Author's Note: The response I've gotten so far on this entry has been magnificent, and a special thanks to Fenwild. You are the first person to say the particular combination of words that means you are a fan of this series as a whole. It was a bit of a unique experience for me and it took me somewhat by surprise to realise that not only do people like my writing generally but that this series, in particular, has fans. That said, I never would have gotten even this far if it were not for the support of many people over on the Harry/Fleur Discord server, the link to which will be at the end along with a fanfic recommendation. Thanks to DaveAthenai, Charlennette, and x102reddragon in particular for inspiring me and encouraging me to write these stories. If you enjoy the story please leave a comment telling me what you think worked and what didn't, your feedback is crucial in helping me to get better as an author.


To Carry Our Memories:

Chapter Two


"It's finally happening, Ted, our grandson's going to Hogwarts."

Andromeda tried to smile, she honestly did, to be happy and proud and grateful for the relationship she had with her daughter's son, for the time they had together, for the parts of his life that they shared. She tried, she tried so hard, but she couldn't manage it. Not when Ted's gravestone stood so silent and cold. She tore her gaze away, up at the sky at first, bright and overcast, a fine English grey, then down at the damp grass beneath her feet. Her eyes stung with gathering tears as she stared at her boots, but she refused to let them fall. She shifted her weight, her right ankle creaking in protest where she had twisted it on the run as she did so, and she raised her head back up to glance around the empty graveyard with a drawn huff, the sniffling gasp preceding her words as she regained mastery of her voice.

"I should be proud. Happy," she said, a deprecating smile parting her lips as she searched for the words to express the spectre of loss she felt creeping up on her with each passing day. She wanted more than anything to stay silent, to say nothing and bottle it up inside and hope it died in the darkness, starved of the light of day. To bury the pain deep inside like she had when Sirius was imprisoned, but Ted wouldn't want that.

"I should, but I'm not." Her voice quavered, the sheer effort of speaking almost enough to bring her to her knees. She closed her eyes, feeling the burn of the tears as they carved searing trails down her cheeks.

"It took me a week to take him to get his wand, Ted, a whole week. I just…" Words failed her for the moment and she let the breath she had intended to spend on the confession flow out in a shaky sigh before pulling it in once again. She sniffed, running herself through a breathing exercise Molly had taught her as she fumbled with the small bouquet of spring daffodils she'd brought with her.

Years ago, when they had still been in Hogwarts, Ted had asked her what her favourite flower was. She hadn't cared much about flowers and had never given them much thought, so she picked one at random, adding the qualifier that the daffodils be of the spring variety so as not to seem too provincial. Ted had known she hadn't put her heart into the answer, but he'd stuck with the flower anyway. He'd given her a spring Daffodil on their first date after running away together at the end of their sixth year, he'd had them arranged in a pot at their table in the muggle restaurant where he'd proposed, they'd even been the centrepiece of her wedding bouquet. For years she'd been convinced that Ted loved them more than she did, it was only after he was gone that she realized how much a flower could mean.

"I keep imagining him," she began, slowly, haltingly, "I keep picturing him in the moment when the whistle blows and the Express starts to pull out of the station." She raised her left hand to her cheek, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. "I see him looking out at me from the window, surrounded by children his age, his hair a riot of colour as he rolls away. I smile and wave, and he waves back, and then he's, he's gone and he, and I'm…" Once again her emotions threatened to overwhelm her but she charged ahead, fighting to get the words out before she lost her nerve,

"And I'm all alone. He's off to Hogwarts to learn and grow and live his life, and I'm left behind." The tears flowed freely now, the mix of grief and fear and shame too much for even her monolithic self-control to bear. "And then I turn around and walk back through the barrier, and I go home, and it's quiet at the house. It's- It's quiet and, and I…" she choked back a sob, "He's a very loud child, you see, so much l-like Dora a-and… and…"

She stared at the wallpaper on the ceiling, the green and gold and silver forest tapestry that surely cost a fortune and covered every surface save the hardwood in her palatial room. She heard the distant chime of the grandfather clock in the drawing-room, the only sound to cut through the stillness of Grimmauld Place. The chime of the third hour ended and the silence of the night closed in again, oppressive. She balled up her fists under the sheets as she stared at the ceiling, angry tears spilling out of the corners of her eyes to trace their way down past her ears. She wanted to scream. She didn't.

