This story is going to be mostly HP-centric with the YYH characters playing a minor role until much later. I have messed around with the time lines a little bit, so while this is basically twenty years after the Second Wizarding War the time line for the YYH characters falls just after the victory over Sensui. This is totally incorrect but it's the only way to use both YYH characters and NewGen characters at the same time, so sorry D: To avoid confusing; James is in his seventh year, Rose/Scorpious are in fourth year and Teddy has graduated. Rated M for violence and language in later chapters.
I don't own anything, you know that! D:
Enjoy! 3
-Chapter One-
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James had never been able to understand how such a sullen occasion was expected to inspire anyone. His father had tried to play it off as something of a learning experience, because according to The Great Harry Potter the only way to protect the future was to "respect the past". Frankly, James thought it was a terrible way to begin the school year.
The crowd was loosely dispersed across the open clearing, though many chose to stay huddled in groups of two or three huddled under ordinate umbrellas or impervious charms that seemed to serve the same purpose. The harsh rains had turned the once lush field into a marsh, covering the shoes and robes of those who attended the memorial in thick muddy stains. As James trudged up hill, his heavy wool cloak weighing down against his teenage frame, he felt a twinge of bitterness towards Lily and Albus, who had forgotten their umbrellas and taken his.
Lily stood at the top of the hill, half way up the clearing, tucked under the arm of her older brother. The pair mimicked their parents, who were standing rigidly to their right. James' uncle Ronald had a large muscular hand clamped down on his mother's shoulder, in a boorish attempt to comfort her. James' father Harry had Lily's hand in his own, linking them all together in a massive black chain before a row of glistening white stones.
James had heard the story about the stones more then he wanted to; it had been one of the first acts preformed by the ministry after it had been re-organized. Under pressure from grieving families the ministry had erected a mass gravesite for those who had fallen during the Second Wizarding War. In truth, it was nothing grander then a cleared out patch of forest in the countryside. Originally the plan had to create massive statues in the metropolises of the Wizarding world, but of course Harry Potter had found this idea childish and insulting. He, along with a gang of supporters, had talked the ministry into creating the little sanctuary that James was dragged to every year before catching the Hogwarts Express. James loved how his father always failed to mention that the ministry was far too cheap at the time to ever follow through with their original idea.
James had nearly rejoined his family when a tug on his shirtsleeve pulled him a few steps backwards. Teddy Lupin stood behind him, his short beryl hair slicked back in the rain. His once crisp dress shirt was now soaked through completely, his pale chest gleaming under the useless fabric. Teddy had a large brown parcel cradled gingerly in one arm.
Wordlessly James removed his robe, grimacing as it peeled off like a second skin, and passed it to his god-brother. The robe fit decently seeing as James was almost the same as Teddy, though it was a few inches too short in the sleeves to be considered fashionable. Teddy grumbled his thanks, shifting the cloak over his shoulders so it would better hid his exposed chest.
"Shouldn't you be with Victoire?"
"She's alright; she's got Bill and Fleur"
James looked over in the direction that Teddy had nodded towards and true to his word there was Victoire with her parents, gathered with Ron, Ginny and Harry. Bill had lost some of his muscular build but managed to maintain his size and stood squarely over his extended family. Fleur had her arms flung tightly and around her daughter and was sobbing into her hair in an artificial, hiccupy kind of way. James sighed, loudly.
"I meant; shouldn't she be over here looking after you?"
There was an awkward silence in which Teddy lowered his eyes. The twenty-two-year-old ran a hand through his hair, pushing plump streamlets of water down his neck. Flecks of candy-colored hair scattered about his face, sticking to his forehead. James liked to think that while Teddy had most of his mother's spirit, the young man had inherited a fair bit of Remus' looks.
"About that…I was hoping you would come with me this year."
Over come by a mix of honor and shock, James followed Teddy silently, mouth hanging open unceremoniously.
They moved over a dirt path that had been transformed into a mudslide by the afternoon storm. They darted between wizards and witches, all wet, all dressed in black, all with their heads bent. They passed row upon row of white marble some actual graves while others were merely ornamental markers. James had to stretch forward, clutching Teddy's hand to avoid loosing him. Teddy's grip was exceptionally firm.
James didn't let go of Teddy's hand when they stopped, awkwardly returning the fierce squeeze, wet fingers sliding together in a fight to maintain friction. From the corner of his eyes James could see the veins popping against the back of Teddy's hands.
Teddy's eyes were locked forward, clearly red even in the darkness of the storm. James stomach twisted in a sudden bout of pity for the man. He wished he could feel sympathy but he had never known any of them, wouldn't have known them…
Teddy removed the package from under his arm while the same time reached into James robe to retrieve his wand. He tapped the package twice, its brown wrappings crunching sharply each time. The paper began to break apart into a fine powder, disappearing before it had the chance to hit the ground, to reveal a bouquet of baby pink roses. They were tied together with a delicate pink ribbon.
