Author's Note:

Tequila: recently, someone went AWAY

Justin: Yes, well, he came back, Tequila!

Tequila: and I had to write him LETTERS

Justin: Two letters. Big deal.

Tequila: and that got me THINKING

Justin: Thinking? You? Really?

Disclaimer: we wrote JKR a letter, asking if we could borrow the marauders (cough, and the rest of the franchise, cough) but she never replied :(

Lost and Found

Harry could have Apparated straight to the front door. He didn't. Instead, his coordinates took him to the edge of the grounds, giving him a leisurely five minute walk before making his way to the cottage. It was undoubtedly a waste of time and energy—but so were a lot of things he did, nowadays.

He liked it that way.

Harry traveled slowly up the path to the cheerfully painted door and knocked once.

"Harry." Andromeda's smile was warm, though fragile. "Come on in, Teddy's just woken up from his nap."

In a few minutes Harry was installed in a rocking chair, with a blanket and a toddler in his lap. Teddy was not yet up to walking, not quite, but he was old enough that sitting still—even with Harry—was not nearly as interesting as the other things he was sure he could be doing. So the rocking chair and the blanket vanished for him after a minute or two, and so did Harry—instead Teddy spent half and hour with a very fierce dragon who was intent on tickling him. Then Teddy became a dragon, and chased a helpless knight all over the nursery at a crawl.

Several rounds of peekaboo followed (made more interesting by the fact that every time his face was revealed, Teddy's hair was different color) and then some picture books were read out loud. They ate supper together, with Andromeda chuckling helplessly as she watched the Savoir of the Wizarding World be thoroughly smeared with mushy peas. Then it was bathtime, and back to bed for songs.

After Teddy had fallen asleep, Harry stood. He spent several minutes watching his godson in the crib, then quietly eased out of the nursery and rattled down the stairs. Andromeda was waiting at the bottom.

"Andromeda. He's out like a light. I'll see you—"

She stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. "Harry, just a moment." Andromeda led him into the kitchen. "I've been going through—I found this, addressed to you, up in… up in their room." She swallowed. "I thought you should have it." She passed Harry a small cardboard box tied about with twine that did indeed have the words For Harry Potter written on it in Remus's neat, elegant script.

Harry sat down heavily in the kitchen chair. A box. A bloody he slowlyreached out and untied the rough twine. Inside were four scrolls of parchment, each sealed, and another one unrolled with his name at the top.

Dear Harry. Contained are the remains of an enthusiasm of Mad-Eye that ran its course and was largely forgotten about in 1980. The so called 'posthumous letter.' We all wrote one, and after Sirius's death I was astounded to find both his and James's letters in Grimmauld Place. I myself happened to be in the procession of Peter Pettigrew's version, which he owled to me immediately before the events of October 31st, 1981, and I never read. I have included my own attempt at such a letter, addressed to my wife and child, and if you are reading this now I would appreciate it if you saw that it made its way into their hands. I feel that all of these letters are, in some way, yours to read and to pass on. I would have included your mother's, but I am unsure if she ever penned one—if she did, I am afraid it was most likely lost with her death. I do not know if reading these would be a source of pain or comfort to you, and if it is the former I beg you to burn them unread. However, they are undoubtedly yours to read if you wish to, and I wish you all the joy of them.

Farewell,

Remus J. "Moony" Lupin

"My god." Harry swallowed hard, and then dug furiously through the box, searching for his father's letter. After a moment, here it was in his hands. His father's handwriting, quick and careless, his father's words of love for his mother and Harry, as yet unborn. Such wonderful, tangible proof that James Potter had lived and loved and walked the world. He leaned back heavily into the wooden back of his chair.

"Thank you, Andromeda, thank you so—"

Her smile was bittersweet. "It is not me that is deserving of your thanks, Harry. Thank Remus."

He nodded, and reached into the box for the next letter. Dear Prongs, in Sirius's mad, scrawling script.

It was so late when he got up to leave that Harry ended up accepting Andromeda's offer of a bed for the night. He stayed the next morning to have breakfast with a delighted Teddy, before returning home to read James's letter over and over and over again.

Over the years, that box traveled with Harry to two or three different flats before finally settling in the topmost left pigeonhole of his desk in the study. At least two of letters within were taken out and read every year or so, but privately. One of them had only been read once. And one of them had never been read at all.

At least until July 31st of 2008.

By this time, at least, Harry had managed to avoid a large party—none of the bank holiday and parade nonsense he'd had to talk Kingsley out of the first few years after the war—but there was a definite gathering, at the house, with food and music and dancing. James was just old enough to be toddling around, gleefully getting into everyone's way, and Ginny was preoccupied with baby Al, so Harry had to do quite a bit of chasing around after his oldest son.

Teddy, ten years old and flushed with pride at having received his Hogwarts letter not three weeks before, proved a great help. The little boy idolized his godbrother, and as the party wound down Teddy finally convinced James to go and have a nap with mum and Albus.

Harry asked Andromeda to wait a minute or two, and then went upstairs to the study and opened the shoebox, still tied with twine, and removed the still sealed scroll.

He pulled Teddy aside and knelt in the grass with his godson, whose hair was (today) a sandy blond. The little boy was nearly buzzing with excitement at the idea of a mysterious gift from his godfather. Harry took a deep breath. "Teddy… you're going to be off to Hogwarts in a month or so, and I thought it was about time to give you this." Harry handed his godson the scroll, still sealed and unread, that had come into his hands almost ten years before. "It's… from your father."

The boy's eyes (a deep violet, this week) lit up from within like someone had struck a match behind them. "Really? From my father?" Teddy's hands shook as he grasped the scroll tightly to his chest.

Harry smiled. "Yep. And now it's yours to keep."

The child sat down in the grass and slit the wax, unrolling the scroll and devouring the parchment with his eyes. Harry fetched Andromeda and explained the situation, then said his goodbyes to a distracted Teddy and returned inside.

Ginny met him at the door, smiling. "The boys are asleep… and after you've had your traditional birthday letterfest, I—" she leaned in, bewitchingly beautiful as always, "still need to give you your birthday present."

Harry grinned, kissed his wife, and went upstairs to read a letter.

A/N; the reply:

Tequila: and hit that lovely little button (rightways pointing arrow)

Justin: If you want to read the letters!

Tequila: and hit that lovely little button (downward pointing arrow)

Justin: If you want to review!