"You know I'm not fond of the quiet," she managed, trying and failing to add a lilt of irony to the words she'd heard him say so often before, as often as not with an understanding note of pity mixed in. "Empty Nester's Syndrome, I've heard it called." She was regaining control now, her heaving breaths more even, if no less painful. "I know we didn't have much trouble with it when Dora left but that was before, well…" she trailed off, closing her eyes, willing the next words not to pass her lips, knowing they would change nothing, knowing it would only make things worse, knowing she couldn't stop them no matter how hard she tried.

"Say something," she whispered. As ever, the stone did not reply. She bowed her head, lips twisting bitterly, hating that she couldn't stop the words from passing her lips, hating that she couldn't take them back, hating that she didn't want to. She knelt, laid the daffodil at Ted's feet, and turned to leave. It would be time to get Teddy from Harry and Fleur's house in twenty minutes or so and she would need every second of that time to prepare herself. Harry and Fleur would understand, and Teddy might too if she were being honest, but she didn't want him to.

She vanished with a soft pop of apparition and left the cemetery behind, silent as the grave.

~~~O~~~

"James, would you please pass me the towel by the sink?"

"Sure thing, Papa."

Harry smiled softly as James leapt up from his seat at the scrubbed-wood table and grabbed the requested towel. Walking halfway to meet him, he took the towel and used it to wipe away the mixed flour and bits of dough that were stuck to his hands, patting down his apron as well.

"How long until it's done?"

"About three-quarters of an hour for the bread to bake, then we need to let it sit and cool before we can eat it," answered Harry.

He turned to the table and began clearing up supplies while James carried the mixing bowl over to the sink. As he was putting the salt jar in its place on the pantry shelf Harry glanced over at the clock on the wall and, seeing the hour, nodded towards the stairs.

"Aunt Andie will be here to get Teddy soon, how about you go find him and get him ready?"

He turned back to the shelves, placing the sugar in its place opposite the salt, and in a distinctly different looking jar, about to move on to the flour before he paused, sensing something wasn't quite right. He couldn't hear any footsteps on the stairs. James was standing by the door, a look of consternation on his face as he hesitated with one foot on the bottom step.

"Is something wrong?"

As if he had been given permission, James pulled the foot back and stepped away from the stairs. With a flick of his wrist Harry's wand was in his hand and a moment later the remaining dishes, pots, jars, and other miscellaneous bread-making supplies were floating through the air all at once to their respective places as he crossed the distance between them in four long strides. All the while, James was looking down at the floor with a growing frown scrunching his face into a knot, only looking up once Harry was right in front of him.

"Papa, Teddy wants to go to Hogwarts, right?"

In all the world, Harry decided, there was nothing more humbling than the trust of a child. As Harry looked into his son's eyes he saw no doubt, no uncertainty, not an ounce of reservation, just the unconditional and absolute confidence that his father would have the answers when he did not. To shatter that confidence was unthinkable, but far worse would be to lie.

"I don't know."

James' eyes widened, and Harry could almost see the gears in his head stick and freeze in place at the unexpected, the fog of the unknown momentarily paralyzing his thought processes.

"Our family has a complicated history with Hogwarts." As he spoke, he placed a hand on his son's shoulder and drew him over to sit down at the table that had been covered in baking supplies mere moments previously. "You know that Teddy's mother and father died in the war. Well, they died there, at Hogwarts."

He watched as the gears began to turn once more, James' eyes softening into thoughtfulness as Harry kept speaking, his perspective shifting to focus on his own lack of understanding rather than Harry's admission of non-omnipotence.

"But, Hogwarts is a school?"

"It is."

"Why would people be fighting there?"

Harry knew the answer of course, and the answer after that, and the one after that. He knew that Hogwarts was a powerful social symbol, a pillar of identity for the magical community of Britain and thus a valuable strategic asset; that whoever controlled those stones and mortar automatically gained a fundamental force of influence over the morale of the populace. He knew also that it was a castle, that it had significant practical defences, that it had great stores and that its expansive grounds acted as a safe and controllable environment in which vast quantities of essential but difficult to farm magical materials could be safely stocked. He knew also that it was a school and that schools housed children, that controlling it meant controlling those same children, and that controlling a people's children meant controlling them all. He also knew that war cared little for the age of its victims, and less for the age of its soldiers. He knew these things and he had used that knowledge in the war, to protect, to martial, rally and control. More than anyone else, Harry Potter knew why people would be fighting, and dying, in a school.

"Because that's where the good people were, and the bad people try to find the good people just as much as the good people try to find the bad ones."

"So they can stop them?"

"So they can stop them."

