After The War

by everyoneisking

Harry never thought he could be happy again after the war. Teddy proved him wrong. Harry/Teddy WARNING: Character death. Anyone who may be sensitive might want to turn back now.

A/N: This was never supposed to have a happy ending. I do really enjoy the Harry/Teddy ship when things do end up nicely, but this particular story was supposed to be a sad one. Hope you enjoy, and maybe leave a review?

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I could publish my slash as canon and my life would be complete.

INFANCY

Harry Potter brushed the hair out of his face, noticeably marked with grief. The battle was over, done. Voldemort was gone, though his followers still ran rampant, either to flee or to regather their strength. Harry found himself unable to care at the moment.

He had attended the funerals, listened to the anguished cries of those around him, and heard the traditional Wizarding funeral vows a hundred times over. The first funeral had been for Fred. Harry was sure that there had been small private funerals much before, with only the cries of the family to punctuate the air, but for Harry, Fred was the most pressing.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been shells of the warm, parental figures that had comforted him throughout his childhood; Arthur's face devoid of its usual mischievous smile or the constant look of childlike wonder he held whenever Harry explained something new about Muggles to him.

His eyes blank, his mouth tight, he held his wife tight, but was unable to speak even a word to comfort her. Her wracking sobs almost drowned out the funeral vows, which would set Fred's soul at rest, and the remainder of the Weasley family stood tall, a mask of strength for their grieving mother.

Ron stood with his arms around Hermione and Ginny, a girl either side of him, silent tears running down his face unashamedly. Bill and Charlie, the eldest, stood valiantly and carried the coffin with their wands, a custom which Harry was yet to see until he attended Fred's funeral.

He supposed, amidst his grief, that it would have been silly to assume they would do it the Muggle way. Percy stood awkwardly to the side, away from the family. Harry supposed that he would not have been welcome, nor would he have felt comfortable. To his credit, Harry had never seen him look more distraught.

By far the worst part of the funeral, worse than the fresh, raw experience of grieving for a loved one in such a public arena, worse than seeing the hundreds of witches and wizards who had abandoned their own grievances for the day to come to say farewell to a beloved Weasley, and even worse than the gnawing pain of guilt in his stomach, was seeing George.

He had attempted to lay his brother to rest, but halfway through the ceremony, his face twisted in agony, he had Apparated away with a loud crack, shocking his mother into more tears and had disappeared for a week. Harry had not attempted to follow him, though he knew he could have traced the magic if he had truly wished to. He persuaded Ron not to follow as well, knowing that George would need the space.

And he had been right. When George reappeared at the Burrow to cries of delight, he looked dishevelled and heartbroken, but somehow better than he had at the funeral. He would survive, Harry knew then. Hundreds more funerals followed. Colin Creevey, the Patil sisters, Filch, Terry Boot, Mad-Eye Moody, Zacharias Smith, Snape, Remus and Tonks.

The last was the hardest for Harry to come to terms with. Remus had been like a father to him since Sirius had died; and now he was gone too. He and Tonks had died together in battle, killed by the Carrows, he had been told. He had come back to the Great Hall to find their bodies lying together in a gruesome peace after disposing of Voldemort's body - he and the rest of the Order had burnt it in the Forbidden Forest, and buried the ashes far beneath Aragog's once nest, still crawling with the remnants of his large family. Hagrid had persuaded them to step aside for the party, though they were not happy about it.

Nearly the entire Wizarding population had arrived to set Remus and Tonks to rest; they were buried together. Witches and wizards he had never seen before in his life filled the cemetery recently constructed nearby Shell Cottage, some in crimson Ministry robes, some in Auror's robes, some the poorest looking people you would ever see.

Harry had led the Order in setting their coffins into the ground, a ceremony which had provoked much sorrow within the crowd. Afterwards, Harry had consoled himself with mass amounts of Firewhiskey - a comfort he had avoided up until then.

Harry had also made sure that Severus Snape was given a hero's funeral, though not nearly as many mourners arrived to share their respects as with any of the other funerals. Many still saw the man as a traitor, though Harry would make it his life's mission if need be to clear his name.

At the moment, however, Harry was sat in Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur, watching little Victoire suckle at her mother's breast hungrily. Normally he would have felt awkward, but there was so little life amongst the waves of death around him that he welcomed any sight of normality.

"Harry. Are you listening?" asked Bill gently, peering into Harry's face. He jumped slightly, a reflex from living on the run for so long, and nodded, his face weary.

"Sorry Bill, I am. I just got lost in my thoughts a little there," he apologised, pulling his mind back to the discussion at hand. Bill was head of the Order now that Dumbledore had died, and though Harry insisted he wanted nothing to do with the after effects of the war, he was still asked for advice daily. Bill was no exception.

He knew they looked up to him, though it still baffled him at times. He had no desire to follow Ron into the Auror traineeship any longer; he wanted a quiet life. That was a little hard when he still had to face his part in rebuilding the Wizarding world.

"Listen, Harry, I know you probably don't want to think about it right now, but we have to talk about Teddy," Bill said, his face lined with the same weariness that seemed to have overtaken even the youngest of children's faces now.

Harry had known that this subject was coming; as much as he had put it off for the first few weeks, he knew that one day he would need to face it. And it seemed that day had come.

"I'm the boy's godfather. I'll be taking him," he said firmly, expecting a fight. None came. Bill smiled, his scarred face resembling some of the joyous Weasley charm which Harry used to see in abundance. Victoire mewled in the corner as Fleur weaned her from her breast and settled her in her highchair.

"I had hoped you'd say that Harry. Andromeda's been looking after for him for now, but she's an old woman, and she's just lost her daughter and her husband," Bill explained, his face looking noticeably more relieved. Harry understood. He had always intended to bring up Teddy; seeing Remus' ghost from the Resurrection Stone affirmed that intention even more. He would not allow his godson to not know his parents.

"I can take him this week, if you like. Hermione can help me set up a nursery in Grimmauld Place," he offered, suddenly wanting to the wheels of motion to spin as quickly as his heart was beating. Bill agreed, and ended the talk about obligation and rebuilding, allowing Harry a respite in the form of Victoire; he had grown close to the baby in the weeks following the battle, delighting in her innocence.

The next few days passed quickly; Harry had enlisted Hermione and Ginny's help to transform the dank quarters of Grimmauld Place (his home now, he supposed) into a suitable nursery for Teddy. Hermione thought it very apt for there to be wolves on the wallpaper, as was the Muggle custom.

Ginny could not fathom the bizarre tradition of cutesy animals upon the walls of a child's room, more accustomed to the moving photos of the family to watch over the baby as was the Wizarding custom.

"Harry, are you sure you're not taking on too much? You don't have to take Teddy, you know. Molly would be quite happy to have him," Hermione had said, placing a hand on his arm. He smiled at her, knowing that she would never understand the obligation he had, nor the love he already felt for the child.

"Mione, he's my godson. Remus' son. Of course he's mine to take. And to be honest, he's all I want right now," Harry had answered, his soft smile reassuring Hermione. He had grown quiet and solemn since the battle, an effect Hermione had thought would wear off when things began to sink back into normality, but it seemed permanent.

Ginny was flittering about the scene, delighted to be asked to help, though Harry had a hunch that her true intentions were not simply to help out Teddy. He had skilfully avoided her for weeks after the Battle, seeing her only when he needed to visit the Burrow, and even then, he had managed to pawn her off every time she tried to speak with him.

He supposed that he should not have been so harsh with her; that she deserved better than he was treating her. But amongst his smothering grief, he could not find it in himself to crush her.

The truth was, that he had loved her, once. Before the previous year, when they were still children. Though only 18 now, Harry was no longer a child. He knew that, as did everyone around him. Ginny was a young woman, a marvellously beautiful and intelligent young woman, but he felt nothing for her but a brotherly love. His childlike fantasies from sixth year had dissipated during his time spent huddled in the woods, terrified but unable to retreat.

Hermione had already guessed Harry's feelings, though she seemed to be the only one. Everyone else around him appeared to be waiting for him to propose. Ginny included. Hermione was adamant that Harry should tell her how he felt, and he supposed he should. Just not yet.

Saying goodbye to the two women who Apparated back to the Burrow where they were both staying, Harry looked around the nursery. It was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. The walls were a light blue; the colour Tonks' hair had often taken on when she was still pregnant with Teddy, covered with enchanted little wolves which prowled playfully around the crib and fought with each other for Teddy's amusement. Hermione had cast the charm; Harry sometimes wondered where she obtained the plethora of spells she seemed to have on hand.

The rest of Grimmauld Place had been restored as well, bar the few flights upstairs where no one had been in years, except Kreacher. The house was light and airy now; it barely resembled the dark, musty headquarters they had hidden in for so long.

Harry walked about it wistfully sometimes, often thinking that Sirius would have loved it here if someone had thought to do this any sooner. Using magic, it took less time than it had to clean it room by room.

Feeling a particular tug at his heartstrings he had come to know well as the pull to see Teddy, Harry Apparated to the small house which his godson and Andromeda had been set up in since the beginning of Voldemort's second reign.

The house was falling apart now, the strong protection charms still in place. Harry penetrated them easily; they had been modified to let him through at any time. Wincing at the state of the place, Harry made an internal vow to set it to rights, not only for Andromeda but for Remus and Tonks as well. They had stayed here for a few weeks with Teddy before they had … Well. Harry added it to the list of vows he had taken to help the people he loved.

"Harry, dear!" cried Andromeda, rushing out of the house to greet him. The woman was in her late fifties, still a beauty even in her age. Her smile was brighter than anyone's these days, despite the amount she had lost. He smiled and hugged her, glad for her cheeriness.

"Hi, Andromeda. How's everything?" he asked, the customary greeting now. It seemed inappropriate to ask how someone was, for they would be lying if they said anything other than broken, for everyone seemed to be. Andromeda laughed and gave him a look.

They had come to the agreement that neither would inquire as to the other's well-being, and that would suit them both fine. Andromeda had never been a slave to social niceties, and Harry found himself tired of them. The hundreds of expressions of condolence and congratulations were too much for him to take.

"How's my boy?" Harry asked, following the elder woman into the house. He was surprised at how much he felt for the baby, but having seen him several times since the battle, he had become attached. The boy had inherited his mother's gifts, but seemingly not his father's which both he and Andromeda were thankful for.

