January 2004
Harry sat in his study with a glass of firewhisky in hand and a furrow between his brows. He stared unseeing at the opposite wall, lost in thought.
Andromeda was dead.
The words were playing on a loop in his head. It was longer than they thought they'd have with her when she announced in July that her magic was failing.
But it hadn't been long enough.
She'd gone peacefully, a gleam in her eye that confirmed what she had privately confided in Harry: as much as she would miss Teddy, she was looking forward to seeing her family beyond the Veil. Ted. Nymphadora. Remus. They were all waiting for her, and she was ready.
How do you tell a five-year-old that?
Harry did not have a single fucking clue. They'd tried. (And by they, he absolutely meant Hermione.) But Teddy didn't truly understand the significance of what happened. Despite the fact that he was an immensely bright boy — something Hermione had preemptively bragged about — all he really knew was that he missed his grandmother. A smile flitted across his face as he thought of his girlfriend. Gods, he loved her so much that sometimes the mere thought of her made it hard to fucking breathe. And he was so grateful for her, desperately aware of the fact that he never would have been able to do this without her. She was the only reason he was able to keep it together for Teddy during the day; the knowledge that regardless of how many times Harry broke in her arms, she would painstakingly put the pieces of him back together.
He took a generous sip of his firewhisky, relishing in the burn as he swallowed it down.
Harry didn't think that tonight would be the night that suddenly made Teddy understand the intricacies of human mortality, but he did feel this inexplicable pull to be near his godson.
A boy he was rapidly viewing as his own.
Releasing a heavy sigh, Harry threw back the rest of his firewhisky with a single gulp. He nodded to himself and wandlessly cast a breath-freshening charm on himself. Pulling himself out of the leather desk chair Hermione had bought him in Muggle London, he gathered himself to walk down the hall to Teddy's room.
The light was still on, shining beneath his door. Casting a quick tempus, Harry noted that it was only around half seven. Perfect. He knocked lightly — emphatic that Teddy had the privacy and personal space that was never afforded to him growing up — and waited for his godson to respond before opening the door.
The metamorphmagus was seated on the floor, focused intently on the Hot Wheels set Hermione had bought him. As he glanced around the room, Harry laughed to himself at the realization that he might need to talk to his girlfriend about overindulging when purchasing toys for Teddy.
Hazel eyes met green as Teddy looked up from what he was doing and Harry smiled.
"Hey there, Teddy," he said, moving to sit on the floor next to him. "What are you doing?"
He held out a chubby hand with a singular toy car in it. "Cars."
Harry chuckled, "That looks like a lot of fun." Teddy ignored him in favour of smashing his toys together and Harry grimaced. There were so many books — magical and muggle alike — on raising children, but none on how to bloody talk to them. Awkwardly, he tried again, "Would you like to hear a story?"
Teddy paused what he was doing. "A story?"
Harry expelled a relieved breath. "Yes—one of the best there is." He peeled the car from his godson's grip, rolling it along the floor as Teddy's gaze trailed its path. "Do you remember the stories Mia and I tell you about your dad?" At Teddy's nod, he continued, "Well, I don't know if you know this, but your dad and mine were best friends."
The five-year-old's hands stilled and he looked up at him curiously. "Really? "
Harry couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. "Really. Your dad and mine were roommates at Hogwarts, along with a friend named Sirius." Harry omitted Peter Pettigrew from the fairytale; even now, he couldn't bring himself to speak Pettigrew's name. "They became friends almost the moment they met and were inseparable after that. They called themselves the Marauders."
"Marauders?" Teddy questioned, his mouth unable to fully form around the unfamiliar word. It came out a little bit like Mawauders.
"The Marauders," Harry confirmed with a nod. "Pretty cool name, huh? They even gave each other nicknames. Sirius's name was Padfoot because he learned how to turn into a big, shaggy dog."
Teddy flashed Harry a toothy grin, briefly burying his head in his hands with an excited laugh. Harry smiled in return, running his hand through Teddy's quarrelsome locks.
"My dad, James, was Prongs. He could turn into a deer, with great big antlers on his head." Harry simulated the growth of horns from his head and Teddy erupted into giggles. He scooted closer to Harry, regarding him like he was the centre of the universe.
Harry reached for Teddy, and the young metamorphmagus allowed his godfather to tug him into a hug.
"And your dad, he had the coolest nickname of all. His was Moony. Do you remember why?"
"Werewolf," Teddy stated clearly. Harry chuckled; maybe Hermione was right about Teddy's unprecedented brilliance.