James went quiet, thinking, but Harry didn't rush him. He'd taught all three of them from a young age to speak their minds. To say what they meant and to mean what they said, but also to be careful with their words. They were still children of course, and thoughtless speech was both natural and expected for their age, but they had learned to recognise when what they had to say was important and to give themselves the time they needed to find the right words.

"So, Teddy doesn't want to go to Hogwarts because it's where uncle Remus and aunt Dora died?"

Harry hesitated before speaking, knowing that James would accept what he said as fact whether it was so or not. "People are not simple, James, we do what we do for many reasons and they aren't always visible to the people around us," he said carefully, intimately conscious of the way James was hanging off his every word. "Teddy may very well want to go to Hogwarts, and he may very well not. He may even want both at the same time."

James frowned. "How can you want two different things at the same time?"

Harry chuckled. "Smarter people than me have tried to answer that, but…" he trailed off, struggling to formulate an analogy for inner turmoil that could be understood by a nine-year-old without also stripping away yet more of the wonder that was of such precious supply in the world.

"What made you ask me about this?" he asked instead, relying on the unconditional benefit of the doubt that all three of them gave him, Fleur, and Andromeda to keep James patient while Harry grappled with the answer to his question. James' face momentarily brightened in what Harry recognised as satisfaction at having a confident answer to give before he frowned again, though not as deeply as before.

"Well," James said slowly, "I was talking to Teddy earlier and I said I couldn't wait till I turned eleven and got my letter, and then we'd both be at Hogwarts together!" Harry smiled softly at the obvious excitement that not even the seriousness of the conversation could wholly contain. "But then," James continued, growing more subdued, "Teddy went all quiet and he asked me how I'd feel about being away from you and Maman all year."

Now it was Harry's turn to frown. He hadn't even considered that yet, and he knew Fleur hadn't either. Could Teddy's reluctance be due to something so simple as homesickness? No, he decided. Teddy was too excited to learn magic. He practically bounced off the walls whenever Fleur set aside some time to tell him snippets of magical theory, his hunger to learn eclipsed only by Hermione's legendary thirst for knowledge. It couldn't just be homesickness, not when his eagerness to learn trumped everything else, not when his mood was so clearly tied to Hogwarts in particular, but… Doubt began to gnaw at him.

He'd told James that he didn't know if Teddy really wanted to go to Hogwarts or not, and that was true, but what if that wasn't the only thing he didn't know? He and Fleur had been so focused on the abnormal element, the deeply personal history they all shared with the castle, that the more ordinary reasons why an eleven-year-old might be reluctant to go away to a boarding school for ten months out of the year hadn't even occurred to them. What else might they be missing? James was oblivious to his sudden doubt, continuing with his story as if nothing had happened.

"I got quiet too, I hadn't thought about that before. But then I remembered your stories about uncle Ron and aunt Hermione, and I told Teddy it wouldn't be so bad since we'd make friends there just like you did."

Harry grinned, an errant thought piercing through his confusion, and he snorted. "Not quite like I did, I hope," James frowned at him and he elaborated. "I doubt your Maman would be too pleased if she heard you were fighting trolls in the girls' toilet."

James giggled, and Harry was grateful that the seriousness of the discussion hadn't stripped the power from him. The way they were speaking, he could almost forget how young his son was. Almost. He could feel his face soften into warm contemplativeness as he watched James' giggles run their course. Children ought to smile, and he was glad he could help make that true for his son. When he spoke next, the weight of doubt had been stripped from James' voice and instead there was only curiosity.

"So, Teddy is scared he'll be lonely?"

Harry's smile gained a bittersweet edge, here they were again.

"I don't know."

He was almost sad to see that this time around, the words didn't take James by surprise. He still frowned, he still wasn't quite sure how to handle the notion that his papa didn't know everything, but Harry could see that it didn't make him freeze and shut down as it had only minutes prior. He knew that's how it would be, not a sudden change, but like a sculptor tapping away at the idea of him with a chisel until one day, very much of a sudden, his son would look at him and realise with a start that he was just a man.

"We can't know what's going on in someone else's heart and head, James, not unless we ask them and not unless they want to tell," Harry continued, resignedly recognising as he said it that he was telling the truth, that the only way to help his godson was to out and ask him what was wrong.

"Sometimes people do want two different things at once, sometimes they want something they know is bad for them, and so they both want it and want to not want it. Other times they want things for bad reasons. Maybe they don't really want the thing, but someone else wants that thing for them and so they act like they want it to make that person happy. In the end," Harry finished, placing a reassuring hand on James' shoulder as he did so, "the only way to know for sure is to ask."

"So, you'll ask Teddy?"

Harry sighed internally. "Yes, yes I will."