"He's doing fine today. Excited to see you," she answered, her tone saddening slightly. Harry knew that it would be hard for her to say goodbye to her grandson, no matter how many times she told herself that she would still see him regularly. Andromeda knew that her daughter and Remus would want Harry to have Teddy, but she did love the boy so.

Teddy heard Harry's voice and began to coo, lifting his arms up toward the older man standing above his crib, smiling. Andromeda marvelled at her grandson's ability to make Harry so happy. Bar his two best friends, the other two who were so incredibly young, nothing seemed to be able to crack Harry's cool exterior lately. Andromeda had barely left the house in the weeks following the battle, partly because she was still so afraid, though she knew that Voldemort was gone, and partly because she had a one year old to deal with.

But it seemed that outside, in the world, people were beginning to return to normal. She'd had word of weddings; hundreds of invitations were sent. It was almost as if she were back twenty years in time - following the end of the First War, hundreds of young people had married.

Herself and Ted among them. She brushed aside the thoughts of her late husband, knowing that inevitable tears would come, and she did not want to embarrass herself in front of Harry.

Harry picked the baby up and held him on his hip, already accustomed the instinctive fatherly pose. Andromeda had never known someone to become so adept at baby-whispering so quickly in her life. Even she had had months of horror with Nymphadora when she was a babe; but no, it wouldn't do to dwell upon that either.

Banishing her growing feelings, Andromeda busied herself with Teddy's bags, filled with his favourite toys, his blankets, and the few photos she had of his parents and grandfather. Harry was touched to find them sitting in the bag as he perused its contents curiously.

He assured her that would charm them to the walls of his nursery so that he would always have his family watching over him, even when Harry could not be there himself.

Harry Apparated back to Grimmauld Place with the heavy bags hung over his shoulder and Teddy in his arms. Just before he left, Andromeda caught a glimpse of the look of utter love on his face when he looked down at Teddy, and she knew that she had done the right thing in allowing him to take the boy.

TODDLER

As the months passed after Harry had taken Teddy, everyone around noticed the change. The weeks following the war had been hell, on everyone, but the hardest on Harry. He was coming to terms with the fact that he had killed Voldemort, he had saved the Wizarding World as was his fate, so many had told him. Now what was he to do with his life, he asked himself. Ironically, it had been Ginny who had worked it out for him.

"Harry. I understand. I mean, I'm not going to lie, of course I'm heartbroken. I've loved you since the moment I clapped eyes on you, but I'll move on. Really. What you need to think about right now is your life," she had said to him, following the moments after he had painfully stammered out that he was no longer in love with her.

He had been unbelievably relieved with her reaction, and was desperately happy that she understood that he still wanted to be a brother to her. He could never replace the one that she had lost (partly because of him) but he had hoped to fill some sort of void in her. He was just sad that it could not be the one she was hoping for.

"Ginny, I… I don't know what my life is. I always assumed I would die in the midst of all this. I'd had sort of silly dreams. But I never really thought they'd happen, and I don't want them anymore," he explained, hoping that she would understand better than Ron had when he had broken the news.

Ron's reaction was typically Weasley; his ears had gone red and his voice hoarse with the yelling. But eventually, after seeing the look in Harry's eyes which seemed to dim a little every time something went OK for him, he came around, and resigned himself to the fact that he and Harry would not be the invincible duo in the Auror training program as he had always dreamed.

"I know Harry. I saw the look on your face when you realised that you still had your life to live. I've never seen you look more lost," Ginny replied, placing a hand on his own. The gesture was affectionate, and Harry was glad to notice that it seemed purely out of sisterly love. But his spirits were dampened, and Ginny saw.

"Oh, but it's OK. You have Teddy now. I've never seen you look happier when you're with Teddy. Sometimes I think you love that little boy more than the rest of us put together," she joked, though a part of her meant it sincerely. She was certain that if need be, Harry would choose Teddy over anything.

Harry had smiled his first true smile since the battle had concluded, and Ginny was sure that he would be alright. However, at the moment, she was not so sure about herself.

"Oh for goodness sake," she cried, and pulled out her wand.

"Levicorpus," she cried, directing the spell at the hysterical toddler running around her legs. The little Teddy was frozen by the spell and hung up in the air upside down. For a moment his face dropped, as if he was thinking "Well, how did I get up here?" but then began to giggle and thrash around in the air happily.

Ginny looked around guiltily, as if she expected Harry to be lying in wait, and put her face very close to the toddler's.

"Now you listen to me Teddy. Aunty Ginny has had a long day and she just wants to sit down and relax. You can sit quietly and play with her or I can leave you hanging here all night and tell Daddy how you were naughty. Do you want that?" she asked gently, but firmly enough to impress upon the small boy that she meant business.

Teddy deliberated for a moment, still hanging upside down, and then shook his head vigorously. It seemed he had had enough of weightlessness. Ginny let him down softly and caught him in her arms.

The boy seemed no worse off for his reprimanding, still giggling, and sat on the couch quietly as instructed. Ginny felt guilty about using magic on him, as Harry had expressly forbidden it, but how else was she supposed to cope with a mental toddler after a long day at work?

She sat with Teddy for an hour more, playing little magic games with him, making his toys levitate, before Harry arrived home. As the fireplace lit up in green flames, Teddy cried "Daddy!" and raced towards the flame. Ginny had to hold him back so that he didn't go rushing off to wherever the Floo network saw fit, as she had done many times.

Harry beamed and rushed across the room to scoop the little boy in his arms, swinging him around happily. It looked eerily reminiscent of the Levicorpus she had cast earlier, which made Ginny blush a little in her guilt, but she held her tongue and prayed to Merlin that Teddy would too. Placing the boy back on the ground, Harry sank into the couch.

"Hi, Gin. Thanks for looking after him. How was he?" he asked, settling the boy on his lap where Teddy sat happily, quieter for Daddy than he had ever been for Aunty Ginny.

"Oh, he was fine. A little bit… lively. Whatever did you do before you left?" she asked, curious as to why the toddler she had babysat so many times was so worked up. Harry laughed, his face lighting up with delight that was so often on his face now.

"I may have given him some Whizzing Fizzbees," he admitted sheepishly, looking over at Ginny with a cheeky glint in his eyes, not dissimilar to the one Teddy often held.

"Harry!" she cried, whacking him playfully.

"Do you know how long it took to get him to calm down? You did that on purpose, didn't you?" she asked, outraged.

"I may have," he conceded, picking up Teddy and using him as a shield.

"Daddy, no! She'll magic me again!" Teddy cried, a smile still on his face. Ginny's heart sunk and Harry's face froze.

"Ginny. Did you use magic on my son?" he asked, deadly serious. Ginny sat in her chair, making herself as small and meek as possible.

"Maybe. But he was so out of control, Harry. I couldn't take it!" she explained, knowing that that was no excuse in Harry's eyes. Harry narrowed his eyes and launched into the usual lecture about magic on his son.

"Ginny, I don't know how many times I have told you, I do not want Teddy taking magic for granted, and I absolutely do not want him being controlled by it! He has enough of it as is.

Now, you know I love you and greatly appreciate you babysitting, but if you can't control him the Muggle way, I'll just have to stay home with him," Harry lectured, his tone serious, but the easy look in his eyes let her know that he was not really angry with her.

"I know, Harry. I'm sorry, it was a moment of weakness. I love Teddy, you know that. I'll be damned if you shut yourself in just to look after him," she protested defiantly, knowing how important it was for Harry to see Ron and Hermione, at least once a week.

She had a pretty busy schedule but her time with Teddy took up whatever time she had to date, and she was sure that that was the better option.

Harry relaxed and carried Teddy off to bed, leaving Ginny in the lounge room. Teddy protested loudly, but a whispered word from Harry in his ear and he was giggling madly and allowing himself to be carried off. Ginny marvelled, not for the first time, at the natural way Harry had with the boy.

He had raised him as his own son for two years now, and they had a bond which seemed unbreakable.

Harry was so happy now with Teddy that he barely resembled the shell of himself he had been in the first few months following the war. Ginny practically had to drag him out of the house to see his friends, and he was not happy leaving Teddy with anyone for months.

Finally Ginny had thrown one of her famous tantrums and threatened him with a now even more nicely honed Bat-Bogey Hex, and he conceded, going off to see Ron and Hermione.

Ginny insisted now that he see them every Friday night, but she did not need to anymore, really. He was happy enough to escape the house for even one night. Eventually he went out and saw his other friends too, when he had returned more to his normal self.

He was close friends with Neville now, who had turned out to be an incredibly talented Herbologist. Harry knew he had enjoyed the subject when they were at school together, but so far Neville had already been published in the field, and he was currently training to take over for Pomona Sprout when she retired.

Luna had also become one of Harry's best friends, apart from Ron and Hermione. She had taken over the role of editor of the Quibbler from her father, who had been among those who had been killed in the final battle.

She held her own funeral for him in their backyard, inviting no one but herself and Harry, Ron and Hermione. She had been quite distraught, and Harry had sought solace in her and comforted her when he retreated from his self-made prison of despair which Teddy had released him from.

"Gosh, he's hard to put down sometimes," Harry said softly, coming back down the stairs to startle Ginny from her reflections on his life. She smiled mischievously and replied

"Well, that's what you get for feeding him sweets all the time." Harry smiled, and settled down in the couch across from her, his face suddenly tired. He was still a young man - only twenty years old, but his face was marred with the lines of wartime, though that time has passed.

"So how was tonight? What was Mione's big news? I can't believe she invited you out but not me," Ginny asked, a little jealously. She knew that Mione would tell her almost immediately after telling Harry, but she and Hermione had become as close as sisters in these past three years, and there was little that they did not share with each other.

"God, you won't believe it. She's pregnant!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with joy for his friends. Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth and squealed, though not loudly enough to wake Teddy.

"Oh Merlin! This is so exciting! I'm going to have a niece!" she cried happily, bouncing in her seat. Harry's face scrunched up in confusion.

"What? You don't know that it'll be a girl," he said, obviously lost. Ginny giggled, looking much more like the schoolgirl he had known and not the young woman which sat before him.

"Oh, Mione and I cast this spell when I was in seventh year, to find out what sex your first baby will be, if you have them. It's supposed to be really unreliable but Hermione, being Mione, tweaked it so that it was sure to be accurate," she explained feverishly, her eyes alight with delight.

