Chapter 2: Sunrise
Harry closed the front door of Grimmauld Place and stepped inside. When he, Ron, and Hermione moved in two months ago, they had done their best to try and brighten the place up a bit. Hermione was able to add windows in the dingy hallway that showed picturesque landscapes and let the sun shine in like those in the Ministry of Magic. The pictures of Black ancestors cluttering the wall had been taken down, much to the displeasure of their occupants. The tarnished chandeliers and doorknobs were replaced by cheery hanging lights and polished, round doorknobs. After painstaking efforts to remove Sirius’ mother’s portrait from the wall, they had almost given up when Ron’s wand backfired and she fell, silently to the floor. Hermione was still trying to figure out exactly what had caused this. Finally, Harry had personally blasted Bellatrix’s name off of the tapestry in the drawing room. He then restored the names “Sirius” and “Andromeda” and added “Theodore Tonks,” “Nymphadora,” “Remus Lupin,” and “Teddy.”
But even in this merrier atmosphere, Harry still felt trapped in his own house. He never sympathized with Sirius more than he had those last few months. He sighed and proceeded downstairs into the kitchen to start breakfast. No more than ten minutes later, he heard the quiet banter of his friends echoing down the stairs. Ron and Hermione entered the room, Ron in t-shirt and blue striped pajama pants (that were finally long enough) and Hermione in a blue nightdress.
“Morning, Harry,” Ron yawned as he took a seat at the table. “Whatcha got for breakfast?”
“Eggs and toast,” replied Harry. As he was always the earliest to “wake up”, Harry had become the resident breakfast-maker. He separated the eggs onto three plates and put a piece of buttered toast on each of them.
“Had a rough night, Harry?” Hermione asked as he handed her a plate. “You look like you haven’t slept at all.” Harry avoided her gaze.
“I’m fine,” he lied. “I just turned in late.”
“Well I hope you’re not to tired to go to Andromeda’s today,” said Hermione and Harry choked on his toast. Hermione watched him with concern as Ron slapped him hard on the back without even pausing in devouring his eggs.
“Yeah,” Harry panted once he could breathe again. “Yeah, I’m still going.”
And he meant it, sort of. It was just, he happened to remember a few things he had been putting off lately that had to be done. He spent a few hours cleaning up Sirius’ room. He still called it that. It was a bit like wading through a dumpster. The clothes Hermione hadn’t scavenged to throw in the laundry were strewn about the room. He had just given up looking for his the pair to his favorite socks (not matching of course, they were an old gift from Dobby) when he found it in between the bed and the wall. The walls of the room looked exactly the same as they had when Sirius lived there. Harry had no desire for anything else. The same pictures of Muggle motorcycles were on the wall, along the girls in bikinis (he felt a strange twinge of guilt when he looked at those, he wasn’t really sure why). Sometimes he would spend hours just staring at the picture of the Marauders on the wall. In fact, the only change was that Lily’s letter had been put next to it.
He did whatever he could to stall until three. He couldn’t recall exactly when Andromeda said Teddy’s nap was, but subconsciously almost, he was planning on arriving just in the middle of it, so he could be sent away, back to Grimmauld place, and avoid the memory for just another day. At last though, the moment came when Hermione’s sharp looks grew to be too much, and with a quick turn Harry Disapparated.
He landed just outside the house. Normally, he would have apparated a little farther away and walked, but he didn’t want to look at the outside of the house longer than he had to. The last time he had been to this house was- well, it wasn’t a pleasant time.
He knocked once, quietly. He was shifting from foot to foot on the step in front of the door, surveying the slightly withered bushes and the faded grass, when, to his disappointment, the door swung open. Andromeda stood there, looking tired, her hair streaked with gray. Harry couldn’t help but notice the pale lavender circles under her eyes. But the look in her eyes was the worst. It was the same thing he saw when he had still looked in mirrors: a shield of defiance, set in front of a background of despair. Her lips curled upward at the sight of him.
“Harry,” she said, her voice as tired as she looked. “You have perfect timing. He just woke up.”
Harry followed her into the house, kicking himself mentally. She moved slowly and bent, as if carrying something heavy. The air in the house itself seemed compressing, and Harry was aware of the fact that it was suddenly harder to breathe. He walked into Teddy’s room after Andromeda.
The air in this room was considerably lighter. Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting friendly shadows on the pale blue walls. Andromeda stood up straighter, and she appeared was rejuvenated. A small crib was set on one side of the room, white. Miniature models of stars were floating above it.
Harry stared at the child clutching the bars of the crib. Instantly, he couldn’t remember his hesitations in coming. The child had light brown hair; he was wearing a small yellow baby outfit. He rubbed eyes slightly, and when his hand came away, Harry saw his deep chocolate eyes.
Harry could see Lupin, could see Tonks so clearly in his face. He felt a strange pull in his stomach. Andromeda smiled at him again, this time illuminating her whole face. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she whispered, slipping through the door.
Harry barely understood her. He moved closer to the crib, stretching a hand out. The figure in the crib looked at him questioningly. Harry placed a hand on the bar next to the chubby one of the baby. “Hi,” he said slowly. “Hi Teddy, I’m Harry. I’m- I’m your godfather.”
The baby looked up at him for a minute, tilting his head. A smile spread across his lips and he giggled. His hair turned a shocking pink. A sharp pain flashed through Harry’s chest. “Oh, you are definitely Tonks’s son,” he whispered through the bars.
Teddy sat there grinning at Harry. He lifted a chubby hand off the bar and reached it towards Harry. Harry felt as if he were petrified. He watched, almost is some sort of ridiculous horror, as the fingers came closer and closer, until they grazed his hand.
Harry gasped. A sharp shock of pain passed through his body at the touch. The next thing he knew he was across the room, panting for breath and rubbing his hand. But the pain was gone just as easily as it had come.
