A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for the Hogwarts Eastern Funfair, for the Ferris Wheel. My prompt: (object) teddy bear.

Word Count: 2033

Thanks to my sister for beta'ing!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.

Enjoy!

Harry, not for the first time in his life, felt incredibly out of place. He unconsciously ran a hand through his untidy dark hair, mirroring his dead father. And that was the problem, wasn't it? Dead fathers.

Being orphaned was the biggest (and most obvious) similarity between Harry and his godson. As Teddy's godfather, it was Harry's job to help take care of and raise the young boy. Almost a year had passed since the Lupins' tragic deaths. Teddy, Remus and Tonks' son, was turning one today. Harry wished Remus was still alive, or that his own father or godfather had been more present in his life. Never before had he wished so much that he'd had someone to show him how to be a father; Uncle Vernon didn't quite cut it.

He was struggling with his godfatherly duties— not only was he unsure how to go about helping to raise Teddy, but he wasn't sure where the line between "godfather" and "father" stood. It was his biggest fear that Teddy would begin to see him that way; as Remus' replacement. While Sirius had, in every way, acted the part of guardian, Harry had never once felt that he was taking the place of his father. Teddy was so young, though, that he feared he'd accidentally take Remus's place as Teddy got older.

Harry sighed. It wouldn't do to just stand on Andromeda's front porch while the party went on inside. He wiped his sweaty palms on his Muggle jeans, laughing at himself for getting so worked up over a simple birthday gift. That was the reason he was still out there; when he had been shopping for a present, he'd been at a loss as to what to buy, seeing as he'd never received proper birthday presents from the Dursleys. He did, however, know that old socks simply wouldn't do.

This parenting thing was hard, and it was Andromeda doing the tough part.

Harry knocked on the door, clutching Teddy's clumsily wrapped present a little too tightly. A moment later, Andromeda's frazzled face appeared in the doorway; Harry felt instantly guilty for stalling for so long.

"Harry!" she exclaimed happily. "I'm so glad you made it. Teddy's been asking about you—"

"'Arry!" shouted an excited voice. A small weight collided with his legs, making him stumble. He looked down to see a chubby face smeared with chocolate gazing up at him adoringly.

The-Boy-Who-Lived scooped up his messy godson, not minding the chocolate handprints that stained the back of his shirt. "Hey, Teddy! Did you all eat the cake without me?"

Andromeda rolled her grey eyes as Teddy babbled happily in response. "Teddy ate the cake," she translated. "Molly, bless her, is baking him another one now."

Harry laughed, some of his nerves melting away. "At least you know that you baked a good cake."

Andromeda put her hands on her hips. "I'm not so sure about that. It wasn't that long ago that he was trying to eat galleons, you know."

Harry's chuckle was interrupted by Teddy tugging his hair impatiently. He gestured wildly at the rest of the house, and both his grandmother and his godfather (who was wincing slightly) got the hint; they joined the rest of the party.

Harry placed his present to Teddy next to the others, then joined the Weasleys, Hermione, and Andromeda for the new cake and ice cream. The next couple of hours were all fun and laughs; Teddy's misadventures and color-changing hair was enough to keep all the guests entertained.

Then came the moment Harry was dreading. It was time to open the presents.

Harry sidled over to Ron, his green eyes anxious. "Hey mate," he whispered as Andromeda handed a present to Teddy. "What'd you get him?"

Ron glanced up from his cake. "Well, Hermione got him a Muggle kid's book," Ron rolled his eyes. "but I got him this baby-friendly snitch— it just rolls around on the floor and the kid goes after it. It's charmed not to roll anywhere dangerous. Why?"

Harry shrugged, his stomach knotting unpleasantly. Those were both great presents. "I wasn't sure what to get him," he admitted.

Ron patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, mate. He's one, not ten. He won't care what you get him."

Ron's words did have truth in them, but Harry still felt like an incompetent godfather as he watched Teddy open his gifts. The one-year-old boy gleefully received books, Quidditch toys, a stuffed dragon, and even pranking supplies ("You can never start too early," George told them solemnly). Harry's gift was beginning to seem like a last-ditch effort, which wasn't the case at all— he'd spent hours in that toy store.

The blue fuzz on top of Teddy's head, which Andromeda insisted was hair, changed briefly to yellow when he saw his grandmother's gift: a Muggle train set. He examined it for all of two seconds before he set it aside and reached for the last present: Harry's.

He told himself that he was being unreasonable. Ron was right; Teddy wouldn't care what he had gotten him as long as he could play with the wrapping paper, and no one else here would criticize his choice, either.

The birthday boy tore into his gift, waving long strips of paper at different members of his family in his chubby fists. He took his time unwrapping, but the smile on his face was worth the wait. Finally, Teddy pulled out his gift.

His entire face lit up into a brilliant grin, his hair flashing purple. He waved the toy up and down, and addressed Andromeda. "Wook Gan. Wook! Bear!"

Harry blinked, unsure of what was happening. He didn't even know Teddy knew that word. It was a simple Muggle teddy bear. There was nothing special about it; with brown fur and a blue ribbon, there was nothing to make it stand out from any other toy. For some reason, though, it had refused to leave his mind for long when he was shopping.

