Chapter One: A Final Goodbye?

I can picture exactly how he'd look if he were sitting beside me today. His ankles would be crossed, legs together so his knees would almost touch, hands clasped loosely in his lap, shoulders slightly hunched, head down, mousy brown hair hanging in his eyes as he stared thoughtfully at the ground.

I know what he would say if he were here. He would look up, eyes squinted towards the cloudy sky, and say, "It's quite dreary for a May morning. Pity." Then he'd turn his face towards me just enough so I could see his small smile and the wink he'd undoubtedly offer.

But he's not here. Well he is here. But he's not. He's the reason I'm sitting on a hard chair made of dead wood in the dead backyard owned by his dead wife's dead mother. Everything here is dead: the trees refuse to bud, the sun hasn't shown in days, and even the wind won't blow above a whisper. Everything is dead. Including him.

The baby stirs in my arms. He squirms just enough to put his plump little face further into the crook of my arm to protect himself from the breeze. I guess not everything is dead. I still have Teddy. But even he doesn't seem real; how could I possibly be the one left to care for him? I bring Teddy closer to me, giving him the only thing I can right now: my body heat. As I look down at him, the buzz of negative thoughts in my head quiets enough so I can hear his soft snore, which is likely brought on by the unseasonable yet appropriate frost that has covered the ground every morning for the past two weeks, including this one. Two weeks ago… no, I can't even go there. Not now.

I place a quick kiss on Teddy's soft brown hair and try to focus on something other than his father's absence. Ha, that's almost funny—it's pretty hard to forget where he is. He's in the coffin to my left. Tonks is in the one to the right. Can her hair color still change?… I shake my head vigorously and try to erase the image of her inside her black box. Fuck, fuck, fuck, get out, get out! Find something else, anything else, to focus on.

For the first time this morning, I look up at the black podium not fifteen feet before me. I know from experience that if I stare hard enough at the Ministry of Magic emblem on the podium's face, the black clad figure standing behind it and the lifeless trees behind him will blur. This optical game kept me occupied at all of the other funerals I've been to in the past ten days. I can't bear listening to another speech unless it's Harry's. I want to listen to Harry, I do, but I also need to pay attention to him because he's the queue for my turn up there. Oh Merlin, don't think about that yet.

I start counting seconds. After 216 of them, Kingsley Shacklebolt finally steps down from the podium. Although I'm sure he spoke with his usual elegance, no one has the heart to applaud him. I'm still staring at the Ministry "M," but in my peripheral vision I can see him walking away from the podium toward the aisle that separates the two sections of black, wooden chairs. Suddenly he's standing beside me; he slowly reaches out an enormous, calloused hand and places it with surprising gentleness on my right shoulder. He gives it a soft squeeze before moving Teddy's blanket a fraction to see the infant's face. Teddy objects with a soft whine and retreats even further beneath my chest. Kingsley give a quiet, sad chuckle, pats my arm, and continues down the aisle to his seat. We're sitting on Remus's side although I'd rather be sitting directly in the middle of the aisle to show how much I detest having to choose a side like I'm at a wedding. Bride or groom's side, deary? The best I could do was sitting in the rightmost chair of the left side's front row. Harry sits at my left, Ginny beside him, Ron and Hermione next to her. Since sitting down an hour ago, I hadn't bother to notice who else was sitting around me. I wonder where he's sitting….

I'm jolted out of my thoughts when I feel Harry frantically grab for my hand. His fingers move quickly to find mine. He squeezes them so hard that it's clear how frightened he is of doing this, of speaking at his godson's father's funeral, of facing the final memorial of Hogwarts' lost fighters. This is the first time I've physically felt his anxiety; I know how hard he's been trying to stay strong and calm for me, for Teddy, for Ginny, for everyone. I hold onto his hand for an extra second, tugging gently so he's forced to look at my face. I take a deep, steady breath and tell him, "Get moving, mate. We're in desperate need of tea and there are mugs inside with our names on them."

I've caught him off guard, and that makes him give a short laugh. He leans over to embrace me with his godson tucked between us. Teddy coos in his sleep, and Harry looks down at him and smiles. He brushes his palm over Teddy's hair. I watch him take his own steadying breath. As he stands, Ginny grabs his arm and offers a supportive squeeze. Harry looks back at her, stares in her eyes, then turns towards the podium. He walks slowly but he's looking straight ahead. I know he doesn't want to look weak; he's doing a damn good job of appearing composed in the face of adversity, in usual Harry fashion. He looks much stronger than I feel, that's for bloody sure.

I look down at Teddy. I am so thankful he won't remember any of this—the gloomy atmosphere, the tears, the somber faces. When he hears about his parents, I will make sure it is very different from this. The storytellers will be smiling, laughing, sharing warm memories.

"I don't feel prepared to do this," Harry announces with a sigh as he faces the gathered mourners. "I don't know how I could be. Acknowledging the loss of these two incredible people, well, quite honestly, it makes all of this real. I'll never have another chance to ask Tonks about becoming an Auror. I won't hear another of Remus's stories about his life, or Sirius, or my dad. I'm not ready to say goodbye to Remus and Tonks: two people who taught me so much about perseverance, humility, and allowing yourself to tell outrageous jokes in a quiet room." Several people laugh quietly. I'm finding it hard to breathe. I see Harry share a quick smile until he catches my eye. He continues, "I heard someone great say it is a weakness not to recognize that there are things much worse than death. I intend to make sure Remus and Tonks' son never has to know those things. We will always have memories of the people we've lost in this war; maybe those are the gifts we can give each other in the times to come."

