Chapter 1: Age 0

Teddy Lupin was fearless: oh, yes he was. He was fearless and brave, just like he'd told his Godfather: one Harry Potter. Another blood curdling scream pierced the air, and Teddy's turquoise hair turned snow-white to match the rest of his face. He threw a panicked look at his Uncle Ron who sat on his right (and sent a pained grimace in his direction, by way of reassurance), and sidled closer.

Harry had promised that everything was just fine, that Ginny would be absolutely OK, his new godbrother was just going to be making a little bit of a fuss coming into the world. He let out the breath that he'd been subconsciously holding in, colour racing back into his hair as he did: after all, Harry knew every-

"DAMN YOU HARRY POTTER! IF YOU DARE COME NEAR ME EVER AGAIN, I'LL RIP YOUR-"

"Silencio!" Ron hastily jabbed his wand at the doorway, cutting off his little sister's voice. Or at least, the voice he deduced was his sister's by a process of simple elimination: if he didn't know any better, he'd have cheerfully wagered that it was the monster from the Muggle movie Hermione had made him watch yelling in there. What was it called again? Oh yeah, The Escapist.

He turned when he heard the smallest of sniffles from the little boy beside him, who was probably thinking his beloved Godmother was being devoured alive by a werewolf. He leant forward to make a joke on exactly those very lines, and had already opened his mouth before he remembered with a sick lurch in his gut that Teddy's dad had been a werewolf himself.

God, he was terrible with kids. (In his head, Hermione made a pfft of derision, bushy hair flipping indignantly behind her as she left).

Bloody hell. Out of all the Weasley siblings, and their spouses and their spouses's families running around like mad hatters around The Burrow, of course it just had to be him who had been assigned to babysit Teddy.

He loved the kid, he really did. The 5 year old was sweet, funny and thoughtful and absolutely such a delight to watch over; but...well, terrified kids had never really been his forte.

Honestly, what had mum and Ginny been thinking!

"It's tradition to always have the first child of a generation here at home, dear," Molly Weasley had said, "it's been that way ever since there've been Weasleys."

"It'd be so special to welcome the little darling into the world in the very place I grew up, Mum; you know how much this place means to me," a very pregnant Ginny had chimed right in, narrowing her eyes at Harry for a fraction of a second as he'd made to protest.

Women, Ron mentally shrugged, right, barking mad-

"Uncle Ron?" Teddy had apparently gotten over the worst of his terror, because traces of pink had started to ghost over his hair, blossoming from his roots and threading their way towards the tips.

"Yeah?"

"Why is the baby hurting Ginny so much?"

"It's all right, Teddy, really. All babies are like that when they're...ah, when they're coming out. It's not, well, it isn't something you need to worry about. I'm sure you did the same too when you were born."

The toddler blanched at the words. "I hurt mum too?"

With a horrible sinking feeling, Ron watched as Teddy's eyes got huge and moist. "Is t-that w-why she l...left?"

Oh sweet Merlin, Harry and Ginny were going to roast him alive with Fiendfyre after this.

"No no no no no." In a trice, Ron was off his seat and on his knees; level with the little boy. "Don't ever think that, Teddy, your mum never left you, she was taken, she...she would never have gone away from you if she'd had a choice!"

Please don't get me killed, please don't get me killed, please don't get me killed, please-

"OK."

It never ceased to amaze him how quickly 5 year olds in general could go from heartbroken to little miniature balls of sunshine in the space of a few seconds. In any case, Ron wasn't one to question small mercies.

"So how long till the baby gets here?"

This at least, was a question Ron could answer without unleashing more trauma on the kid.

"Well, the midwife and your Grandma Weasley did say that the contractions were coming closer together the last time I spoke to them, and that was over forty five minutes ago, so it can't be more than half an hour now."

Teddy didn't have the slightest idea what a contraction was, and something told him that he really didn't want to find out. At any rate, he gave Ron a sudden grin and nodded.

Half an hour...so that was just half as long as an hour...An hour was as long as he had to spend with Ginny learning his multiplication tables every day, so half as long would be...would be...

(Teddy's face screwed up his face in concentration as he tried to work out how long a half hour was, his hair changing into a warm, sandy brown; what Ginny called his "thinking colour")

Ron, having ascertained that Teddy wasn't going to go doom him to a painful death anytime soon had reoccupied his chair beside the boy, slinging an arm around the diminutive shoulders.

