Teddy sat on his bed in his grandmother's house with his packed bag on his lap. He had had enough. He was thirteen years old and he was tired of her treating him like he was five. He wasn't too young or delicate like she had convinced herself. He was old enough and strong enough to know about his parents. Real stuff, real stories, how they had died. Uncle Harry understood, he always told Teddy the truth and answered his questions. Grandmum either ignored him or acted as if he had misbehaved.
He had always known that he was welcome in Uncle Harry's home, even Aunt Ginny made sure that he knew that he was loved. Their kids were like his siblings and he knew they would all accept him and make a permanent place for him. He already had his own room at their house, had it before James was even born. They hadn't shoved him aside when they had their own babies, either, they merely added on more rooms.
Yes, he was ready to leave his grandmother's lonely, quiet house, and live in the loud, sometimes-messy home of his godfather. He stood, slung his bag over his shoulder, and took a deep, settling breath.
"Teddy?" Andromeda called from the lounge.
Now was the time to tell her; he would be brave like Uncle Harry, like his parents. He walked slowly to the couch she sat on. He opened his mouth to be direct with her. And then, he saw the pictures surrounding her; pictures of his mother as a baby all the way up until the one of her holding him with his father kissing her pink hair. He had that one framed; it was in his bag along with all of his other important possessions.
"Look at her," she cried, hugging a picture to her chest. "She was so beautiful."
"Don't cry, Grandmum," Teddy said softly, sliding his bag gently to the floor. Later…he would tell her later.
The End.