This will be a 20-chapter story about Teds first year after Hogwarts. Mostly written with editing done when I have the time! so hopefully chapters will be up fairly quickly. Reviews are very much appreciated.

Ted was exhausted. His bones ached, his head was swimming and the skin on his arms was raw. Despite wearing a thick woolen jumper to bed he had picked and scratched at his forearms during the night. The jumper itched and tugged at the raised skin, a constant reminder of his own failures.

He manoeuvred himself out of bed and peeled his clothes off carefully. His stomach too was scratched and sore, but only his arms were bloody and swollen where he had digged his fingernails in most harshly. Sighing heavily, Ted dragged himself into the shower and mentally prepared himself for the stinging pain that would follow.

The full moon had always been rough for him, but as he grew older it only seemed to worsen. Although not technically a werewolf he responded badly to the lunar cycle. Anxiety, depression, insomnia. On the nights he did sleep he had awful nightmares, every deeply buried fear and insecurity haunted him through dark. The nights he didn't sleep Ted bit and scratched at himself until he bled, never realising he had done so until he would see the results in the clarity that came with the sunrise.

It was a ghastly habit he'd have hoped to have grown out of by now. As a child he had attended St Mungo's eighteen times before his fifth birthday. Every time the healers and 'specialists' had told his Grandmother the same thing over and over - it would get better. When?

The night before had been a particularly bad one, the worst since he had been fifteen and sitting his OWL exams. He didn't like to think about that night much. The added anxiety of the moon had induced what he could only describe as a meltdown, sobbing in an abandoned classroom with Victoire. The resulting panic attack had terrified her as much as it had him, but at least she forgave him much sooner than he had forgiven himself.

It was the first night home at his Grandmother's. The day before he had sat through the graduation ceremony at Hogwarts with a fixed fake smile on his face attempting to hide the panic rising inside his chest. His family and friends who had congratulated him on his success had all asked the same question: What was next? He'd woken every few hours through the night with the same question, the same reoccurring thought, reminded that in the morning he had no idea what he was going to do with his life. He would get up, eat breakfast shower and then...what?

Whilst his friends were applying for jobs at the Ministry Ted had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. This was not an easy concept for him, he had always had to know what was next and had always had a backup plan. He had hoped he'd been able to come up with something by now, every day of his education had been counting down to the day he could start a career, earn some money and make a name for himself. But doing what? He had no focus, no lifelong dream to fall back on.

Deciding he had put the day off long enough he dried himself carefully and dressed for breakfast. His arms felt better now that they had been washed with the clean water, but they were still swollen and sore. Dragging himself down the stairs and taking a glance through the window at the back garden he thought bitterly that the day was too beautiful for his anxious and miserable state. He could see his Grandmother tending to the vegetable patch she had so lovingly raised, a hobby of his Grandfathers she had kept up since his death. A living tribute to his memory. Ted watched her through the window as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. A moment later she saw him and waved. He forced a smile in return.

One thing at a time, he decided, facing the reality of his day. He sat at the kitchen table, staring at his cereal bowl. He wondered how long he could stretch out washing it. Two minutes, maybe, if he was meticulous? He wondered what else in the kitchen he could wash, what jobs he could do to keep his mind busy. There was always a job to be done, he could ask his Grandmother…

Andromeda entered the kitchen, her knees and hands covered in soil and clutching a basket of freshly plucked broad beans. She kissed his cheek, he knew how happy she was to have him home, and how lonely she was in the big house without him. She told him every time he returned, he supposed it was to make him feel welcomed and loved. It only made him feel guilty for leaving.

"Hello Darling." She began to wash the dirt from the vegetables. "What have you got planned for the day?"

Trying to contain a freak-out, he thought, but shrugged at her vaguely instead. What she was really asking was 'what did he have scheduled for the rest of his life?' He hadn't communicated his anxiety over his lack of plans and she and Harry had both been patient, if a little concerned, that he was yet to reveal what they probably thought was some grand master plan.

"I thought I might go see the kids," he decided aloud. The chaos that came with visiting the three Potter children would distract him for a few hours until night fell and he was forced to deal with the full moon again. Night one of three, he reminded himself. This time tomorrow he would be nearly done for another month.

