In memory of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks Lupin

I had some requests for a companion/sequel fiction to Anytime. Which, when you think about it, was left at a pretty cliff-hangy point, I'd say. Anyway, this is how it unraveled the next visit. I enjoyed developing Teddy and Harry's relationship, and this fiction practically wrote itself. I just hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. D:

Ginny licked her hands clean of all the traces of chocolate icing, quickly ducking them underneath the kitchen counter for safety as she heard a door in the hall creak open. Hastily she glanced at her watch. Teddy had said he'd be here at five, and it was bordering on five thirty. Did that boy enjoy making people anxious over him?

She had to stretch onto her toes in order to shove the small box on top of the wooden pantry, twisting around quickly in case Harry had glimpsed her.

"Why are you so jumpy today, mum?"

Ginny gasped sharply, spinning around to face James. She almost mistook him for Harry and had a heart attack, but she quickly registered his height and calmed down. James caught her as she tumbled.

"You alright there?" he asked, looking halfway amused and halfway ashamed of his own mother. "I didn't mean to give you a heart attack. Maybe I'll knock next time, you know, coming into the family kitchen and all."

Ginny gave James the motherly look she had inherited from her mother, the one Lily would inherit from her. James got the point and looked away.

"When's dinner going to be ready?" he asked impatiently.

"When dinner's ready," Ginny replied curtly. James was going through that phase where he just about never stopped eating. He's a growing boy, Harry had said on several occasions, laughing. Let him be hungry.

"Dad wanted to know," James informed her.

"Then you can tell him 'When dinner's ready.'" Ginny stirred some of the leftover stew from the previous night. It had gone over very well with Harry and the kids, so she assumed she could re-serve it without tipping Harry off to their unexpected guest tonight. Unexpected, that is, only on his part.

"I will," James threatened, turning to walk away from her. Ginny didn't even bother chiding him for his ill manners. She didn't have time to worry about that. Talk about bad priorities…

James, exiting the room, passed Harry who was entering it. James's mouth moved, but his words were inaudible, and Harry shrugged at him. James rolled his eyes and continued down the hallway as Harry advanced to an expectant Ginny.

"James would like to know why you're so jumpy today," Harry explained, smiling weakly. He was still a bit shaky from the events of the previous night… still a bit stirred. "He'd also like to know—"

"When dinner will be ready. So I heard," Ginny concluded for him.

"Well?" Harry asked.

"Well, what?" Ginny said, innocently, although she knew full well what he was asking. But now, anything she could do to buy Teddy a second of time, she was using.

"Well… when's it going to be ready?"

Ginny glanced at the stew on the stove. Honestly, it had been ready for quite a while now, as all she had to do, really, was heat it up. She'd even had to turn the stove down to as low as it could go so that it didn't burn. Nonetheless, she added a few shakes of salt for show. "Soon. Be patient."

In a flash, Harry's finger was shooting towards the pot of stew. But Ginny's reflexes kicked in. "Not yet," she commanded, slapping his hand away.

"You know, it's funny," she continued. "Because just yesterday, Teddy—" Ginny stopped short, smiling apologetically.

Harry frowned, looking slightly offended. "Teddy what?" He asked, casually. "Why did you stop?"

Ginny put her hand on his shoulder. "Harry, come on. You don't want to hear it."

Harry looked up, sticking out his lower lip childishly. "Why not? I always like to hear about my godson. Why would right now be any different?" But his eyes were glazed over and distant, and he wasn't fooling anyone. Especially not his wife, who was finely attuned to all of his emotions.

Ginny kissed him lightly and then nudged him away. "Don't push yourself."

"Oh, I'm not," Harry insisted. "Teenagers will be teenagers," he said vaguely.

Ginny gave him another of her motherly looks, but continued stirring the stew.

The doorbell rang, sounding far more loud than usual, piercing both Ginny and Harry's thoughts, and maybe some of the tension as well. Maybe.

"I'll get it!" Ginny said, far too loud, when Harry took a step towards the door. She blushed at him and chuckled nervously. "Sorry," she said. "Jumpy today… right?" With another hasty fake chuckle, she walked out into the foyer. She didn't need to look through the peek hole to know who it was.

It was very unusual for Teddy Lupin to walk around with a natural shade of hair. Yet his snow-dusted, dripping hair was a dark brown, nearly black. His cheeks were red from the cold, and even his eyelashes had a sprinkling of melting snowflakes. Behind him was a scene of an early March snow.

"Forget your key?" Ginny said conversationally, pulling him into the house and shutting the door behind him as he pulled off his dripping coat.

Teddy gave a weak, apologetic grin, but stayed quiet.

Merlin, Ginny found herself thinking, as she led him into the den. Men. Can't they just get over their stupid pride?

"Stew again," she alerted him, trying to stay perky. "As I promised."

"Thanks, Gin," Teddy said, his voice dull and lifeless, giving her a bit of an awkward one-armed hug. Ginny squirmed free.

"You're soaking wet."

Teddy shrugged. "I walked."

Ginny focused her eyes on his. "Well, why would you do that?"

Teddy shrugged. "Dunno. Just felt like walking, I guess."

Ginny opened her mouth to object, but she didn't get a chance to.

