Written for QLFC Round 11
Team: Wigtown Wanderers
Position: Beater 2
Prompt: Write about growing old on a winter day(s) OR youthfulness on a spring night(s).
Additional Prompts: 5. (word) asleep, 12. (colour) yellow, 13. (phrase) walking down the road
Words: 1424

Thanks to Ash and Aya for betaing!

Teddy focused as he listened to the click of the light switch, the snap of the door, and his grandma's muffled footsteps on the carpeted corridor. He opened his eyes only after he heard her bedroom door shut—she was trying to be quiet, and he had to strain to hear it—and was met with darkness.

The small nightlight next to his bed, a Muggle gift from his godfather, glowed yellow, but not bright enough to make the room visible. He squinted against the dark and tried to listen for his grandma again, but heard nothing.

She was trying to let him sleep soundly; she always did—one of the many things she did to make him feel comfortable and loved.

Sitting up in bed, Teddy smiled. His grandma couldn't see or feel it, but he loved her as much as she loved him—so much! There was a number for it, he was sure, but he didn't know it. Aunt Hermione probably did, though—Teddy needed to remember to ask her.

He waited a bit longer. Just in case. His grandma had told him not to go outside alone in at night, but he didn't see what the problem was. The outside couldn't hurt him, especially at his age: he was almost ten. There was no reason to worry so much, he could handle himself.

Teddy focused all of his energy on listening, but there was no sound from his grandma's room. The coast was clear. He'd waited long enough already, but no more. No, tonight would be the night, and no amazing but overprotective grandmas would stop him.

It was his fault that she was so overprotective, really. The last time he'd tried to leave, she'd still been awake, sitting in front of the fireplace and knitting. Teddy almost slapped his forehead in frustration as he remembered his justification for being up so late: "I had a nightmare, grandma."

"Should have said you were thirsty," Teddy whispered angrily.

He clapped his hands over his mouth as he heard his grandma's door opening, and fell back into bed. His heart was racing. If she came in and saw that he was awake, she'd never go to bed, and Teddy would be stuck waiting until he, too, eventually fell asleep.

And if he fell asleep, then he wouldn't be able to go outside. No, he had to stay awake. He had to.

He clamped his eyes shut and tried to even his breathing as he heard footsteps in the corridor and his door creaking open. He heard his grandma's breathing as she checked on him, worried, but not trying to wake him up. Hopefully, she'd think she imagined him talking and go back to her room, to bed—a moment—another—and then the door closed and she walked away.

Teddy let out a quiet, relieved sigh.

He wouldn't talk anymore. His grandma would know, in the way that all the adults in his life did, if something was up. But she'd be asleep soon, and her attentiveness would disappear.

Teddy waited once more. He pinched himself to make sure he wouldn't fall asleep, and sat up. There was no clock in his room, so he didn't know how long he waited, but he was sure it was a long time.

Finally, he could hear nothing. The air itself was still and silent; like when, once, he'd woken up at half past three, and the world didn't seem to exist because he couldn't see, hear, or feel anything other than himself.

Teddy threw the covers off himself and slowly put his feet on the floor. He hoped it wouldn't creak, as it sometimes did, being old and wooden. He closed his eyes, just in case something went horribly wrong, and stood up. Step by step, creeping, he made his way to the door.

This was the hardest part, he knew. His door creaked, but only sometimes, and he could never predict it. He was always asking his grandma to fix it, but she kept forgetting. He didn't see what the big deal was, really: she could just wave her wand. She was great with housekeeping spells.

The problem remained, however. This was the decisive moment—if it creaked, his grandma would be up and running to his room, and he'd never get to leave.

Closing his eyes again, Teddy turned the doorknob and inched it open. It didn't creak. He was about to let out a deep sigh of relief, but stopped himself. It would be stupid to get caught because of a sigh after getting past the indeterminately creaky door.

He crept down the corridor and down the stairs, stepping toe-first so he couldn't thump on the soft carpets. It was a good thing that the stairs were carpeted like the corridor was, because he knew he wasn't graceful enough to walk quietly on hardwood floors for that long.

From there, he could see the front door. Only a few more steps, and he'd be outside.

He couldn't wait. He grabbed his shoes from where they stood near the door, twisted the doorknob open with the same care as he had upstairs, and pushed it open. The sky was dark blue and dotted with stars; the moon was round and unobstructed by clouds.

Teddy knew that, had his dad been alive, he'd be a wolf right now.

The trees on either side of their house rustled as a gust of wind blew through them. Teddy shivered as the air touched him, but he wasn't cold. It was just a small spring breeze, the air was clear and cool, but he didn't miss his jacket.

Teddy waved at the trees as they waved at him, and giggled. It was a full moon, which should have been ominous, but he wasn't scared. The night was welcoming him.

He shoved on the shoes, then stepped off the porch and onto the lawn. The long but even grass was cold around his ankles, as he hadn't put on socks before leaving, but he didn't mind. He moved away from the house, deeper into the dark; but it wasn't dark.

Small lights, like the stars, but brighter and bigger, encircled him. They laughed and playfully buzzed at him and at each other, beckoning him farther and farther from his home.

"Hello!" Teddy grinned at them

He was following them, walking down the road, the dirt rising and falling around his shoes as he sped up and slowed down to keep pace with the fairies. They didn't let him fall behind, so it wasn't hard.

Each one was several inches tall, with wings, and seemed to preen in his presence.

One by one, they flew up to him, grinning and twirling around several times, then flying over to somewhere else to groom themselves.

At last, they reached a clearing. Teddy knew it: he and his grandma came here sometimes to pick flowers; she'd told him once that his mum liked wildflowers, and he liked having full vases of them around the house. She'd like them.

She'd like the fairies, too. So would his dad. So would anyone, with how pretty and cheerful they were. They were welcoming and happy, and Teddy thought that sneaking out had been completely worth it.

"Thanks!" he yelled to the fairies as he watched them fly around each other in elaborate patterns. "That's so cool, I…" He trailed off and covered his mouth with his hands as he yawned. "I love it! I love..." He yawned again, trying not to close his eyes and miss anything they did. "I should go to bed…"

He didn't know how late it was. Harry had promised to get him a watch for his next birthday, and that was in a month, but he had no way of telling time now. It was late—he knew that.

It was time to go home.

"Are you coming with me?" he asked. The fairies buzzed. "You don't have to, but… you brought me here, d'you want to walk me back?"

They buzzed a bit longer, and Teddy yawned a bit more. Eventually, without telling him anything—because they didn't speak English, and Teddy didn't speak their language—they flew back in the direction of the road and Teddy ran to keep up with them until they slowed down.

The fairies led him to where the dirt road met the fence around his house, and he grinned as he waved goodbye. "I'll see you a—"

"Edward Remus Lupin!"

"Grandma!"