Harry thought incredulously about the silly things that young girls do that he would never understand before replying.

"Well, I guess we'll both be called on to babysit in a year or so. It'll be nice for Teddy to have someone other than Victoire to play with," he said thoughtfully, already planning play dates for the two. Ginny rolled her eyes internally - Teddy really was all Harry thought about.

"I bet Ron was happy, right? He's always wanted kids," Ginny said, thinking of how her brother had always concealed it, but he wanted a family as big as his own. Harry smiled at this as well, thinking on how happy Ron had been when he and Hermione had been married.

They had been one of the first couples to marry after the battle - one of many. Ron had joked that they were continuing his parents' tradition of marrying young, but Hermione was more nervous about it all. She had known that she would marry Ron one day; she just hadn't expected it to be so soon. However, when he proposed days after Fred's funeral, she said yes at once, sure that she would never have the chance again if she were to say no now.

They were the happiest couple that Harry had ever seen. Sometimes he imagined that his own parents would have been this happy, and lost himself in his grief all over again. But Teddy was always there to pull him back out.

"Oh, you should have seen his face, Gin. It was like he was the pregnant one - he was practically glowing!" Harry exclaimed. Ginny looked confused.

"Glowing? Why? He didn't cast another stupid spell on himself, did he?" she asked, sure that her brother's own stupidity had gotten him into trouble again. Harry laughed, remembering just how different he was to most wizards, a fact he was still being reminded of, even after having spent years in the Wizarding World.

"No, it's a Muggle expression. They say pregnant women have a glow about them. It just means they're happy," he explained, always happy to enlighten his friends about Muggles. Well, unless it was about the Dursleys, in which case he would never elaborate on anything to do with them. Ginny laughed, and Harry was reminded just how lively she was.

Quidditch had done a lot for her. She was one of the few who had never lost their spark, even after the battle, when so many had taken Harry's lead and retreated into themselves, wondering how and why they made it through the battle when so many had they loved had not.

Going back to Hogwarts with Hermione to complete their seventh year (Harry had opted not to, what with a baby to contend with, and Ron had entered the intense Auror training program), Ginny had graduated with more NEWTS than anyone had expected of her, and was immediately recruited to the Holyhead Harpies by Gwenog Jones herself, who had come to watch her win Gryffindor her final Quidditch Cup.

She had been playing professionally for a year now, working her way up through the ranks of the Quidditch ladder, but never allowing the extensive training get in the way of her family. She still lived at the Burrow, a sore spot for her, but she figured, her family needed her there, and she needed them.

"Oh, I can't wait to see him when she's born! You know, he might rival even you as a doting father. Ron was born for parenthood, as immature and stubborn as he is," Ginny proclaimed proudly, obviously more excited about the prospect of a new baby to dote upon than anything in her own personal life.

Harry had noticed that she never seemed to be seeing anyone, but did not want to pry, seeing as she might still hold a torch for him. He never really entertained this thought seriously; he wasn't so egomaniacal as to think she would never see anyone else just for him.

Discussing Ron and Hermione's impending daughter for another hour or so, Ginny and Harry sat in comfortable company with each other, as they had many nights before, being careful so as not to wake the sleeping boy upstairs.

Ginny finally took her leave at about midnight, seeing how tired Harry was, and Floo-ed back to the Burrow, figuring it was easier than Apparition at this time of night. Harry had nearly fallen asleep on the couch, after a long day entertaining his son and then receiving the amazing news of the night.

He staggered up to his bedroom, peeled off his clothes and climbed into bed, falling asleep instantly. He didn't even need his nightly Dreamless Sleep Draught Neville was kind enough to brew for him every month.

Months passed, and Teddy grew into an even more inquisitive little boy than he had ever been before. His fourth birthday rolled around, and Harry made certain that it was a big to-do, though he knew that he needn't have lifted a finger, as Molly adored his son almost as much as he did, and she took care of most of the arrangements.

They held it at the Burrow, where they could have more room, and to Molly's credit, it was the birthday party Harry had always dreamed of at the Dursley's, minus the magic. The yard was decorated beautifully with magical streamers that nipped playfully at the guests' feet and tried to yank them up, and the cake was big enough to feed an army, having been enchanted to look exactly like Teddy's favourite fairytale figure - funnily enough, Prince Charming.

The Weasleys and other pureblood Wizards had never heard of the Prince before, having been accustomed to their own fairytales, but Hermione, over her enormous belly, read all the guests several fairytales where he featured - Teddy's favourite had always been Sleeping Beauty.

As the guests, the majority of them Weasleys, though Neville, Luna, Dean and Seamus (who had also married after the war), and several of their other friends had attended as well, milled about the yard, playing with the many children that had been brought along to play with Teddy, Harry stood off to the side, watching his son play with Victoire and the many other children which had popped up over the years, he thought of Remus and Tonks, not for the first time recently. He must have had a slightly sorrowful look on his face, as Ron came to stand beside him.

"Hey mate, what's up?" he asked, concerned. He hadn't seen that sort of look on his best mate's face for years.

"Oh, nothing really. Just thinking of Remus. And Tonks too. They'd be so proud, wouldn't they?" Harry asked wistfully, still gazing at Teddy running about happily with the other children.

"Yeah, they would. And not just of their son. You've done a great job raising him, Harry," Ron said in a moment of unusual sincerity. He had been nothing but japes and laughs since Hermione had gotten pregnant.

Harry was sure that the couple would have bickered, especially with Mione's increased hormones, but he had never seen it. Perhaps Ron was smart enough to stay in her good books for the nine months. He turned to Ron, his eyes strangely watery.

"Thanks mate," was all he could muster and Ron suddenly wrapped his strong arms around Harry's still smaller frame. He had never quite grown out of the smallness for his age, while Ron had grown into a strapping young man.

"Jeez, what's with the lovefest over here?" came a voice from behind them, and the men turned to see Ginny and Hermione walking, and well, waddling toward them. Hermione hadn't been able to properly walk for months.

"Never you mind, nosy," Ron replied rudely, and Hermione swatted at him, though she was not nearly as mobile as she had been. Harry suspected Ron liked this slightly defenceless side of his wife. It sure guaranteed a lot less violence for him.

"You alright, Harry?" asked Hermione, her eyes looking a lot more concerned than her tone portrayed.

"I'm fine guys, really. Just a little sad. It's getting to that time of year, you know. We all get a bit sadder," he defended himself. They seemed reassured, and left him to watch the children for a little while longer.

Teddy came running to him not long after.

"Daddy, Daddy, look!" he cried, jumping into his father's lap, brandishing a floppy red wand in front of his face. Harry recognised it as one of George's fake wands, the sort he had been selling to Honeydukes for a few years now. They were undeniably delicious.

"Oh, would you look at that?" Harry said, and in one swift moment, bit the end off the wand, never able to resist them. Teddy's mouth formed a perfect O before he whacked Harry with the rest of the lolly wand.

"That was my birthday treat Daddy!" he cried, not really upset. Harry laughed and scooped him up, something he still loved, even though the other children had grown out of it at four.

"Well, we'll just have to find you another, won't we?" he said, carrying the birthday boy to the centre of the party, where Ron discreetly handed him his previously wrapped present.

"Now that you are a whole four years old, Teddy, I think you are ready for your present from me," he said, making a show of the unveiling, knowing Teddy loved the attention, almost as much as he had always hated it.

Teddy squealed with excitement and ripped away the paper from the gift. He almost became speechless when he realised that it was his first toy broomstick. The boy had been begging Harry for one since he had turned three, but Ginny and Hermione almost threw a fit when he came close to acquiescing. He and Ron didn't see what was so wrong with it - Ron had been flying since he knew how to walk, but Harry had agreed to wait until Teddy was four.

"Oh Merlin! A broomstick! I want to fly now!" cried Teddy happily, tearing through the brown paper surrounding the broom, which had been charmed so that it would not hover any higher than a few feet. The other children, Victoire among them, watched on with a mix of childlike jealousy and glee.

Teddy stood next to the broom as Harry had taught him, said "up" as clearly as Harry had when he'd tried it at 11, and the small broom flew into his hand. Mounting the tiny thing, he kicked off a little harder than necessary in his excitement and successfully hovered with perfect balance for a full 10 seconds, before floating back down. Victoire, now just shy of four, wrapped her arms around him as he came back down, and began to cry.

"Don't do that Teddy!" she cried unhappily. The other parents cooed and awwed over the display, and Fleur came to peel her daughter from Teddy, who was looking rather disgruntled.

When they had left the party, Teddy had said to Harry, quite maturely for a four year old

"Blimey, all I did was fly!" Harry had roared with laughter, shocked at just how much Teddy had sounded like Ron in that moment. Teddy hadn't quite understood and had sulked for an hour, again, much like Ron had when Hermione always reprimanded him.

"Oh, Ted, she just likes you," Harry had explained, not sure whether to explain that Victoire most likely had a crush. She followed Teddy around everywhere lately, enamoured with his every word. Teddy had often come back from Shell Cottage complaining of her clingy behaviour.

"I like her too, but I don't hug her all the time," Teddy complained, and once again Harry was amazed at just how grownup he seemed to be, even at four.

Harry decided that he wouldn't bother trying to explain crushes to a four year old - especially not one as stubborn as Teddy. Knowing his son, he would do all he could to avoid the girl and crush her poor little heart.

He also didn't particularly feel like explaining how devastated Teddy would be when they grew up and Victoire flowered into the beautiful young woman Harry just knew she would be. He still had a soft spot for the girl, having been almost a second father to her, and before the beginnings of her little crush, she and Teddy had been the best of friends.

As the final months of Hermione's pregnancy passed, she became more and more irritable, and even larger, if it was possible. She became so big she could not even waddle as she had been doing the previous months, and became "Burrow-ridden".

Molly refused to let her leave and would have had her confined to the bed if she had her way. Harry knew Hermione would never have allowed that though. Despite her bickering and snarkiness, which was very out of character for her, Harry had a sneaking suspicion that she was enjoying pregnancy.

She had, of course, in typical Hermione fashion, read up on every possibly book she could lay her hands on about magical pregnancies, how they differed to Muggle pregnancy, what she could do about it, and a variety of other topics which made Harry immensely glad he was born a man. Just when he thought he could not possibly take much more of the constant mood swings, and Ron's nervous but excited ramblings about his impending daughter, he received an owl whilst watching Teddy hover delightedly on his toy broomstick, which had still not lost its appeal.

