, exposed to the familiarity of a family; something that Teddy never had.

Breaking from his thoughts, he looked into the concerned eyes across from him. “Tradition happened today.” He laughed sadly, rubbing his eyes. “Although, I must admit, it was a rather poor show compared to previous years.”

Feeling her forced smile from across the table, he kept his head down. He felt her shift as a small stutter erupted from her mouth. Looking up, he noticed that her head was also lowered in a melancholy manner, and this time, he reached across to grab her hand. They continued to sit in silence, heads bowed, for the rest of the meal. Neither spoke a word; they knew that their presence was enough.

--

He sat in front of the crackling fire, arms lazily splayed beside him. It had been the last day of the term, and it had been rather uneventful. In Charms, Marie McDougall had accidentally Levitated Professor Flitwick instead of her pillow, during Care of Magical Creatures the Unicorns fell asleep, and on his way to dinner, the girl’s bathroom on the second floor overflowed. He lazily tilted his head back to rest on the soft cushions of the couch as he impatiently awaited the clock to strike 8 o’clock. Eyes closed, he listened to the ancient clock tick loudly on the mantle above the fireplace. He felt the cushion sink next to him and allowed he head to roll lazily over to meet the shoulder next to him.

“Do you not have detention?” he heard the light voice ask as he allowed his heavy body to sink closer to her.

Squinting one eye open he glanced at the clock to see the time.

8:04.

“Bugger.” Slowly lifting himself from the sunken position, he stretched his arms above his head, letting out a groan of satisfaction.

“I knew that would be your response,” she sighed and bent over to prod his tense leg. “Go! McGonagall is going to have a hippogriff if you’re any later.”

Shooting her a look, he unwillingly began his trek towards McGonagall’s first floor office, muttering a quick goodbye and exiting through the portrait hole. As he walked down the dark corridors, passing by the small windows, the bright moonlight flashed across his face in intervals, reminding of him of who his father had been. It always did.

He arrived at the classroom a few minutes later and firmly knocked on the door. There were a few moments of silence before he heard, “Come in, Lupin.”

Grasping the knob, he shook his head in attempt to wake himself before slowly opening the door. When the door opened wide enough, it revealed an unbelievably stern looking woman sitting rather stiffly behind her desk, thin hands folded neatly in front of her. He closed the door quietly behind him and moved into the room.

“You’re late.”

Allowing his eyes to flicker up to the clock, he noticed he was indeed ten minutes later than he should have been. Shaking his head once more in and attempt to rid his head of tempting thoughts of one very comfortable four-poster, he said, “I’m very sorry Professor, I fell asleep in the common room. It won’t happen again.”

He noticed her studying him through his dangerously drooping eyelids. Her severe gaze was something that he always found rather amusing, because the Professor McGonagall he knew was much more amiable than others believed. A chuckle bubbled from his lips at this thought, and McGonagall’s eyebrows shot up with shock.

“Something funny, Lupin?”

As quickly as the smile appeared on his lips, it was gone. “No, not at all, Professor.”

“Very well, then. Bed pans tonight for you, no wand. Get going. You’ll be done at twelve sharp.”

Nodding his head at the professor, he turned on his heal and walked out the door. When he arrived in the Hospital Wing, the door to Madame Pomfrey’s office was cracked, so he walked cautiously up to it, unsure of what to do. He saw her petite form moving through the distorted glass. Wrapping his knuckles on the door as he pushed it open, he peaked his head through the crack.

Clearing his throat to get her attention, he glanced up to see if her bustling form had noticed him and was disappointed to see that she hadn’t. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he chose his next move of action. He cleared his throat, just a bit louder, but she continued to move things about on her unbelievably cluttered desk.

Rolling his, today, dark blue eyes he called, “Madame Pomfrey?”

The old woman scratched her wiry head of hair and attacked an unknowing pile of papers lying haphazardly on the corner of her desk, shuffling madly through them. When she apparently reached the one she had been looked for she the let out a squeak of excitement and threw her hands up in the air, and in this exact moment, she noticed Teddy.

She jumped back, knocking her chair over, and judging by the noise that escaped her mouth, she had no idea anyone had been in her room. Clutching her chest she let out a slow breath before saying, “Yes, yes, Minerva said you’d be serving a detention with me tonight. You know what do you, Lupin, I dare say, you have been here a fair share of your Friday nights.” She cast me a rueful glance before continuing, “Well, go on. You’ve got quite a few to clean tonight.”

“Yes, Madame Pomfrey.” Sighing, he turned and walked back into the Hospital Wing, ready to begin scrubbing the waste from the dozens of white-sheeted beds.

He slipped the first one from the foot of the bed. Sitting down on a worn, wooden stool, he began his wandless work. He moved from bed to bed, doing the slow, monotonous work. Each bed was the same, narrow and wooden, worn around the edges, with a slender window jutting above it. As the moon began to glow brighter, it illuminated his scrubbing hands. With every bed he did, he checked the clock. When he reached the last bed, the slowly ticking minute hand showed that he had precisely ten minutes to go. Bending down to pull the cold metal pan from the bed, he noticed a signature scrawled into the wood.

Looking closer he saw, ‘Moony was here’.

“Moony…”

--

Two men were sitting around the beaten table, a fizzing mug of Butterbeer in hand. The dim light cast harsh shadows across the faces, hiding the eyes and illuminating the mouths. The dingy fireplace was unused due to the warm weather, and the floor had layers of grim, even after the many failed attempts of Mrs. Weasley’s cleaning charms. The stale smell of the room rose into the men’s nostrils as they breathed in the silence; this house had not been used in years.

The younger of the two spun his mug around on the rough wood, causing a bit of the drink to slosh over the side. The elder cast a scouring charm and it vanished. Suddenly, the younger stopped his movement.

Looking at him everyday was a surprise. Some days it was brown hair, some days it was orange, but his signature was blue. He had the heart shaped-face of his mother, and the skinny bones of his father. The hair today was the colour of pale straw; it actually really wasn’t a colour at all, and his skin was pale and his eyes were light.

He looked up at the older man with hurt and adoration in his eyes. He knew that Harry had been in the same seat as him his whole adolescent life, sans parents. He knew that, but he still felt like he had the emptiness inside of him that could not be comforted nor replaced by anything or anyone.

They had come here to escape from the Burrow, just for the night. He knew that Harry had been watching him all day; he knew that everyone had been watching him all day. He hadn’t been himself, and he knew it, but he couldn’t change that. Today was different. Teddy had been sleeping in Ron’s old, bright orange room when Harry had come and rather easily convinced him to leave for the night. When they had arrived at this musky house, he had been confused, especially when Harry handed him a piece of paper that read the address before entering, and then when he was hushed when he walked into the entrance hall, but he had been grateful for his godfather’s actions.

Now, sitting at this dust-ridden table across from the man, he was very thankful for the silence, but it allowed his thought and emotions to swirl behind his burning eyes. It was the day. The last day of their lives. Today was one of the hardest days of everyone in the Burrow, but Teddy had never known what he had lost. He had no memory of his mother or his father. He didn’t know what it felt like to lay in his mother’s arms as she rocked him to sleep. He didn’t know how it sounded to hear his father say goodnight to him, or how he smelled as he leaned down to kiss him goodnight. He had never known these things, and he never would. Harry and given him bits and pieces of his father’s past: an old record player, a book titled The Werewolves Bindings, his old wand, amongst other paraphernalia.

