For the Non-Romantic Love Competition and the Character Diversity Boot Camp with the prompt: broken
I never write Harry and I don't know if the second person really works but it's what came to me. *shrugs*
You wipe your sweaty hands on your pants before taking a deep breath and knocking on the front door. You don't know why you should be so nervous; it's only tea, after all. Andromeda opens the door and you can sense that she is just as apprehensive as you are, which makes you feel a little better. You follow her inside and you see that the house looks exactly the same, but the atmosphere has changed. There's no one else to greet you except for a mewling sound in the next room, which tells you that Teddy Lupin is awake. And Ted Tonks' cheery presence is clearly missing.
She leads you into the living room and picks up your godson, whispering comforting words to him. You sit awkwardly across from her and meet her eyes and you think this family is like a puzzle that a toddler put together. The big picture isn't clear anymore; pieces are broken while some are missing. And some, like the three of you in the living room, are forced together where they don't belong.
Andromeda seems frail and tired, but she doesn't have time to grieve; there's a baby in the house. You suppose you should offer to take him for a while but you don't know a thing about babies and you didn't bring anyone with you. A part of you wishes Mrs. Weasley had come, but she would probably make a fuss and you have to do this alone. You need to.
You are grateful when Andromeda begins the conversation. You offer your condolences for her loss and she reminds you that it's just as much your loss as it is hers. The tension breaks, and you begin to relax, only for Teddy to start crying again.
"He's hungry," Andromeda says.
"How can you tell?"
"It's what comes from being a mother, I suppose. I just know. Will you?" She walks over to you and holds out the infant for you to take. You cradle him gingerly in the crook of your arm and she nods approvingly at you before going into the kitchen to make up a bottle.
He's so small; all soft skin and turquoise hair and brown eyes like his father's. And in that instant you feel a sense of responsibility for him. Because just as Andromeda knows that he's hungry, you know that one day he's going to grow up and he's going to want to know everything.
He'll want to know about his parents and not the romanticized version of them either. He's going to want to hear about the real Remus and Tonks. And you'll tell him, and he probably won't think too highly of Remus for a while, but you'll be there to set him straight because in the end, it doesn't matter.
He'll ask why his hair turns blue and why people stare. And you won't have a satisfactory answer because you still don't know. All you can say with certainty is that he'll never get used to it.
You'll buy him his first broomstick and you wonder if he's inherited Tonks' clumsiness too and if he'll be any good at Quidditch.
But mostly you wonder if you'll be any good at this.
He's still crying and you suppose you should try talking to him. It worked when Andromeda did it and it seems like the right thing to do. But what do you say to a baby? He doesn't understand. But you start talking anyway and the words come of their own volition.
"Hey, Teddy…" You shake your head at yourself. This doesn't sound right. But you keep going. "You're not so bad…as far as babies go, anyway."
Teddy continues to cry, though softer now and as you reach down to wipe the tears away, he grabs your finger in his tiny fist. It's this thing that babies do that turns your world upside down because even though he's holding onto you, the fact is, he's got you wrapped around his finger and your heart is nothing but a puddle on the floor.
"You are one lucky kid, you know that?" you say. "You've got the best, if not the craziest extended family possible. Mrs. Weasley will spoil you rotten. And I know grandma Tonks will raise you right."
"His godfather's not too bad either," Andromeda says from the doorway.
You feel your cheeks redden as you realize she's been standing there the whole time. "Yeah, well, I learned from the best." You raise the child in your arms as if to pass him back to her, but she shakes her head, hands the bottle to you instead and sits back down in the seat across from you. Teddy takes the bottle eagerly and you look up at Andromeda to see if you're holding it right.
She smiles fondly at you and says the one thing you need to hear as if she can read you just as well as she can read Teddy. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, Harry Potter. You'll be fine."
You grin and look back down at the child in your arms. In this moment, you know that this family is broken and it's not ideal, but it isn't beyond repair. Perhaps the bigger picture isn't clear yet. Perhaps the pieces can learn to fit.
And perhaps Teddy is the glue to keep them together and fill the spaces in between.