He examined his hand. Nothing, just the small scabs in a semicircle on his palm. The pain was completely in his head. It was the same pain he felt whenever he was alone, just sharper.
But, he thought as he gazed the child who had fallen back in the crib, his hair now black and his eyes a deep endless blue. It hurts less now, he realized. Usually the aftershock of the pain was the worst, just waves and waves of it. But now, it was ebbing away. It was still there; nothing but time and something else could truly make it go away. But it was manageable.
In the time it had taken him to come to that opinion, Teddy’s face had become scrunched and contorted. The small nose wrinkled as if in distaste; his forehead creased. His tiny fists swung in the air as his face turned a bright red. His mouth twisted and he let out a long howl.
Harry could only stare at the bawling boy. He had no idea what to do. He stood, rooted to the spot as Teddy’s cries grew louder and higher. The door swung open, casting a shadow across the floor and frightening the small stars into a frenzy.
Andromeda burst into the room. She took one look at the frozen Harry and hurried over to the crib. She picked up Teddy, cradling him in her arms.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, soothing him with a gentle swaying.
“I’m sorry,” said Harry, a note of panic in his voice, which had come out louder than he had wanted and somewhat cracked.
“It’s okay,” she said to him, in the same voice she had spoken with to Teddy. She never took her eyes off the child in her arms.
Harry watched her silently for a moment. Teddy’s eyes fluttered, his fists loosened. He had long since grown silent. His wide eyes grew into the shape of saucers as he settled into the shape of Andromeda’s arm, his head leaning against her. But he never closed his eyes. He watched everything. Harry had the strangest fear that Teddy could hear everything, or at least understand the things that weren’t said aloud.
“Can you do this?’ he said suddenly. Andromeda looked up at him for the first time. Her eyes were weary again. Her expression, if he hadn’t known better, was almost like a mixture of pity and understanding. As if there was a connection they shared, as if they had something in common. But there wasn’t. She had done nothing wrong. And she was the one who lost everything.
“Do what?” she asked quietly, her eyes returning to Teddy, who was now clutching the front of her shirt.
“This.” Harry gestured about the room. “How can you do this? How can you do this alone? Are you okay? Taking care of him by yourself?”
Andromeda smiled resignedly. “Harry,” she said with a sigh. “I couldn’t do it without him. He’s all I have left. He’s everything I ever had.”
Harry felt his chest swell as he stared at her. She pressed her nose to Teddy’s. “Would you like to hold him?” she asked, her nose still on Teddy’s, who was giggling now.
Harry stuttered. “I- I- I can’t. I don’t know how.”
Andromeda turned to him. “It’s easy.” She held Teddy out to the boy in front of her. “Just let happen. You’ll find it’s easier than anything you’ve ever done.”
Harry took the boy in his two hands, holding him away from his body awkwardly.
Andromeda smiled lightly. “Take your hand and put on under his head. Yes, that’s it,” she said as Harry followed her instructions. His arm naturally curled so that he was supporting the tiny baby under its head and bottom. He glanced down at the life in his arms.
He suddenly felt more nervous, more frightened then ever before. This was a completely different fear than facing Voldemort. It was much deeper and it scared him more.
“Take him back,” he said sharply, thrusting the baby back into Andromeda’s arms. “Take him back.”
“Harry,” she stepped towards him.
“No,” he said, inching towards the door. “I- I have to go. I- I can’t-” He threw himself through the door. He made his way to the door that led outside.
Andromeda followed him, Teddy in his arms. But the closer the baby came, the faster Harry moved. He made his way outside, throwing himself onto the step. He turned, saw Andromeda, saw her mouth about to open, saw the same worried face he saw on Hermione everyday, and with a crack, Disapparated.
He fell forward on the grass in his park. No one was there. No one was ever at a rusted, dangerous place like that. He buried his face in the green, breathing in the dirt and clover. He couldn’t control the tears that were running down his face and he couldn’t stop them either. He lay there for a while; hiccupping, until the water dried and his body stopped shaking. He turned over, his face to the sky and watched the sky pass him by.
He was vaguely aware of the sky turning colors, of the wind growing colder. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the figure that sat on the bench lay down his newspaper for the night. He heard the footsteps of the others that slept there pass his head; they never stayed in that part of the park.
He stayed like that for a long time; until the sky turned a strange purple black and the stars that had blinded him at first began to grow dim and boring. Then he stood up and brushed himself off.
“Good,” said the man with his head in the Daily News. “You’re going back early tonight. Go to sleep. You don’t need to be out here like the rest of us.”
Harry snorted as he made his way to a good spot to Disapparate from. Sleep , he thought. Yeah, right. The second he slipped onto his bed the pain would start shooting through his nerves. And visions would flash on the back of his eyelids.
The man on the bench smiled at the loud crack. He was right, and he knew it. He was always right.
And so Harry was rather surprised to find that when he got home and stumbled his way up the stairs, past Ron’s now occupied room, and into his bed, that the pain was less this time. That it hurt just a little differently, not in waves put in sharp little stabs that would throb for a while awkwardly in that empty space in his chest and through his body. He was surprised that it went away just a little sooner. That it came in brief periods and in a while, it was almost gone completely; hidden beneath the surface. And he was wrong about one more thing.
That night, the nightmares didn’t come.
Teddy's Gift by SiriusRadcliffe
Chapter Notes: Author's Notes:
It's finally here!!! It's SiriusBlack1113's fault for not getting it in as fast as she was supposed to, but you can't really blame her because the second half, in my opinion, rocks. She's sitting ten feet away from me and says to thank all of the enthusiastic reviewers for their encouraging reactions. I second that. Enjoy!
Miss Radcliffe~