"Harry. Baby's coming. Get to St. Mungo's. Can't do this without you," read the messy, urgent scrawl Harry recognised as Ron's. The paper was slightly singed on the edges, and Harry could only imagine the sort of situation he'd been writing the note in.

Panicking slightly, he picked Teddy up, who looked a little disgruntled at having been interrupted in his flying, and Apparated with his son to Andromeda's cottage. The cottage was in much better repair than it had been when Harry had first picked up his son; he had restored it with the help of the rest of the Weasley children, who had been happy to help so long as it put a then rare smile on Harry's face.

"Andromeda!" he called, slightly out of breath from excitement. The older woman came rushing out to greet him, wiping her hands on her apron, her face riddled with worry. Harry felt slightly guilty as she placed a hand on her heart and said

"Oh Harry, dear. It's just you. That's alright." Everyone was still on edge, and calling someone's name urgently after Apparating in still caused dread in the pit of people's stomachs, however much they didn't want to address it.

"Oh, I'm sorry Andromeda. Look, can you take Teddy for tonight? Hermione's having her baby and I need to be there!" he asked earnestly, his face glowing happily.

"Oh, of course, Harry. You know I love having my grandson over. You go and see to Hermione, though I think Ron'll need more comforting. That girl's as tough as dragonhide, but the boy. Well, I think he'll just about faint when they show him his daughter. Ted almost did, you know," she said wistfully, taking on the tone that Harry now associated with the loss of Andromeda's family.

Teddy jumped out of Harry's arms and ran toward his grandmother happily, wrapping himself around her legs crying

"Grandma! Can we make cookies?" Laughing and leading the boy inside, Andromeda turned and wished Harry luck, only to find him gone.

10 hours later, Rose Weasley came into the world, following much screaming on Hermione's behalf, and a fair amount of anxious crying from Ron. Harry, looking back, thought it seemed rather ridiculous that all Ron had to do was hold poor Hermione's hand, when she should be the one crying, but he was ridiculously emotional especially after the medi-witches had presented his daughter to him, magically cleaned and swaddled. Andromeda had been right; he'd almost passed out then and there, and Harry had to hold him up.

It was a good thing Harry had been there, because if he hadn't, he thought Hermione might just about have killed her husband, as her magic was so out of control. He debated leaving the delivery room, not just for his own safety, but for the safety of his mind.

He could not see how any man could stand in that room, watching and listening to what his wife was doing and not be thankful he wasn't a woman. Ron had, to his credit, attempted to calm poor Hermione down, but he made so many absurd remarks in his anxiety, that Hermione had screamed herself hoarse ordering him out of the room, and when that wouldn't work, she cast him out with her magic.

The medi-witches were quite impressed that she was able to cast an intended spell with her magic so wild and out of control, but Harry kept thinking back to "brightest witch of her age". Watching the couple now though, snuggled up together on the small hospital bed, Ron's arms around his exhausted wife, and Hermione's arms around their sleeping daughter, they resembled the couple Harry was accustomed to seeing - the love-struck, happy, young couple.

Seeing as he was no longer needed, Harry quietly said his goodbyes and congratulations, and overcome with the desire to see his son, Apparated back to Andromeda's cottage, and was surprised to see that heavy night had fallen.

She was still awake, however, though he knew the excitable four year old of his wouldn't be. Sitting in the front room, looking at old photos of her family, Harry had caught Andromeda in a moment of weakness. She has been crying, he could see from her red-rimmed eyes and sniffling nose.

"Oh goodness, Harry, you frightened me," she said, looking up and jumping. Harry felt slightly guilty again - living on her own had made Andromeda particularly jumpy.

"Sorry, Andromeda. I didn't mean to disturb you. I didn't realise it was so late," he whispered, settling down into a chair, feeling as if he were intruding on her private mourning. She had long past stopped being embarrassed around the young man, however. Whatever reservations she felt about him three years ago had dissipated when they started spending time together, doting upon Teddy.

"Oh, don't be silly, my boy. How's the young couple?" she asked, pulling herself together internally. There was no place for so much death when there was new life to speak of. Harry's face lit up, still delighted, though markedly exhausted.

"They're marvellous. Well, Hermione's no longer got a voice and Ron cried for most of it, but they have their baby girl. Rose Weasley, she's called. You should have seen Ron, Andi. You were right; he did nearly pass out," Harry replied, relaxing in the older woman's company, and with the knowledge that his son was sleeping soundly just upstairs.

"Oh, I knew it. I can always tell. Does she have the Weasley hair?" Andromeda asked, glad for the giddy reprieve from her solitude. Babies had always made her happy - Nymphadora and Teddy had been the most precious babes she'd ever seen in her life.

"Do you even need to ask?" Harry replied wryly, shooting Andromeda a comical look. He went on to describe the baby, until his eyes drooped and he almost fall asleep right there in Andromeda's living room.

"Oh, you poor boy," she fussed, and Harry would have argued that he was no boy, but a man, in fact, had he not been so tired. (Although a part of him knew that anyone under thirty was still a boy to Andromeda, and that there was really no point in arguing with the woman. She was as stubborn as her late daughter, and now, that the thought about it, her grandson).

Ushering Harry up the stairs to retrieve his sleeping son, Andromeda seized the Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace, summoning the warm green flame which would transport her grandson and Harry home safely.

Everyone knew Floo was the second-rate method of travel, especially for younger wizards and witches who prided themselves on instantaneous transportation, but Andromeda would be damned if she let the exhausted Harry Apparate and risk harming himself or her grandson.

Picking up the small boy, who yawned, fluttered his eyelids and fell deeply back into sleep against Harry's shoulder, Harry thanked Andromeda and bid her goodnight as he stepped into the flame and went home.

CHILDHOOD

Harry was amazed at how quickly Teddy grew from the small excitable boy who had been so enamoured with toy broomsticks and his own amusement to the pre-pubescent boy who seemed to care for naught else but the company of his cousins (or so Harry told him they were - truthfully they were no blood relation, but then Harry never had been either and the Weasleys had always treated him like family).

Teddy had grown astonishingly close to his younger cousins in the years that followed the birth of little Rose Weasley, and she was but the first. George and Angelina had conceived little Roxanne and Fred II within months of the birth of the other; Angelina had taken to pregnancy remarkably well, and George was another Weasley man destined for fatherhood.

Teddy was always older than them all - being born in wartime rather than the product of the celebrations afterwards made him different to them all in more ways than just age. He remembered things from before that the others had no clue of, and Harry was slightly ashamed that he had explained some of it to the boy himself.

But when Teddy came asking questions, what was Harry to do but answer? Bill and Fleur had followed Victoire with another daughter - Dominique. The small girl was almost as beautiful as her older sister, having inherited the Veela gene, but she had somewhat more of her father in her, including what Harry was sure was a wolfish grin.

Teddy was the best of friends with them both, though Victoire never seemed to have grown out of her crush on Teddy - though she had become more adept at hiding it, something Harry suspected her mother had taught her. Rose had grown into a curious young girl, and obviously had inherited her mother's brilliance, as she knew twice the number of spells as Teddy, who was ten, and four years her senior.

"Dad, when can we go see Rose and Hugo again?" Teddy asked as they sat down together for dinner. Harry looked at his son from across the table and noticed that today's choice of hair colour was magenta, interestingly enough.

Teddy had become incredibly skilled at controlling his Metamorphagus skills he received from his mother. When he was a younger child, the gift hadn't surfaced too much, only changing when the boy became highly emotional and it was entirely out of his control.

Without any guidance from Harry, though Merlin knows he had tried, Teddy had managed to master the art, and chose to express his feelings through his ever-changing appearance rather than words, with which he was not quite so adept.

"Honestly, Teddy, you saw them yesterday. What could you possibly have to tell them that you haven't already shared?" asked Harry, shovelling in a mouthful of spaghetti, which was probably not the wisest move, as it left him entirely unable to argue with his son henceforth.

"Dad, I don't think you remember being a kid," Teddy joked, but noticed how his father's eyes darkened at the mention of his childhood. Cursing inwardly, as he was prone to do after listening to his uncles Ron and Bill, he berated himself for bringing up the forbidden topic.

"I suppose we can go tomorrow, after your lessons," Harry conceded, after swallowing his rather large mouthful of food. Teddy's hair flashed pink for a moment, his happiness shining through, before returning to the evening's magenta.

Harry had seen that particular shade before, but only when his son was feeling either rather guilty about something, or if he were really quite excited. He decided not to pry, seeing as his son's teenage tendencies had already kicked in, despite him not even being of Hogwarts age. Harry could only hope that the early mood swings meant for a more pleasant teenage decade - if it started early, perhaps it would end early.

Leaving his son to read in his bedroom, as he was so prone to do recently, Harry sat down to relax, but wound up thinking about things he would rather his mind left alone. It of course paid him no heed and continued to wander into unwanted territory.

It had been 9 years since Harry had defeated Voldemort, and taken in the boy he had come to love so dearly. He had grown into a happy man, but at 28, and with the looming deadline of his son's eleventh birthday far too near at only a few weeks away, Harry found himself wondering just what he would do with his life when Teddy was at Hogwarts and no longer needed him.

He had devoted his entire life to raising the boy as his own, and though he loved him more than he could possibly imagine, he was lonely. That horrid little fact had not presented itself to him until a few months ago, when Hermione had brought up the topic of Teddy going to Hogwarts.

To be honest, Harry had known it would be coming, but he had lived with the boy for so long now that it seemed just absurd that he would not have his company all day, which had become increasingly more like equals sitting together than father and son. His son had excelled at every study the tutor Harry had hired to educate him in everything Hogwarts would not taught, and he seemed to have taken on the brilliance of his father but the outgoing rambunctiousness of his mother.

It was a strange mix, to sometimes see a little Remus sitting in the study, reading quietly, and at other times to see a Tonks running around the yard happily, when he was not on his Nimbus 2000, a model Harry insisted he fly before he moved onto the more skilled brooms of the time.

"Isn't the house just going to be so empty when Teddy goes off to school? I can't imagine silence in our house, and I must say, I'd welcome some," Hermione had said, somewhat wistfully. Harry had been taken aback, though Hermione had not seemed to notice, preoccupied with her own young children running about her feet.