"That's right, he was a werewolf. And on every full moon, the three of them would turn into their animals and play in the forest for all hours of the night. They always looked out for each other, even after they graduated from Hogwarts. I was born a couple of years after that and the three of them were so excited for the first Marauder baby. They gave me a nickname too, when I was even smaller than you are now. Do you know what it was?"
Teddy shook his head, his hair brushing against Harry's chin. His godson leaned against his chest with a sniffle, and the small sound filled Harry with a sort of bittersweet awareness of how much they had both lost — regardless of what they had gained.
"They called me Prongslet," Harry rasped, his throat thick with emotion. "After my dad, Prongs. I was his little Prongslet."
He giggled. "That's a silly name."
Harry smiled. "Isn't it? But I was thinking… you're the son of a Marauder — just like me. And I think you need a Marauder-worthy nickname too."
Teddy's eyes were wide as he stared up at Harry.
"After all, if Padfoot and Prongs were here, they'd insist—" he broke off, Teddy nearly crawling up his chest in anticipation.
Harry snorted. "I can see you like the sound of that. Well, your dad was Moony, so what if I call you Mini Moons?" he suggested, curious to see how Teddy would take to the nickname.
His little face scrunched up in thought, he whispered, "Mini Moons?" and Harry hummed in agreement.
A beaming smile broke out across the young boy's face. "That's a silly name too!"
"It's a very silly name," Harry laughed. "Do you like it?"
Teddy could only nod and Harry smoothed an affectionate hand through his sandy brown hair. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Teddy's head, overwhelmed once more by the staggering parallels between his own existence and his godson's.
Wrapping his arms around Harry's torso, Teddy squished his face against Harry's jumper and mumbled something he couldn't decipher.
"What was that?"
Teddy shifted slightly and whispered, "Love you."
Harry melted, squeezing Teddy even tighter.
"Mini Moons, I love you so much," he murmured. "More than all the stars in the night sky."
Teddy pulled back, a solemn expression on his face. "That's a lot."
Snorting, Harry could only shake his head. "It is, and I mean every word of it. You and Mia, you are my family; my whole entire world. I love you two more than all the stars in the night sky— and more ." He poked Teddy in the side, cherishing the giggle that escaped him. "Don't you ever forget that, Mini Moons."
Teddy whispered, "Okay."
Harry stifled the sob building in his chest, willing himself to hold it together until he could fall apart in the safety of Hermione's arms.
"Okay," he breathed.
That night, beneath the weight of a muffliato, Harry shattered; sobbing incoherently as Hermione clutched at him in a desperate bid to shelter him from the storm that ripped through every inch of him. She peppered his face with kisses, whispering promises and declarations of love against his briny skin.
When he finally caught his breath, Harry cupped her cheeks in his hands. "Thank you," he whispered hoarsely. "I love you so much. I couldn't face this without you."
Hermione simply brushed his hair away from his swollen face with a tender expression. "Harry, I think you forget sometimes that I would do quite literally anything for you." A dizzying warmth filled his chest as he glanced around the cottage she had bought for the sole purpose of shielding him from the horrors of the world.
"I think maybe sometimes I do," he softly admitted.
Her nose crinkled as she grinned at him. "Silly man. I love you too."
Another strangled cry broke free of his chest; Hermione frowning in concern. "Harry?"
Shaking his head, he merely pulled her closer. He tucked her tiny body against his in an attempt to comfort himself with her presence as he wept silently, shaking both of their frames. Despite the fact that he fell asleep by her side every night and woke up wrapped in her embrace each morning, Harry was still floored by Hermione's unwavering support.
"No one—" he choked out between sobs. "No one has ever loved me the way you do. Gods, Mia, I just told Teddy that I love you more than all the stars in the night sky but that doesn't even begin to cover it."
Harry pulled back to meet her gaze; tear-filled cinnamon-brown eyes stared back at him. He brushed a kiss against her lips before pressing his forehead against hers. "Every day I wake up and thank the gods that you decided I'm worthy enough to return the sentiment. You, Hermione Jean, are the love of my life and I shudder to imagine a world without you by my side."
"Oh, Harry," she breathed. "It was never a decision. I knew you were worth it the moment I sat next to you — with your oversized clothes and broken glasses — on the train. I've never once questioned that decision. And I certainly don't plan on going anywhere. Not when I have a man who loves me more than all the stars in the night sky and more." He huffed a small laugh and Hermione smiled tearily. "Looks like you're stuck with me."
"My cariad, " Harry whispered brokenly and Hermione pulled him close without a second thought.
"I've got you," she soothed. "I've always got you."
And she did.
She always had.