DAY FIVE

The day after the funerals, Harry took her to go see Teddy Lupin. He'd been there at the funeral for his parents, a bundle in his grandmother's arms. Now he was in Ginny's. Harry had not held him, but was sitting on the couch, staring straight ahead into the empty hearth. His glasses were off, tucked in his hand, and several times, Ginny had to bite her tongue to keep from cajoling him into talking. If Harry wanted to drop in unannounced at Andromeda Tonks's house and then sit there and not say anything, as far as Ginny was concerned, he'd earned it.

"Aren't you a handsome man?" Ginny looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms, rocking from one foot to the other. Teddy Lupin gazed back at her, dark eyes roaming her face, then fixed on her hair. His small hand was wrapped around her finger. "You are, Master Lupin, you're a handsome little man."

The words flowed from her. Andromeda Tonks's home was cozy and dark. It was mid afternoon, but a lamp was lit in the corner, and it cast a soft glow about the room, catching the mottled blue and pink of the baby's hair. He was a beautiful baby, it had to be said, who may have had his mother's abilities, but didn't exactly look like either one of them. There was a hint of Remus in the shape of his chin and his eyebrows were Dora's in miniature. But unlike Harry, who looked so much like his father, Teddy would not be a living memorial to his parents.

Ginny drew in a shaky breath. Teddy finished his inspection of her, then shifted in her arms, turned his head, and let out a little wail.

Andromeda darted over and patted him on the back. "There, there, little man," she said.

"I don't know what I did—"

"It isn't anything you did." Tears sparkled in the older woman's eyes. "He's just looking for her. For my daughter. They're smarter than you think, infants. He knows she isn't here and he's looking for her—for them."

Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw Harry jolt at this. He stirred and then stood, face pale and pinched, with red-rimmed eyes. Their gazes tangled together. Ginny wondered if Harry was thinking how long he'd looked for his own parents. He'd been much older than Teddy was; likely, he'd been stringing words together. How often had that awful aunt of his snapped at him that his parents were never coming back?

Ginny shook her head. Teddy was wrapped in a blanket knit from many different strands of colors. "I'm sorry, little man," she said softly. "They were so brave. So loving."

"He'll need to hear stories of them," Andromeda said, sniffling.

"He will." Harry's voice was thick with disuse. "I'll tell him everything I know about his dad..."

"And I can help with Dora stories." Teddy blinked up at her, his wizened little face solemn.

Harry leaned over her shoulder to peer at him. His hand was at the small of her back now, a warm pressure that she leaned into. It was Harry's face Teddy studied now. Carefully, Ginny lifted the tender little bundle higher so he could see his godfather. There was silence but for the ticking of the clock as they let the baby take in Harry's features. Something caught in her throat when he wailed again, longer and louder, not even soothed when his grandmother patted him on the back.

It was Ginny who ended up promising, after so carefully transferring Teddy back to Andromeda, that they would come again. A few murmurs was all it took before they were out the door. Harry did not immediately take her arm to Apparate them back to the Burrow, but strode down a stone walk toward a small pond. Ginny meandered after him, watching him, his long, lean body a straight blade.

"I was terrible in there," he said when she neared.

"There aren't any rules," she told him. "It doesn't break any Ministry laws to go to someone's house and just sit there."

He choked on a laugh. Then the laughter fell away. "I'm a godfather. I'm seventeen years old and I have a godson and I was so worried Andromeda was going to make me hold him. How do you even hold a baby, anyway? And how did you know how to do it?"

"I have little cousins," said Ginny. "There's a little crew of them who are all at least eight years younger than me."

"You were great. I just... wasn't."

"Harry." Ginny grabbed his robes and made him turn so he was facing her. To her annoyance, tears prickled at the backs of her eyes. How long had he looked for his parents, anyway? She shook that thought away. The sun was shining, turning the lenses of his glasses an opaque, silvery color. "Listen to me. Today wasn't the only day you're going to see Teddy. You didn't have to be perfect. Some day, when he's older, you're going to make good on your promise. So the first five minutes you spent with him, you were nervous and confused? That isn't going to matter. Harry, this wasn't your only chance with Teddy."

He heaved a shaky little sigh, and then his arms wrapped around her. Perhaps she was still used to holding a baby in her arms, but Ginny swayed a little, rocking back and forth on her feet. He pressed his face against her head — he breathed in little jerks and she knew he was crying. Her own eyes dried and she held him, listening to his heart beating, and squeezed him tighter.