“Want to know something funny?” Teddy jumped from his thoughts, throwing his head up from its reclined position to look at his godfather.

“Sure.” He took a swig of his warming Butterbeer and listened.

Harry leaned in on one elbow and began to rummage around in his robes with his other hand. Finding what he was searching for, he brought out a worn piece of parchment and threw it out on the table.

“Your father and mine were absolutely brilliant. Have a look.” Bringing out his wand, he gave it a small nudge before poking it and saying, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Lines immediately began snaking across the parchment, and his eyes widened with shock. “Your dad and mine made this?” His eyes followed the fading footsteps of Nearly Headless Nick.

“Them and Sirius and Peter, of course. They were quite the bunch, really. Always coming up with pranks and spells of their own. This was just something they made up in their spare time. Allowed for easier mischief, I suppose.”

Teddy continued to stare at it with wide eyes and pulled it to him for a closer look.

“Where is that? That is definitely not a corridor I have seen�”Oh, it secret, am I right? It’s under the Whomping Willow? What’s that about…?”

Teddy heard Harry chuckle at him, but continued to stare in awe at the map of the castle. There were so many passageways he had never seen before.

“Who are Mssrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?” Teddy asked as he noticed the greeting at the top of the map.

Harry leaned over the table the study it and replied, “Well, your dad, Peter, Sirius, and my dad, respectively.”

Teddy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “Why those names? That’s kind of ridiculous.”

Harry let out a sigh before replying, “Get comfortable, Teddy, you’re in for a quite a story.”

Teddy smiled; he enjoyed hearing stories about the parents that both he and Harry had lost. It was comforting to know that he was not alone in this, even if Harry was sixteen years his senior.

Smiling more to himself than to Teddy, Harry began, “Ever wonder why my Patronus was a stag?”

Teddy shook his head. He hadn’t really. He’d just taken it for a stag, and let it be.

“Well, Dad, Sirius, and Peter found out about your dad being a werewolf soon after they became friends. Your dad didn’t tell them because, being the anxious young man that he was, he was worried they wouldn’t want to be their friend. When they found out, they decided they would do anything in their power to help him on his monthly excursions the Shrieking Shack, hence the secret passageway from the Whomping Willow. The tree was planted the year your father came to Hogwarts so that he could have a barrier between himself and the school when he transformed.

“They went over so many different possibilities. Maybe extend Dad’s Invisibility Cloak to make impenetrable by werewolves? But then how would that even have helped Remus during his transformations? Perhaps there was a Potion they could take once a month, but no, it would be far too advanced and risky.

“Finally, they found the solution when they were in class one day. McGonagall transformed in front of the class, and began explaining the characteristics and properties of Animagi, including immunity to werewolf bites.

“Of course, they spent more waking hours than not searching for the way to become and Animagi, and finally they achieved, however long it took Peter. And that’s where they came up with these names. Moony, for your dad, because of the moon. Wormtail, for Peter, because he was a rat. Padfoot, for Sirius, because he was a great, black dog. And Prongs, for my dad, because he, Teddy, was a stag.”

Teddy was smiling the broadest smile he had had on all day. The stories of his father’s childhood that filled in the blanks always had this affect on him. Straightening his shoulders, he ran his broad hands over the crinkled parchment.

“So, I can have this, then?” He asked, sounding a bit too hopeful.

A surprised laugh escaped Harry’s lips. “What, you think I’m teasing you with it? Of course you can keep it! It’s only right to hand it down to the noble line of troublemakers.”

Teddy smiled to himself as he looked down at the same parchment that his father’s hands had once touched. The writing of his father twirled across the paper causing Teddy to question the way his own hand moved with a quill.

--

Teddy ran his fingers over the dented writing on the bedpost, lost in thought. His stomach lurched with an internal laugh as he thought of the night that he and Harry ran away.

“Time for you to go! Oh, and you almost finished. Well, I can do that one in just a minute. Off you go! Shoo shoo!”

Teddy gladly left the Hospital Wing and made his way back up to Gryffindor Tower. As he expected, Victoire was awaiting him on the couch. Flopping down, he kissed her on the cheek before letting out a low groan. “I never want to see a bedpan again in my life.”

“You say that every time you come back from a detention in the Hospital Wing, Teddy,” Victoire said faintly, her head bobbing to rest on his shoulder.

They fell into silence. Teddy rested his head against the soft couch, and it began to swirl with thought of his parents. His father must have spent many mornings after the full moon in the Hospital Wing. One of the other Marauders probably carved that in the bedpost as joke because it was probably his usual bed.

He felt Victoire jolt beside him. “V,” he whispered.

She didn’t respond.

Her head was lying heavily in his shoulder, and her legs her curled underneath her in a very uncomfortable looking position.

“Victoire.” Prodding her in the side with his finger, he managed to get her to sleepily bat his hand away, but not awaken.

“Nombghf.” She shifted a bit, causing her head to tilt dangerously in the other direction, and in effect, she jumped awake.

“What, what? What were you saying to me?” Smoothing her hair from her face in attempt to beautify herself, which was something that Teddy really found impossible, she opened her eyes sleepily.

“You dozed off. Why don’t you go up to you dormitory? I’ll see you tomorrow on the train.” He grabbed her hands away from smoothing her hair.

“I like the sound of that plan. See you then. Goodnight.” Both standing up, they kissed briefly and tenderly before turning their separate directions to walk to their respective rooms.

Opening the door quietly so as not to disturb the other sleeping bodies, he walked to the furthest draped bed. Sliding off his trainer, and pulling on his pyjamas, he got into his bed.

“Lumos.”

Twisting his body, he leaned over to open the drawer to his table, pulling out a cracked, folded picture.

Shining the radiant light across the fading image, he smiled, running his thumb over the one-dimensional faces. A man with a jagged scar running the length of his face was sitting contentedly at a table, only to be interrupted by a bright haired woman. She tripped into the picture, fell into his lap, he gracefully caught her, and they looked at each other lovingly before turning and facing the camera. Teddy had stared at this image for hours on end, watching as his mother moved, studying the way they looked at each other, wishing he could have once witnessed this for himself.

The small, cluttered car rattled along the bumpy road towards The Burrow. The backseat had been magically extended to fit Teddy, Harry, Ginny, James, and Andromeda. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had driven from the Burrow to pick them up in a caravan, which had included Victoire’s parents.

Teddy leaned his hot cheek against the cool glass of the window as they grew closer to The Burrow. Around him, they chatted of the school year-- which classes James liked, which ones he didn’t, whether or not he had figured out to tickle or scratch the pear yet, at which Harry received a patronising glare from Mrs. Weasley. Every so often Teddy would nod his head in agreement, or participate in the conversation by giving a one or two word answer, but he took content pleasure in leaving his face squashed against the side of the car.