~~~O~~~

Isabelle was sitting on Fleur's shoulders, the two just a few steps ahead of Teddy as they walked back from the orchard. A cluster of vines had grown over the apple trees in the fall and Harry and Fleur had wanted to prune them away now that winter had dried them out but before spring had a chance to bring them back to life over the next few weeks, so Teddy had gone out with the two girls to take care of it while Harry and James stayed back to work in the kitchen. Fleur had shown them how to do it by hand, explaining that understanding the mundane process would make it more effective when they used magic. Understanding always comes first, she'd said.

As they approached the house Isabelle began to squirm and Fleur knelt, letting his little sister down to run the last few feet up to the veranda. But as Teddy approached the door he slowed, placing one hand on the frame and refusing to enter. Fleur, who had slowed to wait for him to go in first, raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. He hesitated, wrestling with the weight of the past few weeks, but ultimately the feeling of his wand shifting in the holster on his belt decided for him.

"Erm, Fleur, can I ask you about something?" he said, shifting away from the door to face her fully.

"Of course," she immediately replied, walking a few steps away from the front door and gesturing for him to follow. He did so, but once they had moved to some level of privacy he found that he couldn't get the words out. He was confused and he knew it, he even had a good idea of what he was confused about and why which only made his inability to fix it more frustrating.

"What is wrong?" Fleur asked gently. He looked up at her face, only now realizing that he had spent the last minute studying his feet, and as he looked into her eyes he saw something he hadn't expected. Expectation. She knew, he realised. She knew, she'd possibly known all along. All that time, the weeks he'd spent sitting in his room and staring back and forth between his wand and his trunk, and she'd known all along. He felt something else then, another unexpected intrusion that he'd never felt before, that he hadn't the slightest idea what to do with. He felt ashamed. Fleur had always been able to see through him, she'd always been able to look in his eyes and tell him exactly what he was thinking even when he lacked the words himself. He'd never felt ashamed about it before, but now…

"Did I ever tell you about the day your mother decided to join the Aurors?"

His head snapped up and Teddy shook it vigorously, Gran smiled and settled back in her chair, setting her shoulders and tilting her head back ever so slightly just like she always did whenever she embarked on a tale.

"It was her sixth year at Hogwarts. Up until then, she'd been planning on being a children's healer," she paused, flicking a conspiratorial smile Teddy's way. "Between you and me, I think your mother would have been wonderful with the kids, but she was a bit too headstrong to do well in such a cooperative environment. Whenever she thought she was right on something she would do it, and I doubt her fellow healers would have much liked her attitude. Of course, the Aurors didn't either, but at least there her determination was directly applicable."

