Teddy stares up at the silver orb in the sky. It stares back, unfeeling, nothing but a dusty sphere in space. Funny how one dusty sphere in space can turn a life upside down. Teddy never knew who his dad was. Teddy never knew who his mum was either. All he knows is that on nights where the moon shines the fullest, the brightest, his heart aches for them.
He sneaks out of his dormitory and slips down to the Whomping Willow. The Willow has never stopped him and never will because it was planted for his kin, for his blood. He follows the path that he knew his dad took, all those many nights ago and he fancies he feels his caress, feels his warm breath against his face. He thinks he can feel his mum too, but he knows that it isn't true. Mum didn't even know about the tunnel until dad told her years later.
He doesn't need to fumble with a lock like his dad used to, doesn't need to sit and wait for the pain to come. He carries it with him everyday, in varying degrees. On nights like these, he knows he will never know his parents and his parents will never know him. They exist in this world like an exhalation of air, here, but not here, not really. He's seen photos of them. He knows their faces so well he can become his father or his mother in a heartbeat although he did give Harry quite a fright when he tried the latter one summer's night.
He knows that his parents are watching over him, and most days, that's enough. But tonight, as the full moon shines down and illuminates the quiet of Hogsmeade, as the werewolves howl in the distance, as a fleeting shadow of a cloud flutter pasts and dims the light, Teddy Lupin wishes that they didn't.
He'd rather they be beside him.