"Oh my goodness, Teddy," cooed Andromeda, lifting up her grandson and his new bear. "Look at that! Harry knows you too well, doesn't he?"

He did?

Seeing his confusion, Andromeda explained. "Teddy recently developed a love for bears. We went to a Muggle zoo, and well… he fell in love with them."

"Bear!" chirped Teddy.

Harry laughed. Maybe, just maybe, he could get the hang of this whole godfather thing.

A month later, Harry was wishing he'd gotten Teddy a racecar instead.

"Teddy," he said tiredly. "you have to let go of Bear so I can wash him."

Teddy grinned up at him. "No."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. If there was one word he wished Teddy hadn't learned, it was that one.

It was the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and Harry had agreed to watch Teddy while Andromeda visited her family's graves. Harry also had graves he'd like to visit, but he knew that Andromeda, who had lost her daughter, husband, and son-in-law in the war, had the priority. Of course, Teddy had no idea what today signified, and did not understand his godfather's less-than-cheery attitude.

Harry groaned. Eighteen, he decided was too young to be driven insane by a toddler. Unfortunately, Teddy— who was covered in yogurt— disagreed. His godson lifted his spoon (Harry had long since given up on feeding him), and before he could be stopped, had flung half the contents of his bowl across the kitchen. Harry wiped off his glasses and glared at the messy stuffed bear in annoyance. It was, frankly, disgusting; Bear was dripping with yogurt and other remnants of Teddy's breakfast and lunch, and there were mysterious stains all over him. Harry had to put the young metamorphmagus down for a nap soon, and he knew that Andromeda would not be pleased if Teddy went to sleep with something so dirty.

There was only one thing he could do.

Feeling like the worst godfather on the face of the planet, Harry picked Teddy up with one arm and took Bear from him with the other.

Teddy's eyes (blue today) blinked owlishly for a moment; then his face crumpled and reddened, and he let out a heart-wrenching wail. Harry quickly balanced Teddy on his hip, grabbed his wand, and scourgified the toy. He handed it back to the screaming boy. The baby took it tearfully and clutched Bear to his chest, but his cries didn't cease; he was mad at his godfather for his betrayal. Harry apologized and tried to convince Teddy that he wouldn't take Bear again, but to no avail.

Teddy's cries increased in volume, and he was starting to shed real tears. Now Harry was panicking, jiggling the baby in a desperate attempt to calm him, making faces at him, even dancing around the kitchen. Nothing worked.

Minutes passed, and Harry was growing frantic. He tried to engage Teddy with numerous puzzles and games, but all proved useless. Guilt and despair overwhelmed him. He shushed Teddy gently, hoping that he would forget his tears and calm down. After a couple of minutes, he gave up.

Almost an hour had passed since the Bear fiasco. Harry put his godson down on a chair, and rushed around to find the boy something to drink; Andromeda had told him once that Teddy just needed to be occupied if he was getting really upset. He grabbed a cup, fumbled with it, dropped it, cursed under his breath, then bent down to retrieve it. When he stood back up, he banged the back of his head against the underside of an open cabinet.

"Ow!" he shouted, rubbing the back of his head. He could feel a bruise beginning to form. Head pounding, Harry took a shuddering breath. Today was just not his day.

Remus and Tonks has trusted him. They had asked him, in their absence, to care for and protect their son. Harry had the protecting part down— that was something he could do well. It was the caring part that he was failing at. Honestly, if he didn't have Andromeda, Teddy would have been stuck with the worst guardian in England.

He wanted to be there for Teddy. But the truth was, Andromeda was doing Harry's job. She was the one living with Teddy, bathing him, patching him up when he falls, feeding and clothing him… Harry was the guy who was around a lot and brought him gifts.

Remus had been so confident when he had asked Harry to be godfather. Harry remembered the day well; he'd never seen Remus so happy, and Andromeda had admitted that it was the happiest she'd ever seen him as well. He wanted to raise his old professor's son well, like he'd have been raised if the Lupins were still alive. But they weren't.

And Harry didn't know how to be a godfather.

He never wanted to compare himself to Uncle Vernon, but it couldn't be helped; they were both awful guardians. While he didn't neglect Teddy, he was also clueless as to how he should go about comforting the small boy. He didn't know what one-year-olds ate for dinner, how often they were supposed to nap, or how small to cut their food. He felt like a failure, and he hoped for Teddy's sake that he never got stuck with Harry as his main caretaker.

He felt a hand on his knee and glanced down. There was Teddy, his hair back to blue, his eyes still puffy from crying, looking up at him worriedly. "Oh-ay?"

Glad that he'd finally stopped crying, Harry managed a strained smile. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Teddy held the freshly-cleaned teddy up to him. "Bear?"

Harry accepted the toy, aware that this was his godson's way of providing comfort. "Thank you. Come on, Teddy. Time for bed."

The rest of the day was a breeze. When Andromeda returned home, Harry wasn't as relieved as he thought he would be. He may not be a perfect godfather, but Teddy's black hair and green eyes told him he was getting there.

And that was good enough for him.