Teddy Lupin slammed the door to the Potters' home. His eyes were wild, and a wolfish grin was spread across his face. The 20-year-old was ecstatic; after visiting his grandfather in France for two weeks, he had come back to his 'summer home' (as he liked to call it) with a brand-new possession: a flying motorbike. Teddy had found it in Lyall's garage and nicked it. His grandfather was a reasonable man, but Teddy figured the old wizard has hidden it for a reason he didn't care to find out about.

"James!" He shouted, voice echoing throughout the house. "James, come down—oh, hello Albus," Teddy smiled, waving at the small boy. "I didn't see you there."

Albus Severus Potter was a small and quiet boy. Most people tended not to see him.

"That's alright, Teddy," Albus said with a soft smile. "I've just been reading—Mum told me where to find some of your old books from first year, since James threw his out." Albus pursed his lip. "They weren't really open, most of them…"

Teddy chuckled. "Oh, right. Well, didn't do much reading first year. I only read things I want to read—and you'll find people let things slide when you're mildly famous. Don't let it get to your head, though, kid," Teddy winked, then looked around.

"Your brother here? I have something to show him."

"Upstairs, I think. Got in trouble so he's talking to Dad—" Albus could barely finish before Teddy ran upstairs. Truthfully, Albus loved the boy but couldn't quite understand him. Occasionally the two would get along and could be found reading on the couch together. Mostly, Teddy was off doing something crazy with James. Albus didn't mind—when his brother was occupied, Al had some peace and quiet.

Teddy rushed up the stairs of his godparents' house and into James' room. Sure enough, Harry was giving him a talking-to. James was sitting at the foot of his bed, his father standing over him looking quite severe.

"Sorry to interrupt, Harry, god-cousin," he grinned, "But I have something very, very important to show James."

The boy smiled.

"Teddy, you're back!" He exclaimed. "Dad, are you done yet?'

"No," Harry said a bit forcibly, giving Teddy a strained look. "Look, you broke Lily's doll—"

"I didn't mean to," James said, half to Harry and half to the 'cousin' he adored. "I just needed to test out my new bat, for Quidditch—"

"You beat Lily's doll?!" Teddy asked incredulously, laughing. "Merlin, James, you can't test a bat out on a bloody doll!"

"Exactly," Harry said in agreement. "It was wrong to use it at the house, and—"

"No!" Teddy exclaimed. "Harry, you've got it all wrong—it's essential to test such things out properly—and I've got just the thing to help," he grinned. James looked positively about ti burst with excitement.

"Teddy," Harry said firmly. "You aren't helping—he needs discipline—"

"Discipline erodes a boy's spirit, Harry," Teddy said stubbornly, turning his hair black and growing a slight scar on his forehead. "'Teddy, don't yell. Teddy, read your schoolbooks, not dirty magazines. Teddy, I'm very important and never misbehaved,'" the boy said in a deep voice.

"I have never—"

"And it didn't do any good, did it?" Teddy asked, morphing back into himself fully. "I yell constantly and read as many dirty magazines as I like—it's literally part of my job," the boy winked. He had gotten a job at the ministry working with Hermione Granger to promote the rights of werewolves, house elves, and any other marginalized group. A brilliant student with a knack for arguing and proper devotion to the cause, he was a shoe-in. He hadn't told his family, however, since he had such a fun time letting them think he had taken on a job as a porn star. Hermione, while vaguely questioning her hiring choices, had to admit it was funny.

Harry sighed. Clearly no parenting was going to get done—today, or likely any other day.

"Fine," he said, giving in. "Go ahead, James. Just don't…" Harry trailed off. Whatever he told James and Teddy not to do, the boys would turn around and do just that.

"Thanks, Dad!"

"Thanks, Harry!"

James leapt off the bed and Teddy stated running, James chasing him all the way down the stairs. Albus had retreated up the stairs, knowing if he stayed in the living room there was a good chance of him being caught in the crossfire of some thing he had no desire to be a part of. Once downstairs, Teddy grabbed James and rubbed his head.

"Good to see you, little cousin."

"Right back at you, Ted," James grinned. "So, haven't told anyone about the new job?"

Teddy shrugged. "Just Victoire, you, and Hermione—of course. I've had too much fun messing around and I figured grandpa would give me some sappy story about my dad and say something like—'Ah, mon petit-fils, je suis si fier,'" He drawled in an obnoxious French accent. James rolled his eyes.

"Still," James began, "It's really cool you're doing this." Teddy once again shrugged.

"I don't see it as cool…It's just what I need to do. I feel like it fits. Besides," he began, rolling his eyes. "I need some company. There are surprisingly very few half-werewolves and it would be nice to form a little pack of us—though clearly none of them are as cool as I am," Teddy beamed. James laughed.

"You only think you're cool," the young teen insisted. "The more of your special little group you meet, the less interesting you will become."

"I hadn't thought of that," Teddy mused. "But still—very worth it. I want to be a part of a world where being part-werewolf is just as hot as being part-veela." James snorted.

"Dude, there is never going to be a world in which you are as good looking as your girlfriend—ow!" James yelped, Teddy hitting him on the head.

"You deserved that," Lupin said with a smirk. "Now, what I'm come all this way to show you—it's outside," Teddy began, heading to the front door. "It's super, super cool, so just hold on to that hairball on top of your head."

Eager, James hopped up next to his cousin as he opened the door and jogged out to the clearing in front of the Potter's residence.