"I suppose so," he had answered absent-mindedly, still reeling a little from the sudden ache in his chest. Hermione had seemed to sense his discomfort and attempted to rectify the tension she'd just created.

"Oh, but Teddy will love Hogwarts. And you're always welcome around here. Goodness knows Ron could use some manly help with Hugo. I don't think he quite knows how to deal with a little boy after spoiling Rose so much," she said, obviously thinking fondly back to her memories of Ron with Rose. Harry didn't need his mediocre Legilimency skills to work that out.

Harry attempted to lighten the mood, but the damage had been done. Hermione's well-intentioned chit chat had planted a seed within Harry that had grown into a treacherous vine which had a tight grip around his heart, tightening every minute it grew closer to Teddy's birthday and September 1st.

Teddy's birthday had eventually rolled around, and Harry had made sure to make a big fuss over it as he had done every year, gathering the many Weasley children together, as well as some new additions to their close friends' families - Dean and Seamus had had a little boy.

However, when the time came to buy Teddy's school things and take him to Diagon Alley (a special treat) Harry found it increasingly harder to feel excited for his son. He knew he should have been over the moon, remembering just how fantastic he had felt buying his first school things with Hagrid, but somehow, his despair grew more and more.

Surely this was not normal - for a father to be in such a bad state sending a child to school. Of course, had he asked any other father in the world, they'd have told him they felt exactly the same, but they would be wrong. Harry knew what he was feeling was something different; something unique. He just didn't know what it was at the time.

Harry accompanied the rest of the massive Weasley brood to Kings Cross Station on September 1st, though none of their children were quite old enough to attend just yet. Teddy had almost burst into tears when he realised that his entire extended family had come along just to see him off, but he had gripped Harry tight, and pulled himself up into Harry's arms like a child again, something he had not done for years.

Harry held him against his chest, though the boy was far too big to cradle as he had when he was but a toddler. Teddy wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's neck and nuzzled him like a cat.

"I'll miss you, Dad," he had whispered sadly, and Harry never wanted to let go of this marvellous boy in his arms, this boy who had stolen his heart from the moment he saw him. He knew however that the rest of the Weasleys would be watching this little display strangely, and so lifted Teddy down and ruffled his hair.

"You'll be right, kiddo. You can owl me every day if you want. But you'll be so busy with your friends and work that you'll forget all about me," he reassured the boy, hoping that this excruciating pain in his chest would subside soon. Teddy's hair, though purple for today, to show his excitement, morphed blue; a shade Harry had not seen before.

"Don't be stupid. I'll never forget about you," he said sincerely, almost too sincerely for just an eleven year old boy saying goodbye to his father. Harry's heart felt like it would explode, and he was not sure if it was on a good way or a bad way. The train whistled and started to roll its wheels.

"Oh goodness, Harry, you'd best let him go," Molly squawked, and Harry quickly took Teddy by the hand and lifted him onto the train which was beginning to move.

'I love you Teddy," he said softly, watching the boy wave as the train picked up speed, and soon it had turned the initial bend was out of sight. Harry turned to face the rest of his family, inexplicably heartbroken.

Ron and Hermione stood with Rose and Hugo at their feet, watching him proudly, while George, Angelina, Bill, Fleur, Ginny and even Percy milled about the station, a remarkable ginger mob surrounded by other families seeing their children off.

"Come on, mate. Let's go home," Ron said, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder and leading him through the barrier and into the beginning of life without Teddy.

TEENAGER
(HERMIONE)

Hermione was not quite sure just how normal her best friend was. She had always known that Harry was never actually normal. Well, being the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, The Saviour of the Wizarding World, and Just Harry; he could never really be normal. She also knew that she never wanted him to be completely normal. That would just be boring, wouldn't it?

But this year, Harry had been stranger than usual. In fact, it frightened her to realise, he resembled that state of being he was in just after the War, when everyone was so worried for him, and so many people had said that he would never pull out of it, and he was destined to be miserable for the rest of his life.

Well, Hermione had never subscribed to such poppycock, but she had been very relieved when he took in Teddy and his spirits seemed to lift.

Hermione had never seen him so happy in all the years she had known him - he had taken to fatherhood better than anyone she knew, even her own husband, who was a marvellous father and doted upon his children shamelessly.

But Harry with Teddy - they had this bond. It was not something she could describe, which was difficult to stomach, as she was usually so proficient with her abilities in, well, everything.

For the first few years, Hermione put it down to the connection that they both lost their parents to war. Perhaps Harry saw himself in his new "son". But as the boy grew older, he and Harry grew closer, nor further apart, as was the norm.

It puzzled Hermione to see Harry more inclined to sit at home and talk with his 9 and 10 year old son as if he were and adult than go out with his actual adult friends, but she figured, the man had had so much in his life already, who was she to judge if he wanted quiet nights in with his son?

She knew that soon she would have to face her own daughter going off to school in a few years, and while the thought was saddening and she knew she would miss her greatly, she also rationalised that Hogwarts was the best place for her, and they would love it there, and learn so much, as she had. Which was why Harry's reaction toward Teddy's leaving was so puzzling to her.

Surely Harry understood the need for Teddy to go to school. Harry himself had adored Hogwarts - it had been his only real home. Surely he would not let his love for his son get in the way of Teddy's opportunity to find a home in Hogwarts, and most importantly, his education.

Hermione had been very relieved the day they had all come along to see Teddy and Victoire off Hogwarts. For a split second, watching her best friend with his son, seeing the look in their eyes, especially in Harry's, she had thought that he would not let him go, and that Teddy would not go even if Harry had let him.

She had let out the breath she did not know she had been holding when Harry lifted Teddy onto the train and watched him leave.

It had been several months since then, and though Hermione knew they owled often, Harry seemed to be missing Teddy a little too much to be… well, normal. She had watched Harry gradually leave the house more often, often at her coaxing, which she had not had to do for years, and eventually she had talked him into taking on some extra things to occupy his time without Teddy.

Rose, though only very young, had taken a shine to Quidditch, much to Ron's delight and Hermione's dismay. Partly to convince Harry to do it, and partly because it was true, Hermione told Harry that the only way she would let Rose learn to fly is if Harry taught her and all the other children who wished to learn.

It was certainly a way to get him out of the house and do something that he loved, and after the first session Hermione had dragged him to, it was clear to her that she had done the right thing. His face had lit up in the sort of joy she had not seen his school days, when he finished a Quidditch game; the kind of high that only came from flying.

He loved the children too. Many of them were Weasleys; or friends' children, like Dean and Seamus' little boy. Harry had always been good with kids; not just Teddy. He still loved Victoire to pieces, Hermione recalled. He was the best godfather you could ask for, and Hermione was sure that Remus and Tonks would be proud looking down on them.

Hermione, of course, was incredibly busy trying to manage looking after Rose and working her way up the ranks at the Ministry. She was still fighting for S.P.E.W, no matter how much people laughed at her. She had also taken werewolf rights seriously, hoping within herself that she could pay a debt to Remus, though he would never experience the rights she hoped to win.

But when she wasn't working, she rather loved taking Rose to Quidditch lessons. Harry had thrown himself into the task, and was sure that he would create the next Gwenog Jones of them all. Rose was infatuated with him - he was by far her favourite uncle, and she certainly had enough to choose from.

"I want to see Uncle Harry!" she would cry, and not relent until Hermione flooed them to Grimmauld Place. She was much like her mother in that way; stubborn to a fault. Harry adored her as well, which was fortunate, as she refused to go a week without seeing him.

Hermione had watched Harry slowly sink back into the routine of normal life, and though she knew he probably would never go back to real work (not that she blamed him; he had worked enough in his life already) she was pleased that he seemed to be dealing with the absence of Teddy increasingly better with each month that passed.

(HARRY)

Harry worried sometimes that he wasn't normal. Obviously, he knew he wasn't really. Honestly, he was a Horcrux for a third of his life - how could he possibly retain any sense of normality? But ever since Teddy had left for Hogwarts, he had felt like his fifth year self all over again.

Rather than being angry all the time, he was just … lost. The house was empty; lonely. To Harry, it seemed as if it had never been quite so silent, so empty. Even when it had been dark, dank, and grim before he had re-decorated, there had been a host of people coming and going.

In the weeks that followed Teddy's departure, Harry found himself wandering the house, at a loss for what to do. There was no boy to entertain, no one to talk to.

He knew that he had many friends that he could see if he wished, but most of them worked, whereas all Harry wanted was his quiet life, free from the stress and inevitable grief that would come with anything to do with rebuilding the Wizarding World.

He was happy to help out occasionally of course, especially if one of his friends needed something, but overall, Harry preferred his live-in dad role.

Now, however, that had been torn away from him, and he found himself with nothing. Whoever thought of boarding school sure wanted to punish parents, Harry thought bitterly, but knew underneath his sadness that Hogwarts was fantastic and Teddy would thrive there.

He had always been a talented boy; his bursts of uncontrolled magic had been almost impossible to handle sometimes.

Teddy owled him often; almost every day, it seemed, for which Harry was thankful. What was probably the most painful thought that plagued him was that Teddy might go off to Hogwarts and forget about him completely - he would make dozens of friends, he would have Victoire, his lessons, Quidditch. Harry would become almost inconsequential.

The letters Teddy sent were filled with excitement; Harry could practically feel it emanating from the parchment. Teddy loved Hogwarts; Headmistress McGonagall scared him, but he loved Herbology with Uncle Neville.

After a few weeks, the letters dwindled; he still wrote at least once a week, always filled with how much Teddy missed him, asking how he was, what he was doing without him, but clearly Hogwarts had caught up with him, and like Harry himself when he was younger, found himself with less time on his hands.

Hermione seemed worried about him; she would come over often, more often than was necessary. She was so busy with all her lawyer work, and sometimes Harry marvelled at she had found a profession that suited her so.

Now, Harry could never see her doing anything else. The Wizengamot was made for her- she strode across the floor angrily, arguing her cases. She was the face of a new world; the antithesis of Voldemort's.

Harry realised that he was under suspicion, and partly not wanting to worry his friends anymore, and partly sick of his constant loneliness and boredom, he decided to do something about it. Taking Hermione up on her offer to teach little Rose and the rest of the children to fly, he rediscovered his love for flying.