When they finally reached the precariously teetering house with chickens pecking about in the front yard, they piled out of the backseat, toes being stepped on, and James unfortunately getting elbowed in the face, and in effect receiving a bloody nose.

“Oh, honey, let me get that for you!” Mrs. Weasley came bustling over, wand ready, and performed a quick mending charm, and the blood ceased to flow, his nose instantly mended. Teddy watched from the side of the yard as James felt his newly mended nose with careful hands, astonishment evident in his eyes.

“You should be a Healer!” he said as he continued to grope his nose.

Mrs. Weasley was busy Levitating trunks from the boot of the car, and brushed his comment aside, “Don’t be silly dear, that was a simple household charm I learned in school.”

As the party ambled up the cobbled walk, Teddy turned to see the other cars bouncing along the drive towards the house. The falling sun cut harshly into his eyes and his eyebrows shot low over his eyes in attempt to shade them from the late afternoon glow. Turning back to follow the flow of people, he entered through the cramped doorway, careful to avoid the old pile of Wellington boots at the doorstep.

He breathed in the familiar aroma of the cluttered area. Gathering in the warm light that was glowing from the kitchen, he smiled broadly. He loved the comfortable feeling that settled in his stomach every time that he stepped over the threshold of this home. Allowing his eyes to roam over the familiar surfaces, he happily took note that nothing had changed-- the family clock was resting over the mantle, all hands pointing in different directions; the beloved radio of Mrs. Weasley sat contentedly on the windowsill; and happy bodies bustled in every direction, just as always.

“Oi, Teddy! Come play a game of Wizards Chess, won’t you?”

Teddy looked up to see Harry calling him over to the fireside. His grin widening, he walked over to play Harry in their rival game.

“You’re on, Harry,” he said as he sat down opposite him on the hard wooden chair. Teddy stared down at the faded wooden board and awaited Harry’s first move. Watching as the strong hands of his godfather flexed in concentration, his eyes drifted over his cracked knuckles and calloused pads: the hands of a fighter. Moving up his arms, they settled on the war-worn face that was screwed up in concentration, and finally in his eyes. The bright green eyes of his mother that Teddy had heard others exclaim about over and over again, just like others spoke of his abilities and build. Those eyes were as alive as a child’s eyes, pure and unbroken, the opposite of what one would expect. He had lost so much: parents, mentors, loved ones. But he did have that one constant through the battles, the one thing that kept him pushing to the end: Ginny. Teddy glanced up and the long, blonde mane of hair that was sitting at the kitchen table, conversing with her family, and a faint smile escaped his lips.

“It’s your move, Lupin,” Harry said, leaning back with a smug look on his face.

Allowing his thoughts to wander back to the game, he chose his first move. It was a rather large rivalry between Harry and he when playing this old wizarding game because neither of them was the ultimate victor. Growing up, he had wisely taken instructions whispered in his ear by Ron, so he had always had an advantage, but Harry obviously had many more years of experience.

He made a cautious move after surveying the board, only to have his first pawn crushed by one of Harry’s knights. The rest of the game continued in this manner, accompanied by Harry’s whoops of victory and Teddy’s groans of failure.

“Your head must not be in the game, Teddy,” Harry said as his eyes jumped over the ruined piles of Teddy’s black pieces.

Sighing, Teddy leaned back in his chair, allowing it to cut into his back just a bit, “Thinking about other things. Otherwise, I would have actually given you a challenge, instead of just giving you the game.”

“Oh-ho! If you still believe you can even rival the abilities of the great Harry Potter, match me again.”

Just as the last words escaped Harry’s lips, Ron sauntered over from the kitchen table to observe the game. “Did I just hear Harry exclaim that he was the 'Great Harry Potter' at chess? Right, and I am the Minister of Magic.”

Harry grinned up at his old friend. “All right, Ron? When’d you arrive? How’s Hermione?”

“All right, she’s just over there, and we’ve just arrived. You know Mum’s still got the wards up? Batty woman, she is.” At this point, Ron pulled Harry aside and began whispering very avidly in his ear. He vigorously smacked his fist into his palm, sometimes drawing small diagrams with his finger, attempting to make an unknown point.

Harry turned to Teddy when Ron was finished with his rapid recapitulation. “I’m going to have to have a rain check on that game, Ted. Ministry business.”

Throwing him a smirk in return he said, “Right, you’re just worried I’ll take away from your pride by beating you.”

“All right! You’re on for tomorrow Lupin,” he challenged with an apologetic glance before turning to follow Ron out of the back door.

Teddy’s smile lingered on his lips for a few moments before he allowed it to completely slide away. Staring happily around at the small gathering of people, he made to repair the set, but saw a pair of delicate hands rest atop the massacre before he could begin.

“Hey, you.” He looked up into the dancing eyes of Victoire.

“Hello to you as well.”

She cast him a long glance, her eyes calming down into his. He hated when she looked upon him this way, because he knew that she knew. He did not break that stare, and he never could. Her eyes had always been the most captivating part of her; it was probably some of the Veela in her that always took hold of him.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he jolted up from his chair, eyes never breaking from hers. Without saying a word, he strode to the back door, and opened it cautiously: no need to direct attention his way. Walking out into the cold night, he allowed the chilling snow to begin to seep into his trainers, and breathed in a breath of satisfaction. Looking up into the black night, he searched the stars. The bright ones twinkled with tantalising brightness, the dim ones fading in and out of his sight. Allowing his eyes to go out of focus, he took in the grandeur of the whole sky.

“Did you see that? It was a shooting star. Make a wish.” He heard the familiar voice behind him again.

Ducking his head, he said, “You followed me out here.”

The wind picked up and began biting into the thin cotton on his arms; he had forgotten a cloak. Turning to face her, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, not meeting her eyes this time. “Of course I followed you out here. Do you expect to me to just be completely ignored like that and be all right with it?”

He stayed silent, turning his back to her once more, and stared out over the dark, rolling hills. She, too, elapsed into a tense silence. Hearing the crunch of icy snow, he felt her small arms wrap around his middle, and her head rest firmly between his shoulder blades. His taunt muscles instantly relaxed at her soft touch, but the tension did not subside.

“Will you talk to me, Teddy?”

He remained silent even though this conversation was inevitable. He had always had trouble talking to her about his parents, even before they were together. Maybe it was that he saw the love that radiated from her parents, and he thought that she wouldn’t be able to fathom what his life was like. She was a smart girl, and hot tempered at that, who was not going to give up at this battle.

Still he pried himself from her delicate grasp and walked back into the house, back turned to her hurt eyes. He moved swiftly, ignoring the surprised stares of the people sitting around the table, and ran up the stairs to the bright orange bedroom to which he was no stranger. Slamming the door, he took pleasure from the release of energy it allowed and instantly his nerves calmed. Letting out a shaking breath, he sat on the edge of his bed, hanging his head. He didn’t mean to push her away; he just didn’t know how to hold her close.

--

She remained outside for a while, letting the frigid wind cut through her jumper. Her hair whipped around her face as she, too, stared out over the dark hills, concentrating on nothing but the past. The flick of a light caught her attention, and her head instantly reacted, jerking towards the upper most bedroom of The Burrow. She heard a door slam, and the enlargement of a shadow as the body moved around the room before becoming still.