Teddy drank in her words, the brand new colouring book of magical horse creatures lying forgotten on the carpet in front of him. The idea of his mother being a healer for children was so unexpected that he wouldn't have thought it real, he'd always imagined her as a cool lady in leather jackets fighting bad guys with a smile on her face, but his Gran never lied to him so it must be the truth.

"Then she came back for Easter break that year and the first words out of her mouth when she saw us were that she didn't want to be a healer anymore and was going to be an Auror instead, didn't even say hello," she chuckled, shaking her head slightly. "She'd gotten into a fight, you see, with a boy in Ravenclaw, and her legs had been hexed so that they waved around like noodles."

He snorted and hiccoughed, the idea only further adding to the hilarity of his rapidly reconstructing mental image of his mother. Now, instead of a smiling woman wearing a spiky leather jacket and a little green healer's cap, he was picturing a grumpy woman wearing a spiky leather jacket, a little green healer's cap, and sitting in a hospital bed with her arms crossed while her legs floated around her like seaweed.

"She gave as good as she got of course," Gran continued, "Better even. But, as Madame Pomfrey told her, healers don't get to hex the people who hexed their patients, no matter how much they deserve it." Her face softened, and Teddy recognised the fond expression as the one her face made whenever she was missing someone.

"She was a wonder, your mother. As soon as she heard that she knew that being a healer wasn't for her, so she picked the next best thing. She said that being an Auror would still let her help children, as well as others, and she'd get to hex the people who deserve it too. She never looked back." She shifted to focus on him fully, her piercing gaze demanding he pay close attention to what she said next.

"She always knew where she was going, your mother. Even when she realised that where she was going wasn't right for her she never hesitated to change her mind and pick what was better instead, and she never looked back."

The memory passed in an instant. Beginning, middle, and end flashed through his mind all at once as he looked up at Fleur's unsurprised face, and his shame only deepened as he realised the truth. He didn't know where he was going, not really, and he didn't know what path was right to pick. Not only that, but he hadn't even started moving yet and already he was looking over his shoulder, staring backwards to try and figure out how to move forwards.

"Teddy?"

He couldn't meet her gaze, and he felt his face burning as he dropped his eyes to stare at her chin.

"Is this about Hogwarts?" she softly asked.

He nodded, not fully trusting himself to speak.

"You aren't sure if you want to go, are you."

He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. The mixture of shame for needing help in such a simple decision and gratitude for how Fleur was able to read him without him needing to speak was almost more than he could handle. She let out a sigh, kneeling to look him in the eye, but his gaze remained fixed on her chin.

"Teddy," she began, "I know that our past with Hogwarts is complicated. I know that it does not hold the best memories for you, and if it turns out that you cannot stay there then we will understand, but know that we do not want you to live your life afraid of the past."

He frowned in confusion, his gaze shifting up from her chin to look her in the eye and seeing nothing but sincerity.

"I know that your mother and father died there," she continued, "and I know that it is difficult to handle, but we do not want you to cut off your past because of that. The past can be painful, but it is something we have to face or else we will spend our whole lives running away from it and then we will never have a moment to decide where we want to go. We will always be ruled by the things we try to escape."

His frown deepened. What she said made sense, the pieces fit, but it didn't feel right. He wasn't really afraid of Hogwarts, was he? He just wanted to go to Beauxbatons, to stay in France and learn magic at the place that spoke to him in stories more than any other, right? Doubt gnawed at him. He'd thought that he knew why he was confused, but Fleur was always right about these sorts of things and her words made a kind of sense even if they didn't line up with what he'd been feeling. Hogwarts was where his parents had gone, it was where Harry had gone and Gran too. He wanted to follow in their footsteps, but he also wanted to go his own way and try something new, or so he thought. But what if his desire to stay in France was just his brain coming up with excuses so he didn't have to face his fear of the past? Was his desire even real, or would he go to Beauxbatons only to come to the horrible realization that he'd just been running away from something and that he didn't belong there? And then, would he have to stay? Would he be stuck there, or would he be able to leave and go back to Hogwarts even after missing his first year? Would they even take him? Did he want them to? Did he not?