When he took the air, there was something about the free feeling that filled the pit of his stomach that reminded him of both his school days, when they had not been plagued by the spectre of Voldemort, and of Teddy.

The children took marvellously well to the flying as well - Rose obviously took after her father when it came to brooms, rather than her mother. Hermione had been near to hysterical when she had seen Rose fly for the first time, even if it was only a metre off the ground.

Ron, however, has been ecstatic. Harry knew that he had a soft spot for his daughter, and though he might have thought he would lose the opportunity to help his child make the Quidditch team, as was a secret dream of Ron's, Rose proved him wrong.

Several months passed, and more children heard that the famous Harry Potter was teaching children to fly. Harry had balked when Hermione first told him, but she explained soon after that for once in his life, "the famous Harry Potter" meant not that of the Saviour of the Wizarding World, but the most talented seeker Hogwarts had ever seen. Parents flocked to the Burrow, where Harry was holding lessons, as Grimmauld Place had no garden.

Harry was surprised to see some of his old friends that he had not seen in years, like Parvati and Padma Patil, who had both married and had children with men from Durmstrang. But more surprising than seeing old schoolmates was seeing those who had detested him.

Zacharias Smith, now considerably manlier, Harry blushed on noticing, had a small son, who seemed almost as arrogant as his father on first appearances, but soon came around after Harry had explained to him that he would not put up with his snottiness, just as he had not with his father, the boy was alright.

Hermione kept hinting that they might see Draco Malfoy and his wife, as they had a small boy about Rose's age. Harry privately hoped that it would never happen. Sure, he didn't really hold any grudges from the war, and he would forever be indebted to the Malfoy family, particularly Narcissa, he could not quite bring himself to like Malfoy.

Harry watched the children he taught grow, and become some of the best fliers he had ever seen, though he wasn't sure that Neville's little girl would do any better on a broom than her father had.

Letters from Teddy remained the highlight of the Harry's weeks, but he found himself able to deal with his absence a lot more in his interactions with his old friends, and the creation of some new ones.

Eventually, years passed, and Harry had become a normal parent, or so he thought. Teddy loved Hogwarts, and Harry was quite happy to send him off every year, though he still felt the pang that every parent felt.

Teddy's seventh year rolled around, and Harry found himself astonished at how much the boy had grown. He was no longer a boy; he was a young man. Everyone, including Harry, had assumed that he would look exactly like Remus had at that age, but in fact, Teddy resembled Harry more.

Of course, this was due to his Metamorphagus side, and Harry secretly wondered if Teddy had subconsciously caused it to happen, because he felt Harry was his true father. Upon thinking this, however, Harry was flooded with guilt. Harry would never be Teddy's real father - he already had a marvellous one, even if he could not be there for his son.

Harry had long since come to terms with the fact that he would always be Teddy's father now - although he tried to tell the boy about his real father as much as he could when he was younger. Teddy hadn't been too interested at first, enamoured in everything that was Harry, but Harry had insisted, and eventually, when Teddy got older, he became more interested, and seemed to understand Harry's desperation to have him know everything about his parents.

Teddy knew who his father was, of course (Harry, that is.) He felt a small pang of sadness about his real parents, but he had never known them, and Harry was all he had ever needed. He was ever so small when he realised it was not just him who looked to Harry with such adoration and worship. Though he wasn't technically old enough to truly understand, Harry had tried to explain the war to him, and what he had been through, and what they had achieved.

Teddy was proud of his father, proud beyond belief, and he liked to think that they were more alike than anyone else Harry knew. After all, as Harry had told him once years ago, Teddy was like another little him. He lost both his parents in the war, and was a child of wartime. Teddy wasn't so sure he was like Harry; he had never been through what his father had, but he appreciated the comparisons. There was no one else in the world he would rather be like.

Teddy was aware by now that his protectiveness over his father was not the most normal of feelings. He had thought that everyone worried about their parents constantly, wondered what they were doing, how they were coping, whether or not they were getting that dark look in their eyes… OK, maybe that last one was exclusive to him.

But from the moment he started Hogwarts he had worried about Harry. It was hardest the first time he had to leave; Harry was all he had ever known, and frankly, all he ever really wanted to know. But everyone around him assured him that Hogwarts was fantastic and that he would love it. Which he had. Hogwarts was incredible; he loved the classes, surprisingly, considering he had despised his private tutoring (well, math, at least).

However, when he brought up the topic with Rose, Hugo, and Roxanne in his third year they had looked at him rather strangely, and assured him that they had far too much fun at Hogwarts to even think about their parents back home. Teddy was confused; how could they forget their parents, even for a moment? Harry was always on his mind, even if it was just a simple thought about how he was.

He asked Victoire, who had remained his best friend well into his school years, and she had looked at him rather pityingly, which irked him.

"Teddy, you know you and Harry are awfully close, right? And that most other kids and parents aren't like that?" she had asked him softly, as if she was speaking to a child. There was something in her eyes which bothered Teddy, as if she knew something he didn't.

"Of course I do, Vic. I'm not stupid," he had snapped, his teenage moodiness having already kicked into overdrive, even at 13. He'd written to Harry about it, of course, unable to understand why every little thing annoyed him to no end and Harry had replied laughingly, explaining how he'd been just the same in fifth year, and everyone was well sick of it by the end of the year, but that he'd outgrown it quickly.

Victoire never broached the subject with him again, but Teddy got the feeling that she had a lot more to say on the topic, but was afraid of the consequences. He was thankful for her silence, because of course he knew he and Harry were closer than normal people; it was made them so special, what made Harry so special. He didn't need anyone tarnishing that.

Now, however, as he entered his seventh year, he wished he could talk to Victoire about it, about that look that he had never forgotten, and about the way she delicately tread over anything relating to Harry. He was convinced there was something wrong with him, and only Victoire would understand.

"Vic, can we talk?" he said to her one night in the common room, carefully having waited until everyone went to bed but the two of them. The fire flickered in front of them, casting dancing shadows on Victoire's beautiful face. It had taken him several weeks to gather this courage, and he was quite proud of his Gryffindor colours finally having shone through.

"Sure, Ted, what's up?" she replied easily, not looking up from her ghastly Potions essay, but Teddy knew she was listening intently. Victoire was a good listener. Most people assumed that she was a bit of a vapid airhead, with a Veela mother and her stunning good looks, but she was actually quietly intelligent to the people who knew her. Teddy knew her by far the best.

"I've, um, been kind of thinking about something lately…" Teddy trailed off, unsure of how to tell her now that he'd actually taken the leap and instigated the conversation. Victoire heard the pause, and simply stayed quiet, knowing her friend well enough to know that he'd find the words eventually.

"You know how you always say Harr-Dad and I are close, right?" Teddy asked, deciding on a different tact, as blurting out his suspicions about himself was too hard to do outright.

"Yes, you and Harry are close. Closer than me and Mum, for sure," she replied, taking note of where the conversation was headed and reminding herself to tread carefully. She suspected she knew what Teddy would say - she'd known it herself for years, but was this finally the moment where Teddy would figure it out?

"Yeah, well, about that. I've been thinking. It's not exactly… normal. I mean, I think about him all the time. I can't stop myself. And I-I call him Harry in my head. And Vic, Oh Merlin, I think there's something wrong with me," Teddy blurted out desperately, suddenly unable to get the words out quick enough. Victoire looked up from her essay, and her glassy blue eyes fixed upon him. There was that look again; he hadn't seen it since third year, and he was pretty sure seeing it now didn't mean anything good.

"Teddy. What sort of thoughts are you having?" she asked gently, knowing exactly what he was saying, but unsure how to coax him into admitting it.

"Vic. It's so sick. I… I think I love him. Not, not like I should. Merlin, Vic, I dream about him, about-about us," he whispered, looking down at the floor in disgust. There. He'd said it. Victoire jumped with glee internally, but managed to keep a contemplative mask.

"Teddy. There is nothing wrong with you. Harry is not your real dad-" she began, but Teddy cut her off angrily.

"No, don't you get it? He is. He's my dad - not Remus, not really. He might have fathered me, but Harry is my dad, my everything. He raised me, and now I want to- to…" He couldn't finish, but looked down again, as if he was so ashamed of himself he couldn't even look her in the eyes.

"OK. So he's your dad. There's still nothing wrong with you. Granted, it's a little unusual, but Teddy, if he makes you happy, who gives a damn what anyone else thinks?" Victoire asked him, allowing her voice to get a little heated. She'd waited so long to tell him this, since the moment he had approached her in third year.

"Vic. How can you… justify this? I'm so fucked up, and it'll never make me happy. Harry'll never want me back, he's my DAD," Teddy near to shouted, though he had no idea why he was suddenly so angry. Vic was being the best friend he could hope for, and he was being a prat. To her credit, Victoire didn't lose her temper, instead watching him simmer for a moment.

"Teddy. I think you need to take a long hard look at yourself and decide what you want. It sounds to me like you're in love with Harry, and for goodness sake, you have been for a long time. You want my opinion? Tell him. If you could see what I see, you'd be less hesitant," she implored of him, looking at him intensely, hoping he would get the message.

It was so obvious to her that Harry loved Teddy too. She was surprised that no one else could see this; Harry could barely manage to let Teddy leave him every year, and the way they were around each other? You'd have to be an idiot not to see it. Then again, she knew her Uncle Harry (her favourite Uncle) incredibly well, and perhaps she was more adept at reading him.

Still, she supposed she was thankful that seemingly only she could in fact see the love that lay between them. She suspected that not everyone would see it her way. Her mother had explained to her once that because she was a child of wartime, much like Teddy, she was able to see past convention, and prejudice, to what really mattered - love.

Teddy looked at her, and for a moment she thought he was going to burst into tears. Instead, he pulled himself together, and quite unexpectedly, pulled her into a tight hug, almost smearing the ink of her Potions essay she'd worked so hard on.

"Thanks, Vic," he said softly, so softly she almost didn't hear it. Well. It was about time.

(PAGE BREAK)

Now that Teddy had, well, somewhat come to terms with what exactly he had been feeling for all these years, the problem was, how was he going to tell Harry? This wasn't something he could just blurt out and everything would be fine and dandy. Usually he had no problem telling Harry every little thing that bothered him - it had become all too natural over the years.