Harry lets out a breath heavily as he comes back to the chairs. He stops beside me, just like Kingsley and the other two speakers did, although I can't remember who those others were. He bends his knees and cocks his head so he is at my eye level. His eyes search mine for a moment. He takes hold of my upper left arm and I wince from the cramp I've developed from holding Teddy for so long in one position. He rubs my arm gently.

I whisper, "You were amazing up there."

He replies, "Thanks," but I know he doesn't think he did well. I can feel his hand shake in its resting place on my bicep.

Ginny leans over and takes Harry's hand. She kisses it and silently urges Harry to sit down. I nod, trying to communicate that he has done his part and he needs a break. Harry settles beside me and I hear Ginny talking him down. Bugger. I know I can't give the baby to either of them. Ron and Hermione are speaking quietly together, too. I start to look around for someone who can hold Teddy. I feel a hand rest between my shoulder blades, a small, delicate hand. I turn to see Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom sitting directly behind me.

Luna smiles sweetly, holding her arms out to me. I mouth the words thank you as I hand Teddy to her. I know she will be very caring toward Teddy, but I can't help but feel a little empty without the warm, small body in my hands. Neville touches my wrist gently. "Go on, Vera," he says kindly.

"Right," I say, more to convince myself than anyone else that I'm equipped to give a eulogy for the two people who were most like parents to me. This can't be happening. What if I mess up? What if I burst out crying and rambling like a lunatic and someone has to drag me off the podium? Okay, you're exaggerating. I take a few steps towards Remus's coffin. They are shaky, slow steps, but steps forward nonetheless. Just thank your bloody stars you haven't passed out yet. That only happened once, thank you very much, and given the stress of Fred's funeral, I'm lucky I didn't have a stroke. How do I shut up the goddamn internal dialogue?! I really am going crazy.

I am standing behind the podium, looking down at the black dress shoes that I borrowed from Tonk's closet. A mix of emotions related to that pilfering session swirls in my chest. It's even harder to breath up here. Before I can start thinking of what Tonks would say to me about wearing her clothes, I look up sharply and see the congregation. My eyes, however, land only on one person: Charlie Weasley. He sits two seats down from Neville. I should have known he wouldn't have sat far away—of course he would have kept me in sight. He's making eye contact with me; he purposefully pats the middle of his broad chest with a scarred hand. I remember to take a breath—the pressure that's built there lessens just a bit. Remember to thank him later for that. Shit. It's now or never. I know I won't be able to look at anyone but Charlie and not completely lose it.

I begin,"I want to thank you all for being here with Harry, Teddy, and I today. The support you've given to us has helped us get by. Just so you know, I will likely make good on some of your offers of free babysitting." I hear some quiet laughter, but I don't dare search for those good-natured souls. I force myself to stay present: I focus on the dark grey sweater Charlie is wearing. It's fraying slightly near the collar on one side. I told him I would fix it before the service, but Teddy was so fussy that I didn't have time. "But more importantly," I say, "I need to thank the couple we are here to remember because I owe them far more than I can say." Charlie is nodding ever so slightly, his hand still resting on his chest.

I continue, "Remus, when I met you, you were my fifth year Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. After our first class, you invited me to your office for tea. You hardly knew me and yet, in that moment, I felt that perhaps you knew me all too well. Thank you for taking the time to ask me questions about my past and my future, for encouraging me to dream bigger than I thought I could, for teaching me patience and trust." My breath hitches so forcefully that it sounds like a hiccup. I stare unblinkingly at Charlie and keep going. "Thank you for trusting yourself enough to mentor me these four years, and to treat me like a daughter. I promise to take care of Teddy. I promise." I feel a tear slip down my cheek. I try to ignore it but my whole body is shivering. I know well enough by Charlie's expression that he's trying not to cry.

"Tonks, where do I begin? I can't know how it feels to have a sister, but you are, were, my confidante, friend, and constant pick-me-up. Thank you for every laugh, every late-night conversation, every reassurance. You gave Remus so much hope and belief in himself, and that means the world to me. Thank you for proving to him that he was capable of being a wonderful husband and father. Thank you for bringing Teddy into the world. Even if I don't understand it now, thank you for entrusting him to me." Two more tears slide down my face. I brush them away. "I wish you both could see him grow… Maybe you will from where you are."

I step backwards as people leave their seats to pay respect to the coffins. I immediately drop my head and allow myself to cry, to really cry, for the first time since the final battle ended. I turn away from the podium, from Remus and Tonks, from everyone; I don't want to be seen but I'm unsure of how well my legs might cooperate. I want to hide away and cry until I black out. I cover my face with my hands as huge, loud sobs escape from my throat. My knees feel so unsteady that I'm sure I will drop to the ground any second. Just as my legs begin to falter, a pair of strong arms encircles me. A large, warm hand threads through the hair at the back of my head, pulling my face towards a dark grey sweater. I collapse onto a broad, hard chest. My vision fades until everything is fuzzy, distant, and dim. I can only see the frayed collar just beyond my eyelashes.

"Just let go," Charlie whispers in my ear. I do. Everything becomes as dark as his sweater.