"Ta-da!" Teddy exclaimed, brandishing his arms about in front of his brand-new, old, motorbike. James' brows furrowed.

"What…What is that? It looks like a hunk of rubbish," James said, laughing. Teddy's face fell, and his eyes narrowed.

"Is not," he insisted. "It's a flying motorbike!"

"Why would you need a flying motorbike," James quipped. "When you have a broom?"

Teddy scrunched up his face. "Well, because…" he trailed off. James raised a brow, waiting for an answer. His cousin's hair grew red. "Well, because it's bloody cool, damnit! Look," Teddy pointed to its handlebars. "Handlebars! Name a broom that has that!"

"You don't need handlebars," James retorted. "You just hold onto it—duh. Really Teddy, I don't see why you needed this—"

"Because it was my dad's," Teddy said, quietly. "I nicked it from old Lyall's garage—he hid it, and I'm sure it's because it used to be my father's."

James fell silent. Teddy very rarely got sentimental, but when he did it was always about his father—sure, the boy looked like Remus. But between being a metamorphagus and growing up in a house full of his mother's things and being raised primarily by his grandma, Teddy was more Tonks than anything else. He clung to the few objects his father had as if they were made of gold. Before James could say anything, he heard a deeper voice behind him.

"It wasn't Remus'."

James spun around, and Teddy's eyed widened. Harry sighed with a smile.

"I assume you wanted to take James on a spin, yes? Practice hitting things out of the air, since you know I don't let him fly around without supervision?"

Teddy remained silent. That had been exactly what he had planned on doing.

"That motorbike," Harry pointed to the old thing, "Belonged to Sirius Black. After that it belonged to Hagrid—who drove me home on it when I was a baby. After that, it was given to your father, who wouldn't touch it—too many memories, I suppose. Sirius did originally buy the bike for him," Harry added. "Seems fitting that you should have it now."

Teddy rubbed the back of his neck. "But…It was in grandpa's garage. I—I stole—"

"You didn't steal it," Harry assured the young Lupin. "Lyall sent me an owl the day before yesterday, saying to be prepared for you to bring it here—he saw you eyeing it. After your father passes, Lyall got his belongings. I expect there were too many memories associated with the bike for his comfort, so he stowed it away."

Teddy looked down at his feet. Harry sighed.

"I misspoke earlier. It may have been Sirius' bike in name—but it was your father's as well. I assume he wrote about it in his journal," Harry suggested, winking. He knew all about that old diary ever since Teddy had first visited his grandfather. "Take James out on a ride—Al and I could use the peace and quiet. Just be back in time for supper," he insisted before heading back in. James looked at Teddy.

"Aw, cheer up Ted. Dad says it's fitting you have it—the motorbike. It's not rubbish," James said, walking over to his cousin and putting a hand up on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I said that earlier. I'll grab my bat, and we can head out, yeah?"

Teddy looked down at his little cousin and smiled. "Yeah. Go grab your bat—we're going on a ride!"

The boys spent the better part of the hour riding around on the bike—Teddy had only ridden it from France earlier that day and was still somewhat shaky on it. Still, the boys landed back at the Potters' safe and sound. James spent all of dinner raving about the motorbike, and Teddy finally admitted what his actual job was—much to the delight and relief of everyone at the table. Ginny wouldn't admit it, but she had been quite worried that Teddy hadn't been kidding. After dinner, James and Albus played chess in the boys' room, Lily read with Harry and Ginny, and Teddy was left to his own devices—for once, something he was looking forward to.

He opened his trunk and pulled out a dusty old journal and his wand.

"Moi-même," he whispered with a smile. The diary came to life, and Teddy began to thumb through the pages of his and his father's journal, looking for some sign of the bike. Finally, he found something from 1980: Remus had written by the date, rather simply,

He came home with a motorbike.

Grinning, Teddy read on:

It's got to bed one of the stupidest things he's ever gotten. Honestly, I don't know what came over him. Yes, he's always loved the blasted things, but we're in the middle of a war: it seems a bit wrong to buy some sort of luxury vehicle when people are struggling just to survive.

Teddy snorted. 'Luxury vehicle' was a bit of a stretch.

He was so bloody excited for it, too: dragged me outside from a perfectly good book to show it to me, begged me to go on a ride with him—I refused at first and he got quite sad. Apparently, and I have no idea if this is true, he bought it for us. Said he wanted to take me on magical moonlit and romantic motorbike rides through the sky—did I mention the thing flies? Anyway, and this is a bit sweet, he knew how uncomfortable I found brooms and how difficult it was more me to ride by myself most of the time, so he figured a motorbike with a little sidecar attached would be perfect: he could remove the sidecar when I was feeling dandy, and when I wasn't, I could curl up in it and fall asleep.

I suppose given that explanation, I find the whole bike to be a bit better, but I'm not entirely convinced. This is the same boy who pined after bikes for years—I really think he loves them more than he loves me, which is saying something.

The bloody dog is now bothering me, asking me to 'stop writing or reading or whatever it is you do in that thing and come out on the bike.' If I didn't know any better, I would assume he wants to shag in the sidecar—

Teddy gulped.

-which is something I would never, ever do. I should go—the motorbike awaits.

RJL

Teddy sighed, relieved. His father sure had a sense of humor, he supposed. Teddy closed his journal, and headed to his cousins' room, ready to watch James lose miserably at a game of chess.