But this? This was different. For one thing, Teddy was sure that as well-meaning as Victoire had been, she had been so wrong about even the notion that Harry could ever want him too. He was Harry Potter, Saviour of their world, everyone's favourite celebrity, his dad. He'd never be so fucked up as his son was.

As Teddy pondered what exactly the fuck he was going to do, Harry was sitting at home in Grimmauld Place, oddly restless. He hadn't felt this way in a while; and he knew exactly what it was - he missed Teddy. He berated himself mentally; he had to get over this. This obsession he had. He cringed at the word, but there was no other way of putting it. He was obsessed with his son.

Jesus, didn't that sound wrong? He had tried to deny it at first, tried with all his might, and the might of Harry Potter was not something most people could withstand. Unfortunately, it seemed that his extraordinary will just didn't work on him. He had a whole new batch of kids he was teaching to fly, most of them younger siblings of kids he'd previously taught, but even that wasn't satisfying him lately.

Teddy consumed him; he could never take his mind off the boy for more than a few minutes. His dreams had begun to take a disturbing turn; Teddy, in every which way, in ways that made Harry blush almost as red as the famous Weasley hair when he thought about them.

Harry was shocked at first; no, shocked isn't strong enough. He was stunned, gobsmacked. How could he be thinking this? This was his son, for Christ's sakes. The shock changed to disgust, curling in his stomach every time he thought about his son. Disgust always laced with hot arousal.

He hadn't felt this way about anyone since, well, ever. The closest he had ever come was Ginny, but this blew that school romance right out of the water. He had never felt so… so alive. So utterly and completely consumed with lust, and love, and fire; which were always followed by loathing, disgust, confusion.

He was careful, so careful. He never let on anything in his letters to Teddy, or so he desperately hoped. He tried like he had never tried at anything before not to allow his friends to notice, though he was sure Luna was looking at him differently lately.

Eventually, as months passed, the longing became a part of him, always there, always twinging at him, reminding him what a fucked up human being he was. It wasn't unlike his scar had been, and the comparison annoyed Harry. Teddy was never going to be something he'd want rid of.

Harry went about his life; there was no other choice. He had to just move on normally and get over this, this abnormality. A shrill voice entered his head often now; he was quite sure it belonged to his Aunt Petunia, though he had successfully managed for so long to keep the Dursleys out of his mind.

"Abnormal, just like your parents" it screeched repeatedly, the malice behind the statement still there. Harry had never found himself really used to it; it was just always there, and eventually, he didn't dwell on it quite so much as he had before. He figured, as long as he kept it to himself, and no one ever, everfound out, well, then maybe, just maybe, he could live with it.

He should have known that, being him, it wouldn't work like that.

(PAGE BREAK)

A week before the school holidays started, Harry took his usual flying class, and was heartened to see Luna with her twins. She'd married a few years before and though he had never taken to her husband, Rolf, overly well, he could see that she was happy. It wasn't that he disliked the man, more that he was so incredibly quiet and strange that he always felt a little uncomfortable around him.

But then he supposed that Luna had been much the same way when he had first met her, and now she was one of his closest friends. They were so close, in fact, that Harry recognised the look in her eyes as he corrected the children's technique, and was not entirely sure that he liked it. When class finished, and the children ran after each other playfully, Harry approached her.

"Luna, whatever have I done to have you look at me like that?" he asked teasingly, though he was quite dreading hearing the answer, to be honest. Luna looked at him in that way of hers; Harry had often entertained the idea that she was a Seer, due to her incredible abilities to see right through him.

"Harry Potter, don't you pretend I don't know just what you're thinking about," she replied in that dreamy tone, and Harry's stomach dropped.

"I-I don't know what you're on about, Luna," he said, unconvincingly. Luna didn't reply, but fixed him with a beady stare, not unlike Professor McGonagall's.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. I would think you would know that by now," she said finally, keeping an eye on her two rowdy children out of the corner of her eye. When Harry didn't reply, and was looking quite green around the gills, she thought he had better take action.

"Harry, why don't I come over for tea? You sure do look like you could use a bit of it," she suggested kindly, taking him by the arm, and gesturing to her husband that he should take the children. The two were so in sync that they need not have exchanged any words; it seemed Rolf knew exactly what Luna was up to.

Harry, who was still looking rather shaken up, nodded and Apparated them back to Grimmauld Place, in his fluster forgetting to say goodbye the many parents he left behind.

"Now, sit down while I make tea, and we are going to talk about this," Luna instructed as they landed in the bright kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Harry knew better than to argue with Luna when she was like this; rather like Hermione, she was not someone to be crossed when she made up her mind.

"I think… perhaps you've got the wrong end of the stick," Harry said tentatively, still hoping he could convince Luna she had no idea what she was talking about.

"Harry, don't be so utterly ridiculous. You know I know, and I've known for ages, so it's about time we get this out in the open," Luna said firmly, placing a steaming cup of tea in front of him.

"You are quite in love with young Teddy, and I daresay he feels the same way, so I think you need to pick yourself up and do something about it," Luna continued in that same firm manner, as if she were speaking to her sons and not a grown man.

"Luna, you don't understand. He's my son," Harry pleaded, dropping all pretences.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake. Why is everyone so caught up with this ridiculous taboo business? I must say, after surviving two Wizarding Wars, one would think the mere existence of love would be enough without placing yet more silly conventions on it," exclaimed Luna angrily, as if she had been waiting quite some time to say all this.

"Luna, it doesn't matter whether I love him or not, people would-"

Luna cut him off.

"You listen to me now, Harry Potter. I have seen you in your darkest days, and the only thing that has ever and will ever make you happy is that boy! Of course it matters whether you love him, in fact that's the only thing that matters," she said heatedly.

"But-" Harry tried again, to no avail.

"Harry, why don't you listen? Teddy obviously loves you! You're just making him unhappy denying this thing between you. You and I both know that neither of you will be happy with anyone else, and honestly, if your other friends can't accept that, well, they don't deserve to be your friends," Luna said, and this seemed to be the end of her little rant.

Harry was stunned. He'd never expected anyone to find this out about him, and even in his nightmares when they had, they had been disgusted. He would be cast from the Wizarding World and never allowed to see Teddy again and he would be "Just Harry" again without his son and his magic and his world.

But … what if Luna was right? He had given up everything for this world. He'd given up his life for this world. What if… what if he did deserve some happiness? What if Teddy was that happiness? Could he really have him? Did Teddy really want him?

"I hope I've talked some sense into you," Luna said, standing.

"I have to go, but, Harry, I just want you to be happy. If Teddy is what makes you happy, well then why shouldn't you be with him?" she said softly before Apparating away, leaving an extremely confused Harry in her wake.

(PAGE BREAK)

Victoire Weasley was worried. No, worried was not strong enough. She was frantic, desperate, sure she would go insane with the worrying. Teddy, far from receiving the peace of mind she had expected, was descending slowly into madness.

Since she had wrestled a confession out of him, she had been there for the several breakdowns that had followed, and talked back his confidence once more. Several times, he had told her that he would do it, he would tell Harry how he felt, and then promptly would fall apart and cry and tell himself how sick he was and he'd never tell anyone else, ever.

Victoire had caught him several times in what she assumed to be the prelude to an act of suicide. The first time he had been sitting on his bed in the boy's dormitories, muttering to himself and tracing his wrists with his wand, leaving thin red scorch marks. She was shaken, and sat with him all night, consoling him, close to tears herself.

She wrote to her mother for advice, though never disclosing Teddy's reason for anguish, and her mother had told her to be strong, keep doing what she was doing, let him know he was loved. She was trying. The second time she caught him was one of the coldest days she had ever seen, and the snow which covered every inch of the grounds and castle was itself covered in a fine layer of frost.

She woke early, went to check on Teddy, as had become her morning custom, and found an empty bed. The Marauder's Map, a genius invention Harry had given Teddy when he started Hogwarts, lay on the bedside table, and desperate, Victoire scanned it for any sign of Teddy. She was horrified to see a tiny dot with his name on the outskirts of the Black Lake.

Too worried to put on a coat or scarf, she raced through the castle and out to the Lake, searching for him. He was dipping his feet in the freezing Lake, wearing nothing but his thin pyjamas. Victoire screamed his name, and raced toward him, but the snow around her already freezing feet were was making it hard to move, and he didn't seem to have heard her.

He stepped forward, wading in the slush of ice that was the freezing Black Lake, until he reached his waist. He stepped forward to keep going, but Victoire reached him, racing into the Lake herself, and gasping at the pain that attacked her legs from the cold.

"Teddy! What do you think you're doing?" she screamed, tears running down her face, freezing on her cheeks. He looked at her blankly, and replied dully

"Go back to the castle, Vic. I'm doing what I have to," before stepping further into the water until his chest was enveloped in icy water, and Victoire grabbed him roughly.

"Theodore Lupin! Don't you do this. Don't you dare leave me! I love you!" she cried, beating on his chest angrily, trying to drag him out of the water, while trying to hold herself up. The cold was starting to seep its way into her limbs, and she was getting weaker. She didn't know how Teddy had managed to battle it this long.

She managed to drag him further and further out of the depths, until they reached the shore, and she shivered uncontrollably, holding up his limp body, and slapping him, trying to get some reaction. She received none. His eyes stared ahead blankly, his lips blue, his hair streaked with frost.

Victoire was trying to be strong, she was trying so hard. She tried to remember her mother's words, but like the warmth in her body, they were slowly seeping away from her, and she collapsed on the edge of the Black Lake, next to the now unconscious body of her best friend.

(PAGE BREAK)

Minerva McGonagall had never seen such a cold day, and she had been at Hogwarts a many great years. Now that she was Headmistress, she was privy to secrets she had never known existed about the castle, and it had far more magic than she knew. Dumbledore had always spoken about it as if it were alive, and could speak to him. She was surprised to find that, well, he was very right.

The moment she had been proclaimed Headmistress, the castle had reached out its magic and welcomed her, and she was delighted to find that she could now, with some practise, determine where every student and member of staff was, provided they were on the grounds. It was a very useful skill, and explained a great many things Dumbledore had always seemed to know when he was alive.

On the morning of the coldest day Hogwarts had ever seen, however, it was not just the cold that was disconcerting her. She awoke suddenly, far before the sunrise (or the sickly pale excuse for sun, anyway), and felt the castle reaching to tell her something. She felt it nudge at her consciousness, and all of a sudden, she had an image of two students, collapsed on the grounds.

