Proglogue

Harry Potter woke from a fitful sleep to the sound of crickets coming through the window of Ron's attic bedroom. The cool summer breeze was blowing in, making the normally musty room smell sweet and cool. Harry was so full of energy; it seemed to buzz through him. No matter how hard he tried, sleep simply wouldn't come. He hopped out of his camp bed and padded softly out of the room, remaining unheard over Ron's small whimpers.

It had been two weeks since Voldemort had fallen -- two weeks since Harry had faced death and managed to come out the other end. It had been two weeks, and the world was finally beginning to seem livable. The Burrow had become the center of life and function for most of Harry's loved ones. The physically injured were recovering there, while those who sustained injuries less visible seemed drawn there for rejuvenation. Besides Bill and Fleur, who found comfort in the honeymoon they never had, all of the surviving Weasleys, Harry and Hermione had taken up residence at the Burrow.

Harry walked slowly across the dark living room, careful not to tread too heavily on the creaking floor. He lit a few candles to better illuminate his path, and made his way to a small alcove tucked in the back of the room. The night's breeze was blowing a series of blankets strung from the ceiling, each a different color, but all covered in shimmering gold stars. Harry pulled back the blankets, and summoned a chair.

He wasn't worried about not sleeping, there didn't seem to be much point. Harry was just thrilled to smell the summer air, and Mrs. Weasley's cooking that always lingered at the Burrow. The flowery scent of Ginny kept him awake often, as he dreamed of all the things they could do now.

Harry finally felt at home in the world, like he belonged there without pretense. There were no wars to fight, no trials to overcome, and no goals to seek. He just had to remember the fallen, and live for the present. It was so liberating, but Harry didn't feel like climbing mountains or shouting from the rooftops. He just wanted to sit, maybe listen to a decent quidditch game, and watch the days whither away with Ginny.

"You can't sleep either, huh?" said Harry to the inhabitant of a small crib. The little boy cooed and giggled as if trying to answer the question posed to him, and grabbed at Harry's fingers as he ran them across the crib's railing. Harry contented himself by staring into the familiar warm eyes of the child who playfully squeezed his Godfather's fingers. Teddy Lupin had already begun metamorphosing, and was currently finding it highly entertaining to mimic Harry's hair. He was flashing from sandy blonde to wild and black, looking very pleased with himself. Harry laughed at this little show and could have sworn he saw an expression so like Tonks that Teddy could have been channeling her spirit.

Harry found himself grateful for the distraction that Teddy offered him. The last two weeks had been a way of dealing with the bittersweet end to a trying period of time. Coming downstairs to rock peacefully at the side of Teddy's crib was a good escape from the rest of the world, even if it was only a makeshift nursery on the edge of a crowded living room.

Teddy was going to be taken care of by Andromeda, his grandmother, when she was ready. But she needed a little more time to mourn her husband and daughter in her own way, and Mrs.Weasley gladly took him. Harry had vowed the moment the baby was brought to the Burrow that he would make sure Teddy never felt alone or unloved, that he never felt like a true orphan. Harry was his godfather after all.

"You know, I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop," Harry whispered as Teddy continued to wriggle in his bed. " I mean, I know it's not all sunshine and daisies. I don't think George has so much as spoken to anyone. Arthur and Molly can only stare blankly over the heads of their children, as if expecting Fred to walk through the front door at any moment. Ginny is doing okay, but I just can't bear that sad look in her eyes. I know there's something rough going on between Ron and Hermione, but they won't even talk to me!" Harry's voice became strained as he began to choke on his words, forcing him to realize that he was losing control. Teddy had stilled and stared unphased up at Harry.

"I'm sorry, you probably don't even know what I'm saying," Harry smirked, smoothing out the black hair currently populating the top of Teddy's head. Harry took his wand and levitated a sparkling paper bird around the boy, causing him to erupt in happy squeals that brought a smile to Harry's face. The respite didn't last long, however, as Harry plopped back into the chair he had summoned and looked at the starry sky through the large picture window.

"Why did so many have to die? I can't help but wonder if I could have done something differently, something to save them all…To save your mom and dad," Harry finished, watching Teddy's hair change to pink. "But I'll take care of you. For starters, let's get me to shut up and get you back to sleep."

Harry tried to remember how Mrs. Weasley had shown him to calm Teddy, and after some pacing, bouncing, and a little embarrassing cooing the child fell into a quiet sleep. Harry placed him back into his crib and covered him.

"Fancy a fly?" a whispering voice asked from behind him.

"At this time of night?" asked Harry incredulously as he turned to face Ginny.

"Shh!" she admonished, gesturing toward Teddy. "Well, apparently neither of us can sleep. We might as well wear ourselves out for a bit." Ginny turned with a wink as she stepped through the door. And Harry couldn't help but follow his girlfriend outside.