Ted was not normally an anxious person, nor was he angry or irritable. But when he hit his 'time of the month', as Victoire he had taken to calling it, the three days in the lunar cycle when the moon was full and he was bothered the most. Whatever emotion he was feeling was amplified ten-fold, and it brought out an ugly side to Ted.

The first few months he and Victoire had started dating he had been a ball of nervous energy, happier than he had ever been in his life. The first Moon he had bounced around his room, crying and laughing hysterically. Worried that he was going to seriously hurt himself Harry had been forced to knock him out with a sleeping draft, something they had always agreed should not be an option due to the lethargic effect it tended to have on him for days after. He remembered very little of that cycle, only a hazy memory of being sick and sleeping through the day. They'd not tried that method again since.

A brown postal owl flew through the open window, paused for a second on the kitchen table for Andromeda to untie the bundle of letters around its leg and left quickly. Ted felt a tug at that. In one week the post would come carrying with it his NEWT results and then that would be it, he would be forced to decide on a path. He felt his chest tighten and his mouth become dry, the panic threatening to control him. He looked towards the open window at the wide open space and the beautiful day outside and forced himself to take several deep breaths, trying to remember the strategies Victoire had researched. It didn't help.

"Hmm." Andromeda was turning an envelope over in her hands, staring at the seal on the back. "Teddy, you've got a letter here."

It bore the stamp and seal of the Ministry of Magic. He stared at it, confused. Teddy hadn't applied for any jobs at the Ministry and it wasn't normal to receive a letter of congratulations after graduation. She passed him it eagerly.

Ted slipped a finger between the fold until the seal snapped. The parchment inside was pristine. The top right corner help the stamp for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and he read over it once, Andromeda appeared interested and hopeful at his shoulder.

"What the hell…" Ted turned the short letter over. "Dear Mr. Lupin," he read, "Congratulations on your recent graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am writing to inform you that you are due to register with this Department in regards to your condition (lycanthropy) and request that you immediately attend a meeting...Gran...?"

Andromeda snatched the letter from him, reading it aloud herself. Ted's breathing had become short. He wasn't a werewolf, why was he being called to register? He had been lucky, he knew, not to have inherited the condition. He suffered terribly from the cycle but he had never made the full transformation. And for all his mood changes he was never violent to anyone but himself.

"This is nonsense!" Andromeda snapped. "This must be a mistake. I'm going to call Harry."

Before he could respond, to tell her not to bother, she was gone, yelling into the fireplace for Harry's office at the Ministry. He knew it'd get through, their fireplace was one of the few direct links approved to the Auror office.

An hour later Ted was sat in the office for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creature: 'Beast' division. Despite werewolves technically being classed as 'beings' for the majority of the month it was this department that dealt with registration.

He had dressed in his finest robes, hair turned a boring but professional brown and shorter than he normally wore it. Andromeda sat beside him, seething, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Where there was normally a soft loveliness to her, today she appeared sharp. Ted had seen pictures of the woman who had killed his mother, Bellatrix Black, and had previously refused to see a likeness to his Grandmother but in this light, this situation, it was not hard to acknowledge the resemblance. He swallowed the lump in his throat and stared straight ahead, not wanting to see.

Harry came storming down the hall and into the waiting area, his normally easy going and relaxed features set in anger. Ted wasn't used to seeing him like that and apparently the Ministry workers who greeted him cheerfully weren't either. He ignored them entirely, his eyes set on his Godson. This was the last thing dark wizards saw, Ted imagined, just before they were cursed into oblivion or carted off to Azkaban.

Immediately Harry settled into the seat beside him and his face softened in concern. Gently he placed a flat palm onto Ted's wrist where he had been pulling at the skin with his fingernails without realising, a too familiar habit these days, and pulled from his pocket a clean handkerchief which he pressed onto the bloodied skin. Harry didn't say anything, he knew and understood that when the full moon blossomed Ted was rarely aware of his own actions, and never once had he been punished or accused doing it for attention.

