A/N: This story will get progressively darker and will deal with themes such as mental illness, self-harm, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, and drug use among other things.

Chapter One

"I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die and get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. " – "Daddy" Sylvia Plath

Teddy rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. Harry was lecturing him again, not that he should've been surprised. Harry was always nit-picking him, and had been for sixteen bloody years. "You're a smart kid, Teddy," Harry sighed. Teddy resisted the urge to stand up and walk away. He hated being called a kid. He was sixteen, not six. "I don't understand why you're failing half your classes."

Teddy remained silent. There was no way in hell he was going to say anything remotely near the truth. He could just picture how bloody well that one would go. Harry sighed and sat down across from the teen. "What's going on?"

"Rough term," Teddy tried to shrug it off. He didn't know why he bothered anymore. His godfather could see right through him. In his defense, it had been a rough term. Just not academically or in ways he wanted anyone to know about. "Shouldn't you be lecturing your own kids?" he questioned after a moment.

"You know you're as good as mine," Harry sighed.

"Still not yours though," Teddy glared at him. "Meaning you have no room to lecture me about anything."

"I do as long as you live here," Harry argued. The transition had been rough on Teddy. He'd come home, back when home was with his grandmother, for the summer after his third year, and Andromeda had passed away in her sleep not a week later.

"Well if it were up to me, I wouldn't be living here," Teddy snapped and stood up. He'd been so angry and depressed since the incident, and since before that really. Except not all the time. Sometimes he would be so elated it was terrifying. But he hadn't had one of those days in a long time.

"Yelling at me won't bring them back," Harry said gently. Teddy shook his head and tried to walk away, but Harry stopped him.

"Just leave me the hell alone," Teddy jerked away from his godfather and headed up to his room. He'd gotten lucky in that respect. James and Albus had to share, but he and Lily each got their own room. Some days he was willing to swear Lily was the only reason he even bothered with the Potters anymore. He loved the kids, but Harry and Ginny were driving him up a wall.

So what if he'd failed half his classes and barely managed to pass the others? So what if he skipped half of his classes to get drunk or high or meet up with whoever the hell he was shagging that week (or on some occasions, that day)? None of it mattered anyway. "You're the example, Teddy," he heard Harry's voice in his head.

Teddy sighed and lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hated breaks from school, though he knew he had no reason to. He should have been happy, and had every reason to be. "You acting out like this is a pretty poor way to repay your parents." Why should he have even cared about his parents? They left him. They didn't care. They were too concerned with going out and fighting than they were with their son. He didn't owe them a damned thing

Sometimes he thought being a metamorphmagus was a godsend. He may have looked like his parents naturally, but he could change that. But he hated that it reminded him of his mother, or at least the stories he'd heard about her. Not to mention it brought him more problems at school than he'd ever admit to. Or tell Harry about.

He'd been bullied mercilessly from the minute he'd stepped foot in Hogwarts. Kids had a nasty way of singling out the one most different from the group. He'd been lucky there with the blue and bronze hair he'd chosen to commemorate his sorting into Ravenclaw. He was a "freak" as long as he could remember. At least until his classmates insults improved and he was called things he wouldn't dare repeat, for fear of loss of limb. "Just do the world a favor and throw yourself off the astronomy tower."

He groaned when he heard a knock at the door. "Teddy?" a young female voice asked, Lily naturally. Begrudgingly, he got up and opened the door.

"You stole my hoodie," Teddy observed. Lily had a nasty habit of stealing his shirts. She always said she liked them because they were long enough to be dresses on her.

"It's warm," the nine-year-old shrugged. "Are you okay? I heard Dad going off on you."

"Yeah, just fine," Teddy sighed. It was his safe answer, the one everyone just took and didn't question, the one he was expected to be. Sometimes he wondered if he'd be better off taking the astronomy tower suggestion.