Author's note: My favourite duo, urgh I missed them. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the canon, world, and characters portrayed below and you can tell I'm not J.K. Rowling because #transrights
Warnings: Canon prejudice; mentions canon character loss
I'll Have To Tell You Better Stories
Harry bobbed Teddy up and down as he roamed the shelves of Flourish and Blotts, looking for a book all the other Aurors swore had helped them memorise all their potions and antidotes while they were studying. The problem was, he'd never been to Flourish and Blotts without Hermione and was quite convinced that he was in the wrong section entirely–though he had no desire to ask a salesperson for help since that would require drawing attention to himself. Teddy was gurgling and cooing as they went about their business, bundled against Harry's chest in the baby sling he wore.
"I know, we're almost done here, little guy," Harry said, reaching down to squeeze Teddy's little feet where they were hanging. "We'll get to the park pretty soon. Let's just go have a look in that other section, alright?"
As he walked away, Teddy lunged and made a grab for a book off a shelf. His grip wasn't quite good enough to grab something that heavy, but he did manage to knock a solid, royal blue book off the shelf. Its lettering was silver and there were little moons of various phases lining its freshly cracked spine.
"Oh, alright," Harry said–awkwardly bending down to pick up the latest victim of his godson's windmilling little arms. "What were you trying to grab for, Teddy? Were you trying to learn about… oh…"
He finally saw the title of the book when he picked it up again: The Hollscraft Handbook to Werewolves.
"Well, that's… that's very ironic of you," Harry said. "We'll try not to read too much into that, will we, Teddy? Maybe you're just reminding me I cheated you out of a bedtime story last night by subbing in lullabies. Here, let's have a look..."
He opened up the book again and flipped through its creamy, smooth parchment pages. He read quickly as he skimmed the volume, catching chapter titles from NATURAL DIET and KILLING METHODS and LARGEST ATTACKS IN BRITISH HISTORY. There were some pictures too, unfortunately–blood-thirsty beasts in dark ink and harsh lines that didn't look anything like Remus had when Harry had seen him transformed, that looked bloodthirsty and…
He shut the book at once and tucked it back on the shelf from which Teddy had knocked it off.
"I think that's quite enough of that, Teddy," Harry said. "Yes, more than enough, probably. We can do better than that. For one, we can get you storybooks with some colour in them. But we can also get you much better stories, truer stories, kinder stories."
The kind he would have learned from his parents, if they were still here. The kind he would have known about his dad, the kind that he would need to know to understand who he was and where he had come from… the kind that the world likely wouldn't take him. Wasn't that what Remus had always said, what Remus had always been so afraid of? Of the world only seeing those storybook monsters in him and in his son? Without knowing about Wolfsbane and nights in the shrieking shack, of the being that had grown softer and more controlled when its friends were at its side…
He kissed the blue top of Teddy's head and took a deep breath, letting the smell of baby soap fill his nose and calm him down.
"I do think you deserve better stories, Teddy," Harry said–thinking of soft paws, majestic antlers, and moonlight. "I'll start figuring out how to tell you all the best ones."
WC: 589