Awkwardly, Ted pulled the cuff of his jacket down over the wound to hide it from anyone who might see. The last thing he needed was the Ministry to see how affected he was by the moon and assume he was the werewolf they suspected him to be. The blood flecked at the cuff edge.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ted started, his voice strangled and high. He swallowed. "I know you were working-"

He was cut off. "Nothing is too important that it comes before you, Ted." He smiled, but it was tight, and it was easy to spot the worry beneath it. "We'll get this sorted out."

Ted nodded, unable to speak. This was not how he imagined his first day in the adult world to be.

A harassed looking woman with hair falling from the bun on top of her head glanced up from her desk. "Lupin," she announced. When Ted took a few seconds too long to rise, she glared irritably at the small crowd. "Lupin."

"Y-yes." Ted approached her, grateful for Andromeda and Harry two steps behind him.

"Meeting room four," she said, moving his file from one pile to another. It seemed an endless job. When the adults made to follow, she held out a hand to stop them. "The registry is to go alone, please."

Ted looked back at them desperately. Harry looked between him and the receptionist. There was no getting around it, the woman explained he was a legal of-age wizard and therefore responsible for his own registration.

Harry nodded to him, but he looked furious. "We'll be right here, Ted. We'll be right outside. Go and explain."

Even though he knew he was of legal age and should be responsible for his own future, Ted didn't feel like an adult at all. As he shuffled down the corridor he had to remind himself to hold his head high. He was eighteen. He was not a coward. He was the son of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, two of the greatest heroes of their time.

He felt like a frightened four year old.

Meeting room four was a closet of a room with a single desk with two chairs either side of it. He waited for several minutes, shifting from foot to foot, glancing between the chairs and the door. Should he sit? He sat, shuffling in his seat.

It took a full twelve minutes for the registrations officer to arrive, during which time Ted had listened to his own laboured breathing and succeeded in not throwing up. The man clutched a sheaf of documents and a quill, but nothing else. The parchment scattered across the desk as he sat but they didn't appear to be in any particular order to begin with. He was short, scruffy and bald. He took a second to rearrange the papers before addressing the younger man.

"Edward Remus Lupin?" He asked, marking off the name with his quill before Ted could respond.

He nodded, but the man wasn't watching. "Father Remus John Lupin and mother Nym...Nime…"

Ted interrupted helpfully, "Nymphadora Tonks. Excuse me, but I think there's been a mistake…"

The officer waved a hand, having heard it all before. "State your date of birth and place of residence."

Ted did so. "But I'm not a werewolf," he added. "I don't know why I'm here."

The man glanced at his files. "You are the son of Remus John Lupin, registered werewolf?"

"Well, yes, but-"

The man simply stared at him and in the silence, as though that settled the matter, and Ted took the opportunity to continue talking. "My Dad was a werewolf, but I'm not." More silence. Ted persisted. "I don't transform at the full moon," he pointed out obviously.

The man rolled his eyes and began to scribble onto the parchment. Ted, sure the matter had been resolved, let out the breath he had been holding whilst watching him and relaxed back in his seat. Perhaps it was going to be okay after all.

"Regardless, Mr. Lupin," he said. "Of whether you transform fully at the full moon or not, you are considered to be a category three lycanthrope and should be kept under observation." He scribbled something else on the papers.

"I don't understand," Ted began. "Category three?"

He sighed irritably, "Category one: lycanthrope from birth. Category two: lycanthrope due to infection." The little man stared straight into his eyes. "Category three: carrying the bloodline, shows some symptoms at the moon" - his eyes flicked to Ted's wrists and he hid them guiltily under his arms - "and therefore should be kept under observation." He shuffled the papers under his arm. "Please keep us informed of any changes in employment, address or marital status, Mr. Lupin." He stood, and Ted followed obediently. "We strongly suggest you don't mate with another carrier and please alert your future employers of your condition. Not doing so will gain you at best a hefty fine and at worst imprisonment. You can pick up your documents at the front desk, Imelda will be preparing them for you now."