"Teddy!" Lily cried, bouncing up to him. "I thought you weren't coming today! Mummy said—mmph!" Ginny muffled her daughter's mouth with her hand, feeling herself flush again.

"Come on, Lily, it's time for dinner. Go get your brothers, alright?"

"Alright, mum," Lily said dejectedly, turning around and sulking off to fetch her brothers.

"Have a seat, Teddy," Ginny commanded, wandering into the kitchen. "I'll be right there."

Harry was peering into the den.

Ginny had to struggle to sound casual, but her voice came out sounding detached and pained. "Go on, Harry. I can't think of a better place to talk—"

But as the loud outburst of greetings began, Ginny noted that it was impossible for Teddy and Harry to speak without having three more sets of ears listening in on their conversations.

Harry glanced at her nervously.

"I'll be there in a minute," she said, pulling out enough bowls, plates and glasses for all of them, and beginning to ladle the stew into them. Harry walked, as gracefully as he could without hurting himself, into the den.

In a short moment, the bowls were filled with steaming stew, a slice of bread, sized according to age, was on each saucer, and the glasses were filled to the rims. Ginny waved her wand, holding all of them in the air as she walked to the table where her family, more or less, was seated. Harry, she noticed, was sitting at one head of the table while Teddy was seated at the opposite.

"Smells great, Gin," Teddy said, cheerily—whether genuine or feigned, Ginny couldn't tell.

"Tastes great, too," Albus added with a mouthful of beef.

"Tastes like last night's," James commented, receiving a nudge from Lily.

"I should hope so," Ginny joked, butterflies forming in her stomach as she glanced at her husband, who had his face buried in The Prophet that sat next to him.

As every minute passed Ginny confirmed more and more that both Teddy and Harry were either too immature for their own good, or were swelling with so much pride that neither of them could speak first. Which it was, she couldn't tell, but she quickly forgot as Teddy pushed aside his gloominess and gave way to his cheerful disposition, making his nose take the shape of a pig's when James belched loudly, and sending Lily and Albus into fits of laughter at James's expense.

And from then on it was like any other dinner they'd shared before—minus interaction of any sort, that is, on Teddy and Harry's part.

--

"Teddy, you promised you'd look at my drawings," Lily whined as Ginny cleared the table. "You said so last night."

"And I will," Teddy insisted. "I'll be up in just a minute, alright?"

Lily eyed him suspiciously, as if even she, still so young, could tell that something was up with him, and then turned and bounced off.

Ginny slipped into the kitchen, out of sight.

"May I… have a word?" Teddy said quietly to Harry, who had been trying to make an escape going unnoticed, without factoring in the fact that that was virtually impossible.

"Of course," he said to his godson, the distant gaze still in his eyes, sending a chill down Teddy's spine.

The young Metamorphmagus pulled out a chair from the table, and gestured to the one across from him; Harry pulled that one out and sat in it.

Teddy struggled for a moment to find words.

"It's not that—"

"I'd completely forgotten it was his birthday."

Harry had cut right to the point, leaving Teddy startled and speechless. Harry continued.

"I feel awfully guilty about it, too. And if anything should have tipped me off, it should have been the way you were acting, Ted. I—it was almost as though you were jumpy. You were looking over your shoulder every few minutes, as if something were behind you. And at the same time, you were calmer… more refreshed… you took things slower, you spoke with more meaning."

Teddy looked down, clicking his nails against each other.

"That's probably why I said—why I said that. I was thinking about it all day. How—how I don't have a father… and at the same time, I do have one." The smile he shot up at Harry was hesitant, as if wondering how he would be received. "I don't know why I said that, though. There's no excuse." The smile faded quickly. "I've never regretted anything so strongly before. But you don't need to forgive me." He chuckled nervously. "Don't get me wrong… it's not like I'm not aching for it, but…"

Harry's gaze was fixed on him. His eyes were smiling warmly. He was seeing Remus. He was seeing nothing but his good friend, Remus Lupin.

"Don't be stupid, Teddy."

A chorus of a lightly whistled Happy Birthday interrupted their conversation. Ginny was gliding into the room, holding up a small cake with wildly sparkling candles. She flicked the lights out before hastily placing the cake she'd made earlier between the two. Between one of the late werewolf's closest friends, and his only, orphaned son.

"Chocolate," Harry laughed. "How appropriate."

Teddy laughed along, but not for the same reason. He laughed at Ginny's effort, and at Harry's forgiveness. He laughed out of happiness.

"I just thought, you know—" Ginny began testifying.

"Thanks, Gin," Teddy interrupted her clumsy apology. "That was really sweet of you."

Ginny hesitantly slid into the chair beside Harry, who slid his arm around her waist, acting on his appreciation. Could he have asked for a better wife?

Teddy's eyes twinkled, gleaming stars from the heartfelt notion of the candles twinkling in his bright eyes. Ginny hadn't noticed, but his hair was a bright turquoise again.

And Teddy Lupin sat and ate chocolate birthday cake with his, in the most practical of senses, adoptive mother and father.

I hope you liked this second addition.
Again, reviews majorly boost my confidence, which boosts my muse and creative juices, which helps me with more stories.
So drop one, if you will.
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