His mind reeling, Teddy shifted his weight onto his back foot and overbalanced slightly. Fleur's hand shot up and steadied him, bracing him by the shoulder. He refocused on her face, seeing a muddled mess of concern and support reflected there. She held up her other arm, holding it out and slightly away from in an invitation to a hug. He seized upon it like a lifeline, darting forward and wrapping himself around her, giving up for the moment on trying to sort out what was going on in his head and just relaxing into the comforting warmth of his maman's embrace.

"You know we love you Teddy, and we are so very, very proud of you. No matter what happens, no matter what you decide, I want you to know that you will not have to face it alone." Her hug tightened slightly and she buried her face in his neck before pulling back and resting her forehead against his, looking at him eye to eye and softly whispering, "We will be with you every step of the way."

He pulled himself in closer to her one last time, hugging her fiercely, then pulled away, mumbling something about his room and walking shakily into the house as quickly as his legs would carry him without running or tripping.

~~~O~~~

"I'll, er, be in my room," muttered Teddy awkwardly. He wouldn't meet her gaze, and she watched as he fled away into the entrance hall. Standing and following him to the door, she saw him turn left into the long hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathroom and disappear. She let him go.

Fleur felt her brow furrow and she chewed her bottom lip anxiously, unable to shake the feeling that she had somehow done something wrong. That, despite her best efforts, she had failed her son when he needed her most. She glanced at the clock on the wall by the coat rack, it was nearly six-thirty. Andromeda would be there to pick up Teddy soon, they had fifteen minutes at the most until she arrived. As she stood there, just inside the threshold, she heard the sound of small feet pattering up wooden steps and a few moments later James darted into view, craning his neck around as if searching for someone. His face lit up when he saw her and he skidded to a stop.

"Maman, Papa says that aunt Andie will be here soon and to get Teddy ready to go."

She nodded unconsciously, limbs on autopilot for the moment as her mind grappled with things just beyond the edge of her awareness.

"Yes, that is right. Teddy is in his room just now, but I do not want you to disturb him. He knows Aunt Andie will be here soon already."

That was, technically speaking, not true she belatedly realized. She had not confirmed whether or not Teddy was aware of the time when they had started making their way back from the orchard, and even if he had known she doubted that the time was on his mind right now. He needed to think, to process, and, if she was being honest with herself, so did she. Not that she would have the chance.

"Go find your sister and get her ready for dinner," she said after a moment, making a snap decision. "Your papa and I need to talk to aunt Andie about something and it might take a while, so I want you and your sister to go ahead and eat without us. Can I trust you to make sure you and Isabelle do not make a mess?"

James' eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly, not even waiting for her to finish before he darted off down the hall to Isabelle's room. She turned in the other direction and began walking towards where she knew Harry was, second-guessing herself as she heard James knock loudly on Isabelle's door. She almost turned around, but she remembered how hungry the seven-year-old had been on the walk back and knew she would not complain if it meant she got to eat early. Normally they would have waited to eat until after Teddy had left, Andromeda preferred to cook for herself and Teddy on the days when she visited Ted's grave and Fleur didn't begrudge her it, but tonight she planned to keep them at the house for a while longer while they spoke to Andromeda about what was going on with Teddy.

Fleur grimaced as she began walking down the steps into the kitchen. It wasn't a good time to have the discussion, she knew today must have been harder on Andromeda than usual, but something told her that the discussion couldn't wait. She looked up as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, seeing that Harry was sitting at the work table and looking as serious as she felt. Their eyes met, and she knew that they were both thinking roughly the same thing. She took a deep breath, set her shoulders, and walked forward.


AN: Thank you for reading. If you liked the story then please leave a comment telling me what you think worked and what didn't, your feedback is crucial to helping me improve as an author and is always appreciated.

The link to the Harry/Fleur discord server can be found on my profile.

Fanfic Recommendation: The Family That Chooses You by WokFriedIce. A painful, beautiful, heart-wrenching story of kindness, acceptance, support, and compassion that I absolutely adore. In a way, it's even similar to this series as it focuses on vignettes from specific moments of Harry's life at Hogwarts from a variety of perspectives rather than a traditional narrative structure that labours under the necessity of directly connecting each event to the next one.