He opened the door to let the younger man out, but Ted stood his ground. This wasn't how it was meant to go! He wasn't leaving. His legs couldn't move if he wanted them to. "That's it?" he managed. "You're just putting me on the register? I'm not even a werewolf!"

"A leaflet will be provided alongside your documents explaining the policies and relevant legislation that apply to you, Mr. Lupin."

His head was fuzzy. A leaflet? The biggest decision of his life would be explained with a leaflet? He felt the need to growl as he passed the registration officer but felt that it wouldn't help his 'I'm not an animal' case. He felt sick as he shuffled into the lobby but noticed with satisfaction that his Grandmother was screaming at the terrified receptionist who was now being reinforced by two Ministry workers. Normally, he'd have sympathised with the woman, but not today. Harry's mouth was set into a grim line, not disagreeing or stopping the woman but still trying to remain professional. It would have mattered, Andromeda was doing all the necessary talking and was doing a fine job of arguing his case.

When Ted approached she ceased her yelling and they looked to him for confirmation that all was sorted. Not knowing what to tell them or how he could explain he looked towards the silent receptionist who extended a shaking hand. He took the documents and aforementioned leaflet and walked numbly towards the exit. He needed to be as far away from the office, from those people, as possible.

The hallway was too long, too stuffy. The anxiety Ted had been feeling since the night before spilled over in a rush of panic. The jobs and careers he could no longer pursue muddled in his brain - no one would hire him when he was on the werewolf register, regardless of the category. He thought of his father, bouncing from job to job, struggling to make ends meet. And Victoire! How foolish he had been to enter a relationship with her without thinking of his father's affliction. The advice the registration officer had given him rattled through his thoughts, "we strongly suggest you don't mate with another carrier". He knew her father was affected by the full moon and still he had never connected the dots, never considered that the life they had planned together would not be possible.

His chest was on fire, his breathing short, his vision constricted and dark. He searched desperately for an exit, turned on the spot to apparate but nothing happened.

And then Harry was there, pinning him in place, his eyes on his to center him. "Ted," he said calmly, but it sounded far away and fuzzy. "Ted, deep breaths. Look at me. Deep breaths." A hand was placed on the back of his head, reassuring and cool to his sweating skin.

Ted did was he was told, but the breaths were strangled and forced. He looked towards his Godfather through blurry eyes and he realised he was crying. Ted did the only thing he could think of and leant towards him. Harry, easily six inches shorter than him, took him in his arms and let him cry like he had done when he was a child.

"We'll get it sorted. It'll be okay." He consoled him and Ted felt the panic beginning to subside. He was starting to breath again and he gulped in air, his heart beginning to slow but his hands still shaking. "It's going to be okay," Harry said again as Ted rocked forward, feeling foolish but needing the comfort all the same.

How? He kept repeating to himself. How could this possibly be okay?

…..

The letter was smoothed out on Hermiones desk, creased and torn from where Ted had pressed it into his palm. As one they ignored the small fingerprints dotting the page with blood in the corner, carried over from the open wounds up his forearm.

They'd caught Hermione on her lunch break, and they sat waiting for her opinion as she read and re-read the document first, and then the letter that accompanied it, barely glancing at the worthless leaflet.

Ted clutched a sugary cup of tea between his hands and focused on not passing out. They had all assured him that it would be a great help.

"Well it's legal, but entirely unjust," she finally said, her nose scrunched. "You're category three regulated, which in a legal point of view means you're of no harm to anyone, but honestly people just see 'Lycanthropy' and are likely to dismiss you without further explanation." She smiled sympathetically at Ted, who tried to return it shakily. "I'm sorry this happened to you, Teddy. We tried to fight the registry years ago, but the war didn't exactly help peoples views of werewolves." She slid the papers across the table towards him and picked up the leaflet. "You're the first case I've heard of in twenty years that's been placed on the registry without actually having the disease, often the child of a werewolf has the disease as well."

That caught his attention. "I'm the first in twenty years?" he said, his voice sounding unlike his own. "How is that possible?"