Wrapping her arms protectively around her petite form, she remained outside, willing the air to bite harder at her skin. She only knew about his parents from others, not from him. She was not going to allow him to push her away, not over something that could so easily be brought to the surface if he would just allow her to face it with him, instead of just charging blindly forward as he was doing. As short as their relationship had been, she knew Teddy better than she knew herself, and he was well aware of it.

She turned, ready to face their demons, and trudged towards to door. Noticing the shocked expressions of her family through the glass, she opened the door to a silent room.

A moment passed with continued silence, eyes staring expectantly at her, awaiting an explanation, but all she had to offer was, “Hello, everyone.” With a simple smile, she continued through the room. As she walked up the stairs, she hesitated. All he’d been doing is running away all night, and even on the train, he wouldn’t say one word to her, but this was it. She didn’t care if she had to blockade the door; he was going to give her a chance.

--

He hardly heard the creak of the door as he paced angrily back and forth in the small space. Wearing the familiar pattern into the ground, he turned at the window and once again came to face Victoire. He stopped, standing still, unable to move any part of his body. No matter what his temperament, she always had this effect on him. But not for long tonight, his emotions were running too high.

She didn’t speak; she just sat down on the edge of the bed. Looking at her expectantly, he opened his arms in a welcoming manner, “If you want to say something, say it, Victoire. You’ve been following me for the whole night for a reason. What’s it?”

Her eyes met his; but the eyes that usually sparkled with warmth were cold and empty. Her mouth was set, and her body tense, and still, she didn’t speak.

“What do you want?" he asked hotly, advancing towards her, passion and anger sweeping through his body, causing his hands to shake and his feet to move unsteadily.

Her eyes didn’t break their hold on his, and the coldness intensified. He reached out a hand to grasp her shoulder, and she stiffened away from his touch, still not speaking. Pulling his hand back in fury, Teddy began to pace the cramped space once again, attempting to ignore the girl sitting mere feet away from him. Once again he stopped, inches in front of her, holding his breath.

“You want me to talk, I’ll talk. Do you know what it’s like to be invisible? Because I do. I don’t have a father or a mother to drive in a caravan with during the Christmas vacations and pick me up, happily greeting me just as the other parents do. All of my memories are surreal: I don’t have the baby pictures with my mum holding me up in the air, dancing about; I don’t have the father to offer me tips on how to get my first girl; I’ve got my Grand Mum, and that’s it.

“When I sit in the Great Hall and watch the other students receive mail from their parents, it’s not even jealousy that I feel, it’s contempt. Why couldn’t it be them? Why am I the one who has no parents? Why not the scrawny third year next to me with too short robes and large front teeth?

“I don’t talk to you about this because you are one of them,” he finished, awaiting her shocked outburst, wanting her to hit him at least, allow him to feel something.

But nothing came. She just looked down at her hands and slowly nodded her head. When she looked back up, her eyes where not longer empty, on the contrary, they were full of tears.

Letting out a rasp of rage at the sight of her shining eyes, he turned away from her. The harsh reflection of a cracked, crooked mirror that was hanging on the wall opposite him caught his eye. The cut of his jaw was severe, muscle throbbing; his usually bright hair a dull, straw blonde; but the most stunning feature was his eyes: the dark irises popped from the drained white of his ashen face. He stared hard at himself, allowing his unusual appearance to overwhelm him until he turned back to Victoire’s shaken body.

He allowed himself to observe her now as she sat before him. Her hands were clasped, knuckles white with pressure, her eyes wide in absent thought, but her most stunning feature was her mouth: the thick, chapped lips were throbbing with blood, and the corners turned down in doubt.

“Teddy, you’re right,” she announced hollowly, the empty stare not leaving her eyes, “I cannot relate to your situation, but I will always be there for you whether or not you believe I will be. I’m not here to show my parents off to you, even though you seem to think I am; I am here because I love you, and you have unforgivably forgotten that.”

It was her turn, now, to leave. Instead of storming out in the fashion that Teddy had been, she stood up slowly, arms hanging jaggedly by her sides, and walked towards the bedroom door.

He watched as her pale hand began to pull the door closed, debating on whether or not he should stop her from shutting it completely, or let her go on her way and allow the gaping hole between them to split even wider. As the brass lock began to click shut, he made his decision and lunged forward.

“V-- wait!” He called, snatching the door from her grasp and pulling her with it, causing her small body to fly into the room. She bounced off Teddy’s chest, and let out a small, “ouff!”

He felt her recoil as her body met his and a fleeting shot of regret coursed through his veins. He did not know how to say something to her, or even what to say, so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Well, yes, one would hope that you being my boyfriend would lead to the idea of you not hating me, but obviously it had crossed your mind, so I must be mistaken.”

“Victoire, please. I’m sorry,” he pleaded as she began to turn her back to him.

“I can’t do this right now, Teddy. This runs much deeper than I assumed, and I need time to realise that,” she responded, the empty look slowly being replaced by the life that he was used to seeing.

A moment of uncertainty passed between them, but all Teddy could do was nod his head. With his eyes lowered, he didn’t see her approaching hand, but felt the cool pads of her palm brush against his cheek before she left the room to let him squander in his actions. Allowing himself to do just that, he turned and threw himself onto the bed, burying his face in the moth-eaten pillow.

--

Peeling his eyes opened, he allowed the fading sunlight to break through his sudden and unwelcome sleep. He sat upright in the bed, dragging his hands behind him for support, and groggily took in his surroundings. Once again noticing the grim-covered mirror opposite him, he slowly screwed up his face in concentration, as he did every time he awoke. Opening his eyes to see the result, he only saw a mundane face staring back at him.

Faint recollections of the day were appearing in his mind as he continued to stare at himself in the mirror, and he let out a small groan of trepidation as he thought of the damage he had done with Victoire.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he stood up and stretched his arms above his head, this time letting out a groan of pleasure. He walked to his trunk and pulled out a leaf of parchment and a quill, then sat down at the magically expanded desk that was stuffed in the corner between the armoire and Ron’s old Chudley Canons collection box.

He crammed his legs into the expectedly small space, but found very much legroom, and stretched out, lying the parchment down on the gnarled wood of the desk. He smoothed his hands over it in a fluctuating pattern, and he began to think. He stood up suddenly from his cramped position and went back to his trunk. Digging through his messily organised garments, he found what he was looking for: the shoebox. It was plain and brown, and a bit frayed at the edges. The top had a message scrawled on it that had long since faded, but Teddy never got a new one because this was the box.

He sat back down at the desk and took the top off, setting it aside. Taking the worn stack of papers from inside, he began to shuffle through them. His messy handwriting jumped from each page. As he leafed through the stack, each page became a bit more faded and a bit more worn, especially the ones at the very bottom, for when those were written they were few and far between.

‘I’m on the train to Hogwarts. It’s my first time!’

‘Grandmother is sick, something about a poisonous shrub?’

‘I wish you could have been there…’

He threw the stack haphazardly aside, causing the letters to jump in the air and flutter to the floor. Completely disregarding the confined chaos, he searched around for the quill, desperately throwing his hands over the surface of the table in effort to find the feather. He found it buried under the mess of old parchments on the corner of the desk. He was poised to write, so he did. Dipping his quill in the inkpot, he began.