As if his joints had rusted stiff Teddy bent towards the earth to place the flowers on his mother's grave, the way he had since he was old enough to walk. Only this time, James noticed, the flowers were not alone. Below the headstone, which read "Nymphadora Tonks; loving friend, mother and wife", was a single rose. Its petals were drooping and trapped under the mud, turned from a creamy off pink to a dirty coffee stain color. Teddy plucked it up gingerly, slipping it into the bouquet next to his own flowers before placing it back at the base of the head stone.
As Teddy rose to his feet they both turned to see that Remus Lupin's grave had not been ignored. In fact, it appeared that someone had planted a homogeneous garden at the base of Remus' tombstone. The plants were planted in a small square, with thick leaves that resembled basil. Red blooms were scattered in the growth, each with five pointed petals that formed stars around what look to James like a small glass bead in the center of the flower. Slender vines had started to creep up the headstone, red petals just beginning to peak shyly from their buds.
James starred at Teddy questioningly but couldn't manage to catch his eye. Teddy was placing a letter in the small space between the plants and his father's head stone.
James didn't keep track of the minutes, but they stood there for the longest time. They just stood, leaning against each other and ignoring the occasional bumps from passers by. Both watched as the letter began to wilt, blank ink bleeding through the once starch white envelope.
"They'd..." James started to speak but had to stop momentarily as he conquered a stinging in his throat. "They'd be proud."
James kept his eyes on the letter, but he could hear the whimper as Teddy swallowed his sobs.
***
That night, James had never been so happy to hear the sound of a glass slamming against a wooden table top, or to see the foaming orangey liquid sloshing over the edges of the mug. When he drank, it felt like the liquid went from his mouth to his toes, warming every inch of his freezing body.
The Three Broom Sticks was loud and crowded, something not unusual for the night following the memorial. It had become a sort of tradition for Wizarding families to usher their children out the graveyard and then usher them back for a night at the Three Broom Sticks before catching the Hogwarts express the next day. James was no exception. He was seated at a crowded table, wedged in between his cousin, Rose, and Uncle Percy. Albus and Lilly had long ago been sent to bed. The mix of Potters and Weasleys were all chattering loudly; some laughing and some sobbing but all enthusiastically drinking their fire whiskies. James paid little attention to the conversation; focusing more on the crowd that passed to and fro from the bar. Last year he had managed to spot Kingsley Shacklebolt and hold down a conversation that wasn't nauseatingly nostalgic.
This year's crowd was far less exciting. He spotted Grindel Godira, author of Gardening with Grumbumbles, but James could care less about her.The only person of interest that James had seen all night was a women who's fox-fur muffler had the nasty habit of biting passers by, and that was nearly a half hour ago.
Scanning the crowd for particularly pretty girls James noticed a hunched figure moving the ocean of mourners. As the man passed within reasonable distance to one of the tavern's floating lanterns he recognized the man instantly. It was Harmon Lovell, the cemetery's grounds keeper. Every year he crawled down from the hills at this time, scamming free drinks off of overly emotional witches and wizards. Since he was a child Teddy Lupin had started writing letters to his father, one per year, which he left upon the grave before going to Hogwarts. James had never understood it, but he had developed a great hatred for Lovell when he caught him reading Teddy's letter three years ago. To James' distain, Lovell was making a bee-line for their table.
Harry greeted Lovell with brotherly embrace; Harry didn't know about Teddy's letters. Harmon Lovell was a man wiry man, with thin limbs and bony joints that made his rather plump stomach seem even larger. A white beard covered most of his waxy face and most of his clothes were speckled with dirt. James slid down in his chair, eyes narrowing to glare at the table. He flitted in and out of the discussion, only paying attention when he heard Lovell question Teddy.
"That was a very nice thing you did, Theodore, very nice indeed."
Teddy pulled his head off the table, blood shot eyes moving slowly to find Harmon's face. He squinted, wrinkled his nose and took a deep breath before speaking.
"I swear to god Lovell, if you're here to make fun of my le-"
"Oh Merlin's beard, no, no, no," Harmon shouted rather excitedly, slamming his fist on the table with each no, " I'm talking about the flowers."
"Oh, well…I always bring flowers." Teddy seemed disappointed that there wasn't going to be an argument.
"Aye, but planting 'em this year were a good idea."
Teddy's eyebrows twitched upwards, a shiver of silver running through his hair momentarily. He reached a hand up and began to rub his face. It was obvious that he was tired and growing annoyed with Lovell's nonsense.
"I didn't plant any flowers."
"We'll you must'a. When I locked the gates last night there were no flowers. I go to lock the gates tonight and lo' and behold; Remus' got his own bloody garden. Who else woulda done that, ye' reckon?"
Teddy a took a large swig of his fire whisky before stating firmly;
"I didn't plant any flowers."