Hermione shrugged. "I suspect your mother had a lot to do with it, being a metamorphmagus. We don't really understand the condition and how it works, but it's fascinating really-"

Harry held up a hand to stop her before she continued down another "it's fascinating really" train of thought and wouldn't stop talking for an hour, as she was so prone to do. "How can we get Teddy off the register?" he asked.

She shook her head sadly. "There's no short-term solution or loophole, I'm afraid. We can fight it in court, but that will take months, and it's not a sure thing we'll win." She smiled at him again reassuringly. "Of course if you want me to I'll represent you in court. I can get the proceedings started this afternoon."

Ted appreciated that, knowing how busy Hermione was. He did his best to look grateful, but he wasn't sure how appreciative he appeared when all he could think was that his life was falling apart around him.

With the promise that he would keep her updated with any more developments they thanked Hermione and left. The group was silent as they approached the lobby of the Ministry. He knew Harry had wasted the morning to accompany him and no doubt his Grandmother was considering cancelling her shift at the hospital as well. He didn't want to take up any more of their time with an impossible task. He could hear them whispering behind him, Harry was insisting he could take the day off for her to make her shift.

"I'm going to take a long walk, clear my head." He announced to them both. He had intended it to sound adult-like and calm but his voice cracked almost immediately. As an afterthought he added, "thank you for standing up for me today. Please don't take time off for my sake."

He didn't miss their worried glance to each other as he apparated from the lobby and into the Leaky Cauldron. He considered for a long moment getting a pint, lord knows he deserved one, but instead cross through the pub and into Diagon Alley. He made the short walk down the street towards Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. In the sunshine the bright orange shop front was near painful to look at and the constant movement in the window display made him feel dizzy and sick.

Ted had worked for George and Ron Weasley for the past two summers, stocking shelves and assembling products to gain experience and earn a little money. The job had been long hours and exhausting, but never once had he had a dull shift. When you worked for people who excelled in making other people happy it was hard to be miserable.

Ron was serving customers at the front of the shop when he entered. "Hello Teddy," he said surprised to see him. "I didn't realise it was the summer holidays already." He glanced around the shop. "That would explain the increase in children…"

Ted forced a tight smile. Normally he'd have appreciated the humour. "Is George around?"

"Out the back, just let yourself in."

He manoeuvred around the unpredictable shop floor and towards the rear of the shop that led to the stock rooms and the office above. He climbed the stairs and knocked out of courtesy before opening the door to find George fiddling with a small object at his desk.

He grinned immediately. "Teddy! It's good to see you, what brings you around?"

Ted shifted from foot to foot. He hoped the professional-looking robes and boring hair wouldn't put George off what he wanted to ask him. "I'm looking for a job," he finally managed. "If you'll have me back."

George looked confused.

Ted didn't want to insult George by trying to convince him that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was his first choice of career. The whole family knew that Ted would be aiming high. His Grandmother and Harry had instilled in him a strong work ethic from a young age and his intelligence and thirst for knowledge had only proved to them all that he would someday achieve something wonderful. George wasn't stupid, he knew this wasn't Teddy's ideal choice for a career. But it was possible that his was the only company who would willingly hire him.

Reluctantly Ted pulled the documents the ministry had assigned him from his robes. Better to be up front, he thought. "My options are limited right now," he explained, handing him the parchment. He had never been more ashamed. He felt as though he was admitting to some terrible crime.

George frowned, but accepted the documents. He read them over quickly, and realisation stirred on his face. "Oh, Teddy…"

The pity in his eyes didn't help how Ted was feeling. His throat became tight again.

"You've always got a job here if you want it." George held up the documents in his hand. "But these are crap. Whatever the Ministry has you labelled as you're better than that." He passed them back to him. "Your father never let it hold him back and neither should you."

And what use did that do for him? he thought. Despite his father's constant attempts to hold down a full time job not even Hogwarts could offer a sanctuary for him in the end. Ted had no war to escape to, no hero's death to be remembered by. He would live the life his Father never had the chance to finish: an unappreciated talent wasting away in a hermit's life.

With the agreement that he would start the following day he left, nodding to Ron as he past the threshold into the street. With nothing left to do with his day he apparated home to an empty house and went to bed.