Mum and Dad-

I’m not going to begin this letter with casuals, because I can’t. This year has been different. I haven’t written to you in three or four months�”I know, I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve had a lot on my hands.

Anyway, it was just Mum’s birthday again, and now I’m back at the Burrow. I’ve got myself a girlfriend. Can you believe it? Victoire Weasley. We’ve just had a rather large row over various things such as you guys. It’s hard for me to fathom that she could possibly understand what it is like for me to not have parents when she has such wonderful ones.

She loves me though. She says she loves me and that’s enough. It is. But still, she can’t expect to understand this thing, can she? I thought she would be my foundation, my constant, but now she’s gone and gotten emotional as girls do. You know, Dad? Sorry, Mum. But it’s not really her fault that she can’t understand, is it? I mean, it’s not as if I wish her parents were dead, that’s an awful thing to wish, and I need her. She really is my constant…

I’ve got to go, I’ve just realised that I have to fix this thing that I’ve broken. Thanks for helping me recognise that I can be really daft sometimes.

Love,
Your Son

Teddy left the letter amongst the other and pushed himself up from the chair. Running towards the door, he paused when he got to the knob. He couldn’t do this now. Something was stopping his hand from turning the knob, maybe it was fear of retribution, or maybe it was something else, but all the same, he could not turn the doorknob. His hand dropped back to his side, and he fell back into his bed, allowing sleep to once again take him.

--

He heard the creak of the door as it opened and closed, but did not look up from his position on the bed. It undulated with pressure as the person sat down in the corner; however, this person did not speak.

“Ngumbff,” Teddy moaned from his pillow.

“Really.” It was Harry.

Relieved that he would not have to face the torrential conversation with Victoire, he flopped over to see his godfather, but kept his eyes covered.

“As much as I am not the person who should be giving you this speech, I think I will because I know from experience. I am much older and much wiser than I was when I was your age, and I also happened to have a very pretty girlfriend. You know who it was?”

Teddy could have guessed, but he gave Harry the benefit of the conversation. “Who?”

“Ginny. She sure was distraught when I told her it was better for her if we gave it some space.”

“I haven’t broken things�””

Harry put up his hand. “All right. And as much as this might not even directly be about Victoire, it’s affecting her much more than you think. She just went running to Fleur with tears in her eyes, and you know how it can be when the mothers get involved, especially that one.”

Teddy nodded his head and looked down. “But this isn’t at all about Victoire, is it, Teddy?”

This time, Teddy shook his head. It was never awkward talking to Harry about his parents, but it wasn’t a welcomed feeling to have the grief bubble up from his stomach and into his heart, to flow through his veins, almost paralysing him as it was now. Having somebody realise what was eating at his core almost hurt more than the actual trauma. It was a conflicting feeling, he knew, but it was almost a relief. More than anything in the world he wished that his parents had never died, that they were sitting here with him instead of Harry wondering why he was hurting, but they weren’t. When Harry had broken the surface of this feeling that Teddy had, instead of skirting around it as Victoire had been doing, it impaled his very being, crippling his heart, and causing his bones to ache with pain and love at the same time.

Harry always broke the surface. When he was five and wondering why his mother wasn’t there to sing him a lullaby at night, Harry knew; when had become a man and no one had been there for him, Harry knew; and when he came home for Christmas holidays with a broken spirit every year, Harry knew.

Teddy looked into the bright eyes of his godfather and he saw relation, not forgiveness or understanding, but a relation of sorts that no one but another man who had lost his parents before he knew them would have deep in his eyes.

“No, it’s not about Victoire, but you knew that before you came up here.”

A low chuckle erupted from Harry’s chest. “You have me there.”

Teddy continued to study him; to take in every bit of that man that he had always looked to. “You’ve known all along what it’s been about, haven’t you?”

The chuckle turned to a lax smile, and Harry’s eyes glazed over. “Since the day they were lost, I have known it would be about this.”

Teddy took to studying his hands, finding it much easier to take interest in them than in this conversation. The silence lengthened, but it wasn’t awkward, it was thoughtful, almost warm and giving.

“A wise man once said to me, ‘It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live’. It took me many years to listen to those brilliant words, but I think that it is in your best interests to take them to heart,” Harry said as he began to push himself up from the stiff bed and out the door. Teddy gazed after him as he clicked the door shut.

“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live,” he muttered, throwing his wistful gaze out the window only to see the glaring moon penetrating into the depths of the sky.

He sat down at the table next to his grandmother and tucked in to the breakfast that Mrs. Weasley had prepared. The quiet atmosphere of the room kept him silent. Very carefully, he picked up his utensils and began to eat. Throughout the meal, he kept his focus on Victoire out of the corner of his eye, glancing directly at her every so often, but he never received a returned look.

By the end of the meal, if one could call it that, Teddy had moved his eggs around his plate and eaten half his toast. Making to stand up and take his plate to the sink, he felt a cool hand on his and looked down to see the thin wrinkles of his grandmother. She motioned for him to sit back down and when he did so, she pulled him close.

“Are you just going to stare at her all day, or are you going to fix it?”

“Grandmother�””

“Well?” She looked up and signaled him towards her with the nod of a head. “Go on. And why is your hair so light? I like it when it’s bright colours like your mother’s used to be.”

Teddy’s hand jumped to his head and he absentmindedly tugged on a strand of his bland hair, turning from his grandmother’s curious stare. He walked to where Victoire was sitting on the far side of the table and looked around to see if anyone was watching. As expected, everyone was.

Quietly, he bent over and whispered in her ear, “Would you come with me? I’ve got something to show you.”

She hesitated, looking around at the others seated at the table. Her arm twitched to her side, and still, she hesitated. Losing his patience, Teddy took hold of her hand and pulled her up, dragging her behind him and out the backdoor.

Fresh snow condensed beneath his shoes as he led her to their destination. The trees were coated in pristine sprinkles of crystallized snow, glinting in the morning sun as they moved along. Each breath billowed in front of Teddy, being left in his wake for Victoire to walk through, her own warm breath intermingling with his. This breath methodically warmed his face for a brief moment, only to once again allow exposure to the biting cold when he inhaled.

“I need a cloak,” a voice laced with shivers spoke from behind him, breaking through the calm silence of the white morning.

“When we get there, you won’t need a cloak. It won’t be much longer.” He trudged on, kicking snow aside and effectively leaving a deep deficit in the level puff on the ground. The grove loomed before him, oddly void of snow. The rich green of the drooping branches sheltered it from the rest of the world, creating a dark, hot barrier that contrasted starkly with the gleaming bright of the day. Harry had told him about this place. It was were he and Ginny would run off to on the frequent occasion that Mrs. Weasley didn’t want to leave them alone, so Teddy took his advice and ran off to it, however different the cause.

“We’re here,” Teddy announced, halting in front of the foreboding branches. Victoire stayed behind him, not advancing to his side, and remained silent. He could feel the uncertainty radiating from her body; the doubt was interwoven in the wavering breath that streamed from her hot mouth, causing him to falter in his own certainty.

