His parents were dead. There was no denying it and there was no point in doing so because it was true. There was also no sugarcoating it. His parents were soldiers who fought in the war and simply were not lucky enough to survive.

Harry had told him when he was at the young age of four, wanting him to know that his parents had paid the ultimate price for their newborn son.

At the time, Teddy had nodded his head and accepted it. He never needed parents and he never knew them. Besides, Harry and his grandmother was his whole world. Harry who treated him like a son, and his grandmother who had enough love for him to drown the world.

He had never known how to react when he heard about his parents either. Friends of his parents had told him of his parent's appearances and stories.

He knew his father was an intelligent and kind man with the heart of a Gryffindor. He knew his mother was an enthusiastic and caring woman. He knew his father was a werewolf and his mother was a metamorphmagus. He knew a lot about his parents. He could describe them to someone else, but it was like someone telling you about a stranger. It just was not the same as actually knowing his parents.

He knew what their favourite food was and what hand they held their wand in, but he did not know the things that mattered. He did not know how his mother's food tasted like or what it felt to play quidditch with his father. All he knew were facts about them, but he did not know them.

So he lived his life without parents. Grew up without them too.

But somewhere along the way, something changed. He did not know when, but it happened. He missed his parents. And by all means, he did not understand how he could miss someone he never knew, let alone two of them.

But here he was. And maybe it was stupid, but he missed them so much.

He blinked, trying to keep his tears from falling. But one drop managed to escape capture and rolled freely down his cheek. He raised his sleeve to wipe it away.

"Teddy, it's time to go." Harry said, his voice soft and soothing like the wind.

He looked one last time at the green blades of glass that went on like an endless carpet and the stone that had been carefully hand carved. Each letter engraved with care.

"Okay." he said and placed his small hand in Harry's outstretched hand. Together they turned and walked away from the graves of his parents.

In his mind, he grieved.

He grieved for the lives of his parents. He grieved for the life he could have had.

He grieved, but he also cherished. It was because of them that he could live in the world he did. They died so that he could live. They sacrificed everything they had for someone they had not even gotten to spend time with. They had done it because they thought it was worth it. That he was worth it.

So he would remember. He would remember the little things people told him about his parents. He would remember each photo he saw of them. He would remember that they were heroes.

But most importantly, he would remember that they loved him.

A/N: Just a small tribute for remembrance day to all those who fought and served.