"Excited to be a godbrother then?"

Teddy rubbed the bridge of his nose as he considererd the question. "Well...," he drew the word out, buying time, before continuing, "Harry did say he might not always get to read to me every night like he used to; not for sometime at least.

"But," and Teddy's hair brightened to a garish shade of orange, "Ginny says that she really needs my help with the baby. She said that," his voice dropped a few notches, as if he feared being overheard, and gave a small giggle, "if Harry's left alone with the baby, he might drop it."

In the end, Teddy Remus Lupin's very own godbrother turned out to be a dash more fussy than Molly or the midwife had anticipated. It was another full two hours before he'd deemed the time ripe to enter the world: Ginny's labour lasting a rather gruelling three hours; three hours, which the wilful, young mother had ensured the equally young father wouldn't forget in a hurry. After all, she reasoned, he'd had half the credit in getting her pregnant in the first place, it was only fitting that he'd get to share the 'festivities'. As it was, she had more than enough 'joy', if one were to use that term rather, erm, loosely; to go around.

Stinging hexes, as it turned out, were quite amenable to being cast even without the luxury of a wand.

Both man and child had dozed off-Teddy with his head squished against Ron's side, mouth hanging open slightly- by the time the door of the makeshift "Delivery Room" (in actuality, it used to be Fred and George's room back when all the Weasley children lived in The Burrow. Back when the phrase, Fred and George had been a daily litany at the household, instead of a bitter-sweet afterthought) had opened, a harried Hermione peeking out from within the room; face breaking into a smile as she spied her husband and quasi-nephew.

"Ron? Teddy?" She called out softly, her smile brightening a shade more as they stirred; first in alarm, and then in barely contained excitement as they saw Hermione's expression.

In the distance, the church of St. Ottery Catchpole tolled, heralding the Witching Hour.

The first thing Teddy saw after being ushered inside by Hermione was Ginny propped up on a huge double bed, a swathe of blankets covering pretty much everything but her face, clutching yet another mass of blankets to her chest.

She looked up as he approached the bed, more than a bit unnerved by the rather ominous silence inside the room: Harry, he noticed then, was huddled on a chair on the left of the bed, holding Ginny's right hand. He looked up as well as his wife did, smiling at the nervous child timidly making his way towards them.

Closer to, Teddy noted with alarm, Ginny looked like she hadn't slept in a few days- dark bags under her eyes, face pale. But her smile was still the same as he clambered onto the bed, the same smile that greeted him at least once every three days, the one she wore as she often tucked him to bed at night.

"Come here, love. Don't you want to meet your godbrother?" Ginny's voice sounded all wrong too, all raspy and rough.

Cautiously, he half crawled and half shimmied his way to the witch and peeked over her arms at the bundle of blue blankets.

A tiny, red face met his sight, and he shrank back an inch or two, revolted. Harry watched in amusement as his godson looked at Ginny, as if for reassurance that the little thing wasn't going to jump up and bite him (Harry gave vent to a borderline hysterical chuckle at the thought, and then winced as Ginny shot him a swift glare), and then took another peek.

Well, the face had the proper amount of eyes and nose and mouth; Teddy conceeded. But it was just so small. Maybe Harry had shrunk him by mistake?

Experimentally, he slipped his pinky finger into one minuscule hand; and gave an excited squeak as the hand closed around his finger.

"What's his name?" he asked to the room in general as both women present made aww-ing sounds.

It was Harry who answered him, "Well, Ginny and I discussed it, and we're going to name him James. James Sirius Potter."

Teddy snorted in disdain. No wonder Ginny had said she would need his help.

"Harry," the five year old said, shooting his godfather an uncannily critical expression, "that's a terrible name!"

"You were named after your Grandpa, too, you know." Harry countered, lips twitching, as his wife and best friends watched the exchange like an exciting Quidditch match.

Clearly, Teddy thought that that particular observation only served to underline his point further.

Grown-ups, he thought, were certainly an odd bunch. Why would anyone want to give a brand new baby an old name?

He looked back at the sleeping infant. "His name is..." he thought for a few seconds more, and then brightened as it came to him, "Jamie!"

Little 'Jamie' woke up just as Teddy said it, and looked up with blue eyes at his mother and godbrother with what may only be described as clinical interest.

"Don't worry, Jamie, I'm here now. I won't let Harry drop you!"