He pushed aside some branches, forming an opening to the canopied escape, and stepped aside to allow her entrance first. As hesitant as her previous demeanour had been, she leapt forward at the inviting heat that was radiating from within the branches. He followed, dropping the branches. Their swishing allowed some of the much-savoured heat to escape, but it was replenished by the charm he had cast in preparation for this meeting.

Watching as she walked to the opposite side, he couldn’t help but notice the way her body moved beneath thin fabric of her clothing, the way her long hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, the way she stepped so carefully. He wanted to follow her, reach out and hold her close to feel that body against his, but he knew that would throw away what he had worked for this morning; he had to be careful or else he knew he could lose it all. So he remained on his side, and when she turned to face him, he felt the earth shift beneath his feet: her seemingly pale eyes were heavy with emotion, creasing her forehead with consideration and thought.

She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but stumbled. Shaking her head, she looked down and put her hand on her forehead, closing her mouth. Again, she looked up at him, this time a small stutter erupted from her, but she stopped before it formed a discernable word. He awaited her statement patiently, thinking about his actions carefully: one hasty suggestion or prod could push her even farther away from him. He contemplated her every move: the way she shook her head as thoughts ran rampantly through her cluttered mind; how she avoided his eyes purposefully; what it meant to know this girl standing across from him meant more than the world, she really knew him, but she still couldn’t seem to form these simple thoughts into words.

Finally they came.

She looked into his eyes and began, “Teddy, I don’t have much to say, really, other than I’m sorry. I’m sorry for putting my feelings above yours. It was selfish and narrow minded, however much you hurt me with your words, I deserved it.”

Stopping, she left her hopeful eyes on his and took one faltering step forward. He felt her words sink into his mind, and knew that all that mattered to him was she, and he would do whatever he needed to keep that. She was his tether in the storm, his solidity that kept him constant. He waited for her to close the gap between them, to take the final steps back to him that she had originally taken away.

“You didn’t deserve�””

“Please don’t. I’m already putting myself out there for saying it, so don’t negate it. It’s how I feel,” She took another step, “and you need to know it. It’s simple, really.”

“So that’s it then? You’re not going to call me a great git or anything?”

“No, I’m not. I realised that there are far greater things in this world to be worried about than my own satisfaction with it.” She shivered even though the hot air whirled around the enclosure.

Teddy looked at her, taking in her set features, and understood that this was not an easy thing for her to say. But he had not come out here to have her apologise to him, he had come out here with different intentions.

“I didn’t bring you out here to have you say you’re sorry, which I don’t really think you should have. I am a great git�”you might as well have just said it,” he paused, grabbing hold of her hands, and prepared himself. “The memory of my parents means a lot to me. It’s one of the only things that keeps me going to look at the crumpled pictures I have. But that’s just it. The pictures are all I have left. I don’t even remember looking up into their faces as a baby, and it is frustrating to know that I had no control over their outcome. But, you and you’re bloody stubbornness has helped me to realise, as you’ve just said, that there are far greater things to be worried about than my satisfaction.

“So, what I’m really trying to say is we’re all right now. No more of this nonsense with satisfaction and whatnot,” he finished, hoping that his words had given her the answers she seemed to so desperately need.

She remained quiet for some time, her hands slipping from his as the thoughts mulled about in her mind. Her face was slack with thought, but her eyes were still fierce with emotion. They stood like this, facing each other, for what seemed like an eternity. He didn’t dare open his mouth, nor move a muscle�”she seemed so deep in thought. This situation was one of utmost delicacy to Teddy. His feelings for Victoire would never outstrip the inkling feeling of love he had for his parents, but she was all he had now to grow with. His intentions had never been to push her away or build up a barrier that sheltered their relationship, but he had. And however much he had tried to convince himself, he did so unconscientiously, he had known all along how to fix it. He just didn’t have the drive to do it.

He did love her; just not with the type of love he had for his parents’ memory.

He watched in slow motion as she lifted her arms and snaked them around his motionless body. The soft weight of her body pressed against his was a comfort, and it always had been. It was almost refreshing to know that this petty argument was absolved, that she was going to look beyond the feeling that she couldn’t grasp. Placing a light kiss on top of her head, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, leaving little space for the barrier to rise between them again.

“How did you enhance this place, anyway?” her muffled voice erupted from somewhere around his chest. Her hot breath permeated his thin clothing, which lead him to think of the way her body had moved beneath her clothes as he had watched walk away from him not ten minutes before. It was all he could do to push that image from his mind and focus on her question.

“Oh, the charm I put on this? It was nothing. Just a few well-placed warming spells and the snow was gone,” he replied. “Do you know how I found this place?”

He watched as her eyes journeyed over the hanging branches of the tree and settled on the place they had entered. No recognition crossed her face, so she turned back to Teddy.

“No, how did you even know this was here?”

He rested his head on top of hers; they had always been the perfect height to fit together like puzzle pieces. “Well, Harry actually told me about it.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“And he said that it’s where he used to bring Ginny when your grandmum wouldn’t give them a few moments of priv�””

“Teddy Lupin! You brought me to Harry and Ginny’s secret place! I feel like we’re trespassing on their memories,” she finished easily as she swatted him playfully on the chest, her hand leaving a hot imprint.

The nonchalant way in which she had said her last phrase was comforting, yet daunting to Teddy. Other things, such as his own fleeting memories, seemed so trivial and intangible to her, and here she stood worrying that they were intruding on someone else’s past, when all she had been trying to do was intrude on his. But he had to ignore it to move on; this conflicting emotion they felt was one of importance, but Teddy knew that having her was even more important. So, he overlooked this haunting feeling and pushed it aside to be forgotten and ignored.

“Harry freely shared it with me, so I figured it would be all right to trespass a bit,” he replied to her concerns. “I wonder what those two would get up to out here…”

“I cannot believe you really just breached that topic. You, my dear, have gone above and beyond anything I have ever believed you capable of with that last state�””

She was silenced by his thin lips as he pressed them against hers. She readily accepted him, apparently prepared to overlook all that had passed between them and move on, which is exactly how he had planned the conclusion to this rendezvous. He pulled her closer, yearning to feel her body in every way possible. A small moan came from the depths of Victoire’s throat, and she slowly pulled her head back to look up at him.

“I think I know what they got up to out here,” she whispered throatily.

“Now you’re the one breaching the topic. You are just as bad as I.” He bent down to give her one final kiss that trembled with passion and promise before grabbing her hand.

“Let’s get back inside, shall we? They’ll send a search party out if we are gone for too long.”

With those final departing words, he led her out of the warm haven and back into the cold. They followed the deep path they had trudged on their way there, but this time Victoire walked beside him, his arm draped over her shoulders sheltering her from the cold. When they reached the back door after the short excursion, Victoire pulled him close.

“You mean the world to me, Teddy Lupin. Never forget that,” she whispered before grabbing his collar in her fist and pulling his mouth to hers. She exhaled heavily when the kiss broke and gave him a suggestive grin before pushing the back door opened. Teddy stood in the same spot for a moment, a bit winded by what had just passed.