"Oh goodness," she exclaimed, and threw on her robes quickly, casting a few warming spells before she raced out the doors to the Lake. Spotting the children, she said a quick prayer under her breath, and levitating them, magicked them back up to the castle.

Several hours later, Madam Pomfrey had them bundled in blankets and sipping warm cocoa. The young woman, Victoire Weasley, was speaking softly with Professor Longbottom, looking thoroughly traumatised, but the boy, Teddy Lupin, had yet to say a word. He didn't look at anyone, he didn't say anything, and only after much coaxing did he accept the cocoa.

After Neville had left, Minerva sat down next to Victoire, and quickly cast a Muffliato, to be sure that Teddy heard nothing of their exchange.

"You both gave us all quite a fright, Miss Weasley," she said, not unkindly. Victoire looked down, and mumbled an apology.

"I would like to know what you were both doing down there," Minerva prompted, and she saw the girl's face stricken.

"I-I don't know that I can tell you, Headmistress," she stuttered, nervous to be defying the Headmistress, but determined to stay loyal to her friend. Victoire had never felt so helpless, and even as she felt the cocoa warm her bones, she remembered the chill of the Lake and the feeling as she slowly lost consciousness. It was not something she ever wished to experience again.

"I understand that you wish to protect young Mr. Lupin, but we really must know. You very nearly died this morning, both of you, and I cannot allow something like this to happen again," prompted Minerva, wondering just what could have caused this near-tragedy.

Victoire looked over at Teddy, who was lying asleep a few beds over, and her face fell. Victoire would never betray Teddy, but he needed help.

"Headmistress, if I tell you, you must absolutely promise not to tell anyone," she said seriously, and Minerva swore solemnly, growing more worried by the moment.

"Well, the thing is, Teddy is not like everyone else. He has this.. thing… that upsets him. I can't tell you what it is, and I won't no matter how much you ask, so don't bother. But it really affects him," Victoire started, her eyes still downcast, and Minerva slowly began to understand.

"He's been getting worse. He doesn't eat. I'm pretty sure he hasn't slept in weeks. Sometimes he'll seem fine, and other times, well, let's just say this isn't the first time he's done something like this. He went down to the Lake this morning, and well, I had to stop him," Victoire said, imploring Minerva to understand. She didn't think she had the strength to say out loud that Teddy was trying to kill himself.

Thankfully, Minerva understood. She also saw the steely glint in the girl's eyes when she spoke of the thing affecting Teddy, and knew better than to ask about it. She left Victoire with promises not to share the information with anyone, and with a firm reassurance that she would be keeping an eye on both her and the young man.

Leaving the Hospital Wing, Minerva was utterly disturbed. She'd seen other children try to do the same thing, but not in a long time, and it had been such a long time since she saw the kind of anguish in a boy that she saw in Mr. Lupin.

The young woman in question, Victoire, obviously cared a great deal about him. It rather reminded her of young Mr. Harry Potter in his fifth year of school; and strangely enough, of Draco Malfoy in his sixth year. She would never forget the looks of desperation on their faces, and now she saw it again on Potter's own son's face.

Unsure of what to do, Minerva retired to her chambers, taking comfort in the warmth from the fire inside. What could she do? She could inform Harry of this, as her duties as Headmistress really obligated her to, but there was a niggling doubt inside her that told her it would be a bad idea to let him know of what had happened to his son. After all, wouldn't the boy have gone to his father if it was something he wanted him to know?

No, Minerva had long since tried reasoning with her instincts and now simply trusted them. If her gut was telling her not to tell Harry, she would trust it.

"Besides," she reassured herself. "I can watch him and see if anything progresses further. If so, I'll have to inform Harry."

With a firm reassurance that she would monitor the boy, and indeed the young Weasley girl, she allowed herself to relax somewhat, and continue about Hogwarts life.

Teddy was let out of the Hospital Wing several days after the incident, with much argument from Madam Pomfrey, who maintained that the boy needed at least a week more rest and could not possibly be let out of her sight, but Minerva could see that the boy was itching to leave.

She kept her promise to herself and monitored him carefully, at mealtimes and during classes when she could, and reaching out to the castle to reaffirm his presence at all times. Eventually he settled back into normal Hogwarts life, and seemed to be surviving. He ate well at every breakfast and dinner, without any coaxing, Minerva was pleased to see.

He seemed to be sleeping, though she could not be sure, but he always seemed alert and awake during classes. True, he did not have the same shine and enthusiasm that she had come to expect of him from earlier years, but that was to be expected.

After several weeks, Minerva allowed herself a modicum of pleasure for preventing an undoubtedly tragic event, though it was really more Miss. Weasley who did the work, and Minerva had stepped in at the end there. Letting her guard down, Minerva stopped monitoring the boy so closely, and allowed the issue to pass. She had not even needed to notify Harry and it had all worked out alright. The boy would be OK now.

How terribly, terribly wrong she was.

(PAGE BREAK)

Victoire was let out of the Hospital Wing sooner than Teddy, but she insisted on staying every night that he was there, sure that if she did not watch him, he would try something terrible again. Sitting by his bedside as he slept fitfully, she wondered just how he managed to get to this state and how she had not managed to fix it sooner.

Aside from the terrible guilt she felt, Victoire was also agonising over the very thing Teddy felt so dreadfully about. While she did not think Teddy's love for Harry (and quite obviously, Harry's for Teddy) was wrong, she knew many others would, and they would not see it her way. It made her angry, right from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her toes. Sometimes she thought she would explode with it, but then she remembered that Teddy needed her, and she controlled herself.

Teddy was finally let out of the Hospital Wing, when the Headmistress had seen how impatient he was to leave, and Victoire could have sworn she saw something of a smile on the old woman's face; a rare occurrence. Uncle Harry had only ever told her of a few times when the Headmistress had ever smiled, and he was just as astonished as she as she listened, enthralled.

Teddy seemed, well, not better, but not any worse. He was very quiet in the few days after his release, and that was mighty disquieting. Teddy used to be the rowdiest boy of the bunch, always up for a game of very loud Exploding Snap or Quidditch. Now, though, she was lucky to get one or two words out of him a day.

But he was eating, and doing his homework, albeit in silence, and he even managed to sleep some. Of course, that might have had something to do with Victoire's insistence to sleep with him. She told him that it was because she could not stand to let him out of her sight, and that was part of it, but she did not disclose that in fact, after the trauma of the Lake, she couldn't sleep alone.

She knew she was breaking the rules, sneaking into the boy's dormitories, and sliding into bed with him, but plenty of other girls did it, and honestly, after what her best friend had been through (not to mentioned herself) she figured she deserved a little rule-bending. She also assumed that many of the Gryffindor boys thought that she and Teddy were a couple, and she thought she saw a few jealous glances in the mornings.

Truthfully, she had loved Teddy for a long time. She remembered the crush she'd had when she was young and her mother explaining to her that sometimes boys just didn't understand girls and that she shouldn't be offended if Teddy suddenly didn't want to talk to her. It had taken her a long time to get over him, when she had realised that he only had eyes for Harry. It was sometime in her fourth year when she realised she had better just toughen up and get over it. With a lot of willpower and a long time, she'd finally managed it.

In the weeks following the incident, things became more and more normal, until Victoire was convinced the panic was over and finally retreated to her own bed, her own life again. That was a mistake.

(PAGE BREAK)

It had been several months since Victoire had pulled Teddy from the Lake, and ever since then, Teddy knew he was being watched constantly. He felt Headmistress McGonagall's eyes on him during class, and he knew Victoire monitored every little thing he did. It was driving him crazy. Why could no one understand that he needed to be left alone; that he was sick, and he didn't want to infect anyone else?

The few nights he spent in the Hospital Wing were agonising. Teddy could not believe he had failed in his attempt. There was no other option, he had to try again. The world would be better off without him and his twisted mind. Harry would be better off. No matter how much Victoire tried to tell him that people loved him, that he was OK, that he had to stay, he kept coming back to Harry, as his mind always inevitably would. Harry would be able to have a normal life without Teddy in it; without his son pining after him, without the chance that Teddy might slip up one day and ruin everything.

It was exactly because of this that he kept reminding himself that these few months, this extra time, was borrowed. He was biding his time, waiting for them to stop watching, until he could try again. Eventually they all left him alone, and he could no longer feel eyes on him every single moment of every day, and for a moment, he thought about … just not doing it. Staying. He could contain himself, couldn't he? And then he remembered the images that bombarded him the moment he closed his eyes; the ones in which Harry was fucking him and he was enjoying it, and he told himself he must go through with it.

He made his plans, and the opportunity presented itself sooner rather than later, a fact Teddy was both dismayed and relieved about. Victoire had retreated to her own dormitory for the night, and the rest of his classmates were sound asleep. No one noticed him tip toe out of the dormitory, exit the Gryffindor common room, ignore the Fat Lady's protests and inquiries, and walk silently and slowly up to the Astronomy Tower.

"I wonder what it will feel like," he thought to himself aimlessly, as he walked. He hoped it wouldn't hurt too much.

It seemed to take a lifetime to reach the top; each step seemed heavier than the last, but at the same time, a strange lightness was filling him, until it felt almost as if he was floating. He wondered whether this was what dying would feel like.

Eventually he reached the very top of the Astronomy Tower. It was pitch dark - he had to light the end of his wand in order to even see the ledge. The freezing winds whipped his face viciously, and his hair flailed wildly. He looked down. He couldn't see the ground, such was the dark. It was strange to think that in just a moment, he'd be on that ground. Except … he wouldn't. His body would.

He stood there for a moment, or it might have been a while, or it might have been an age. He didn't know. He thought of Harry. His Harry. He wondered what he was doing at this very moment. It didn't matter much, but it was nice to think about anyway. Would he mourn him? He was sure he would. Harry didn't know about his abnormality. He thought he was a normal boy. It would be kinder to let him keep believing that.

Bracing himself, he took a tentative step forwards, and as his foot hit air, his stomach lurched. This was it. There was no coming back from this. He slowly moved his other foot forward, and then. He was falling. It was a sensation like no other. His stomach dropped out of his body completely, his heart pounded, and for a second, he thought he heard himself screaming.

Then it was all over.