“Are you going to stand out in the cold all night, or are you going to come inside? Come on! You’re letting the cold air in the house.” That soft voice chided him from where the seductive grin had just been, and he instantly obeyed, all previous encroachments lay forgotten.

He entered into the warmly lit kitchen of the Burrow to see that everyone was compacted into the small room: some sitting in chairs, others standing, several being forced to sit on the counter for lack of standing room, and playing beneath the table were the small children. All the Weasleys glanced in their direction as they shut the door, and the din of the room instantly silenced.

“Where have you two lovebirds been off to?” George questioned through narrowed eyes from his spot on the counter.

Teddy was silent, and he glanced at Harry for support only to see a sly grin and knowing eyes staring back at him.

“Er�””

“Gnomes, Uncle George,” Victoire replied quickly. Teddy noticed that she, too, was glancing nervously around the room, her eyes resting on her parents. One of the children beneath the table let out an ear-splitting shriek and began to cry, immediately taking the focus off Teddy and Victoire and onto the crying child, which appeared to be Lily. All eyes were off of them except George’s, who’s still remained squinted suspiciously in their direction. Continuing to stand in the entryway of the door, she turned carefully to Teddy, eyes scanning to make sure nobody was watching them still.

“Have to love my wonderfully prodding family, yes?” She muttered to him as she looked up at him in apology, only to be interrupted by the presence of another body beside them.

“Yes, he’d better watch out or he’ll be in it sooner than he wishes,” Harry announced, the sly grin still present in the crinkles of his cheeks. Teddy looked at Victoire alarmed that Harry had just said such a presumptive statement, but he heard his godfather’s laugh as Harry said, “The looks on your faces. I’m just joking around with the two of you! By the way you two just looked at each other, you would have though I just announced Ron was pregnant.”

Teddy relaxed a bit, but he was still under the mischievously scrutinising stare of Harry, so he laughed it off. The air of the room buzzed with excitement and conversation, which was normal to the Burrow. Everyone had begun to move around them, weaving in and out of the kitchen and ignoring the trio of people conversing by the door.

“Victoire, I’m going to take Teddy from you for a little while�”I have a present I have been meaning to give him,” Harry announced.

“Oh, by all means, take him. I don’t want him,” she bantered back, winking at Teddy before walking towards her parents.

Teddy watched after her, his eyes remaining on certain parts of her body as she walked away, but he was pulled from his reverie when Harry cleared his throat. Teddy looked up at him, and followed the faint nod of the head that Harry gave him. They walked through the squeezed kitchen and into the living room where the great clock sat. Always having been in great awe of the clock, he looked upon its stationary hands as he walked by it and up the stairs with Harry. Silently continuing up to Harry’s room on the third floor, Teddy noticed the creak of the floor, the gust of the wind through the open window and a chill ran through him. He didn’t enjoy silence. It was eerie and lonely to him, two things that he pushed far away. He rejoiced in pandemonium and chaos, enjoying every bit of confusion and loudness that bounced through his head.

Reaching the room, Harry ushered Teddy in and shut the door behind them. The room matched all the others in the Burrow: warm, plain, and homely, with a few touches that Ginny had added in her spare time such as the giant mural of a lily on the far wall.

“Here, you can sit…” Harry muttered as he absentmindedly pulled out a chair. He had begun to ruffle through a pair of robes he had hanging on the bureau. Apparently finding what he had been searching for, he let out an exclamation of accomplishment and set a small, poorly wrapped box on the bed. Pulling up a chair, he sat opposite Teddy, and lent down on his elbows.

He let out a faint sigh before beginning. “Many years ago, when Voldemort was at large, it was very common for witches and wizards of any age to write a will. You know, passing on possessions to their loved ones and whatnot.”

Pausing, Harry’s eyes bounced between Teddy’s searching for the realisation that had slowly begun to creep over Teddy’s body, warming ever bit of his tingling skin. His parents had known. A fantasised scene of his young parents flashed across his mind as they wrote the last words the world would ever know of them onto a mere piece of parchment.

“They were ready for what the war brought because giving themselves was the most they could do. The war had taken too many of their loved ones to lay in wait for it to end,” Harry announced, sensing the troubled air that had erupted from Teddy’s very pores and engulfed his being.

Harry picked the small, flat box up and held it in his hands: an offering to Teddy. “Anyway, I’ve had this for quite some time now, as you would have surmised. I just couldn’t figure out the right time to give it to you, and now time seems to have jumped up and slapped me in the face. So, here you go. From your parents to you.”

Teddy took the package with hesitant hands, unsure of what was awaiting him beneath the thin, brown wrapping. Looking down at it caused the world around him to dissipate, and the pounding in his ears became ever prominent as he began to pull the wrapping apart.

A worn, leather cover began to appear, edges frayed from overuse. As he pulled back the paper more, he saw faded gold letters scrawled across the cover. He finished peeling off the paper, throwing it unconcernedly to the ground, and tipped to cover so he could discern what was written on the front.

PROPERTY OF
R. J. Lupin

Then written below the inscription was a self-written note from his father.

Keep out. Yes, that means you, Tonks.

Teddy gripped the journal in his slightly shaking hands, still unsure of himself. This was his father’s deepest wishes and desires, his beliefs and feelings. This was his father compressed into a small, gold-leafed book. It seemed so petty yet so frightening to hold this in his hands. It was only a book, but it was the one thing that his dad had cherished enough to divulge himself to.

Looking up at his godfather, he unsteadily cleared his throat. “Thanks very much for this,” he said almost to himself, as if he was actually speaking the words to his father.

Harry was silent for a few moments, but at last he stood up. “I’ll leave you to it. Happy Christmas, Teddy.”

Teddy continued to stare down at the book, and when he heard the soft thud of the door closing, his eyes still remained glued on the cover. The world around him had completely faded, the shine of the sun and the sound of talking below him were inferior to the object in his hands.

He stood up suddenly, feeling the strain in his tense legs, and walked automatically to the door of the bedroom, not once removing his eyes from the gift. Making his way absently up the stairs, he staggered a bit in his march, hitting the banister every so often. When he finally reached the uppermost portion of the leaning house, he entered and threw the book down on the bed; the empty feeling in his hands unwelcome.

Staring down at his hands as if they were not his own, Teddy stopped in the middle of the room; the world began to spin around him. The sound of the book falling against the stiff mattress echoed in his ears causing him to shift his eyes up to it. He steadied himself from the vertigo that had suddenly overtaken him and moved to the bed, leaning against it. The journal was a mere foot away from him and yet he could not pick it up. It was as if his arm had temporarily lost functionality as it hung limply by his side. The shine of the sun caught the gold trimmings of the pages and at dauntingly glared into his eyes, enticing him to pick it back up.

But he couldn’t.

He forced himself away from the bed, leaning his forehead against the opposite wall, but he still felt the book’s presence, drawing him towards it. But he resisted. Turning around, he looked down onto it. It seemed such a simple thing to open the pages and flip through the life of his father, but his hands were not allowing him to do so. It could give him so many answers to his questions, maybe a faint look into his father’s mind.

Curiosity getting the best of him, he lurched across the room and grabbed up the small book. The familiar weight felt comforting in his hands, and he looked upon it with anxious eyes. A small chuckle escaped him and as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Noise felt unwelcome in this room.

The words, “Keep out. Yes that means you, Tonks,” caused a small smile to replace the chuckle. Wondering if perhaps there had been an incident when his mother had been nosing around in Remus’ things, only to be caught by her husband who instantly scrawled the message as a warning for future events.

His mind began to wander in the direction of his superficial memories: the picture he had of them sitting together, his mother’s wand, an old gramophone of his father. What if this journal could give him real memories?

He opened it.

The smell of old parchment exploded into his surroundings as he looked at the first page of his father’s tidy writing.

I’ve never really found myself feeling sane after addressing a journal with a ‘Hello!’ so I’ll leave it at this. I’ve just proposed to Tonks. It feels right, I think. The moment just hit me when I did it. I’ve had a ring for a while, just never the time. It was easy really, but I still have this nagging feeling pulling at the back of mind that I’m not the right one for her. I know she may tell me time and time again that she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t love me, but I know that she deserves more than I can give….

Teddy stared at the page, wondering if his mother knew the depth of his father’s misgivings, and if there had been arguments and fights over these doubts. Looking through the next pages, he caught glimpses of sentences that alluded to the answers that he was looking for.

She thinks I’m full of it apparently, and let me know so by telling my to shove it up my…

…I am going to visit Harry soon to let him know that I’m leaving Tonks and Teddy. I can’t let myself be exposed to them anymore; I am too much of a threat, especially to a child that is so vulnerable.

Teddy stared at the page, before snapping the book closed. His father had left his mother? That couldn’t be. Everyone had always told him that they had been the picture of perfect together. Apparently it had been rather the opposite, and they had just led on differently, but not to Harry. Yet Harry had never alluded to the fact that his parent’s relationship had been troubled. Maybe there had been extenuating circumstances.

Instantly wanting to know more, Teddy flipped the journal back opened to where his finger had been marking it.

This is for the better. I know that Teddy will grow up in a secure environment now. No once a month transformations or hiding away from my family…

…Apparently Harry thinks I’m full of it too.

Nymphadora came by today with my son. My son. She says he cries when she sings to him. He never cried when I sang to him. She got rather emotional herself when she got to talking about how I hadn’t been around for the past week. She wants me back. She actually wants me back. It’s hard for me to fathom that she could want somebody who could potentially cause so much harm to her own son. But she wouldn’t take no for an answer. That’s what I’ve always liked about her…

I’m back in the old house. Teddy didn’t cry when I sang him to sleep, but my wife did. She’s my wife, and I’m a gentleman. No more of this pathetic leaving bologna. I’ve got to take my life and live it, she says. My days could by numbered. I just hope they aren’t too numbered. I want to see what this little boy has in store. I am already so proud of him, and I always will be…

At this point, Teddy could no longer read the words his father had written. He had known that his days were numbered. Looking up at the date that had been scrawled in the uppermost corner of the page, he saw that it was merely a few months before he had died. But all the same, he had gone back to his mother for him, it had all been for him. His father had been proud of him, and he said he always would be.

Teddy tucked the journal protectively in the folds of his robes and made for the door. He needed to find Harry.

As he passed by an opened window, he noted that the sun had risen and passed it’s highest point in the sky, falling down behind the trees and casting harsh shadows across the rolling hills of the Burrow. Teddy paused for a moment at on of these windows and leaned his head out, breathing in deep the smell of fresh snow and new life, and bright smile erupting over his usually solemn features.

He continued on his journey, and once he had checked his godfather’s bedroom, he walked the remaining steps down to the bottom floor to find Harry sitting beside the fire with Ginny, animatedly telling her a story.

Clearing his throat, he waited for Harry to realise that he had entered the room. Harry stopped mid-violent-hand-gesture to look up at Teddy. Teddy then shot and expectant glance in Ginny’s direction.

“Er, Ginny? Sorry to interrupt my own story, but do you think you could give me and Teddy a moment?” Harry asked his wife, all the while looking directly at Teddy.

“Sure thing, boys. Just make sure I have my husband back by the end of the night, all right, Teddy?” Ginny joked as she stood up and began the trek up the stairs.

Teddy smiled at her and took the sunken spot on the couch where she had just risen from, pulling out the journal. He rubbed his thumbs over the surface that was becoming familiar to his calloused hands, and looked up at Harry. His eyes were bright with unshed emotions that had been harboured in his chest waiting for a moment when it had been all right to explode. The time had come to him in the shape of a small, worn, relatively floppy journal that wore all of his father’s thoughts and emotions.

“My dad left my mum?” Teddy asked. It was the first question that had burned in his mind as he had been reading the pages, and it was the one of most importance.

Harry shifted a bit before answering, “He did yes, but only for a little while.”

“And you knew this the whole time?” Teddy’s questions were raw and dry, not caring that he could possibly offend Harry with his blunt assessment of the apparent truth.

“Since the day he left her, I knew it happened. Why do you ask?” Harry retorted.

“Because you’ve known for over seventeen years that my dad left her, and you never once thought that you should tell me?” Teddy’s voice wasn’t harsh, nor was it loud. It was the type of anger that was low and cynical, coming from the very depths of one’s soul, burning from one’s unused heart.

“I thought it more appropriate to wait and have your father tell you.”

At these words, Teddy went silent. It was obvious that Harry must’ve had this journal for some time, at least ever since his father’s death. So, he had waited. It had been his father’s place to tell him, one of those special things that a father must tell the son, if he had the chance. And this time, Remus actually had the chance because he had put it in words.

“So he went back to Mum because of me?” Teddy asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

Harry thought on this question for a moment before he replied, “Not entirely. You were a major contribution to his return, because your father was one of the greatest gentlemen that I knew, that anyone knew, but he did love your mother. However much he thought she was too good for him, he loved her deeply.”

All of Teddy’s doubts and frustrations vanished with these last words that Harry had said. They had offered the most comfort of anything that had ever been said to him. His father had loved him, and had been proud of him as he said in his writing. And his mother had been deeply in love with both of them.

“One thing I know that your mother and your father would never want is for you to be sitting here brooding over losing them. They went down fighting, which is only how they would have had it. What they would want is for you to be the happiest kid out there, living on their heroic legacies like it was a badge of honour.”

Teddy’s heart swelled with pride as Harry continued to speak of his parents’ wishes to him. And somehow, deep down, he knew that Harry was right.

“I would know so because they told me the last bit themselves one night many years ago,” Harry whispered his last words, patting Teddy on the shoulder.

A small laugh escaped his lips as he thought of all that had just passed between him and his godfather. It may not be everything, but it was definitely the beginning to finding his happiness again.

“Thanks, Harry,” he mumbled, as he looked down at the journal, once again rubbing hid finger across the worn lettering.

“Oi! And look at that! Your hair’s blue again, Teddy,” Harry said, ruffling his hair, “Brilliant!”

Laughter once again escaped Teddy’s lips as he looked in the mirror at the end of the hall. Indeed, his hair was a shock of blue atop his dark face.

This time he whispered, “Thanks Mum and Dad.”