Teddy had been enjoying the quiet, serene environment of the Lupin household. He had managed to get more schoolwork done in two days here than he had in two weeks with the Potters. Given his progress, Teddy decided to take an opportunity to write a letter to Victoire Weasley—the object of his affections. Technically yes; the was the cousin of his 'cousins,' but she certainly wasn't his family, as far as Teddy was concerned. And yes, she was a year younger than himself. But that didn't stop Teddy, who had it instilled in him that age was no object when it came to love. The boy was working at the kitchen table, when he heard what was now becoming a familiar interruption in his day to day life.

"What are you working on?" Lyall asked Teddy, who was fervently writing in his journal. The boy flushed pink, his hair turning a similar shade.

"Rien," He muttered, practicing his French, hoping that would steer his grandfather off track. Lyall beamed for a moment, then furrowed his brows, taking a seat next to his grandson.

"I know that look…that's a girl, you're writing to, non?" He asked with a smirk. Teddy blushed even more furiously.

"Non," He replied curtly, still scribbling away. Lyall paused, then his eyes lit up once more.

"A boy? Really, Teddy, you can be—"

"Merlin, no it's not a boy!" Teddy scoffed. "Why would you even ask?"

Lyall was a bit taken aback. He paused a moment, unsure how to respond.

"I just thought…I mean, your father…"

"My father liked boys?" Teddy asked, incredulously. "But…But he got married!" Teddy exclaimed, dropping his quill. "To my mum. For goodness sake, he…well, you know, here I am…"

"Teddy," Lyall interjected. "Really, I didn't mean to shock you…I just thought you knew is all. I believe he tended to jump the border, if you get what I mean." Teddy's blank expression told Lyall that the boy had no idea. "Well...he was fairly open about it to his friends…though I suppose you never really met them," Lyall said quietly. Teddy was still in shock, until…

"He was?" He asked breathlessly. But in a way…It made sense. In every picture of his father that Lyall had put in Teddy's room—and there were quite a lot—he was always with his friends. But there was one friend he was with more than the others. A shaggy-haired boy. A boy who always had his arm around his father, in every single picture, who was always simply closer to him than the others. "You don't mean…"

"Your father had a type: those who were the opposite of himself. First a Black family boy, then—and I know your mother would recoil at this—a Black family girl. Hope, your grandmother, never really understood…very conservatively British, she was. But she did her best. After all, it's fairly easy to accept anything once you realize your son is a werewolf," Lyall chuckled. It was the same argument Remus had used to explain to her. "Both were spirited, stubborn, and easily offended…traits I see quite clearly in you, if you don't mind my saying."

"Not at all," Teddy assured his grandfather. "I just never thought…I mean, Sirius and my dad were best friends. I thought that was it."

"So did many," Lyall posited. "It was harder for them, back in their time. And your father really did love them both. But I knew it wouldn't last with Sirius. Even with his untimely death, it was never going to be him. I can't put my finger on it…but your mother completed Remus, truly. He was happier than I ever saw him in my entire life. But he reached a new level of joy when he had you. I imagine it was the best month of his life."

Teddy paused. He hadn't thought about that. If his father did love them both, how could his grandfather be so sure? Who was to say that Teddy would have even been born?

"I know what you're thinking," Lyall said. "But I can assure you: Tonks was the only one your father could have ever married—likely because she was the only one with the guts to make him see that he should be as happy as he deserved to be. I don't mean to put your father in a melodramatic light—he was, mostly, happy—but he always had a certain sadness to him. Now, enough about that bugger—who is the lucky lady?" Lyall asked, winking. Teddy groaned. He really thought they had been derailed.

"Er…Her name is Victoire."

"Victoire! She must be French! Well, you're going to need to do a lot better than some love note for her. You need more romance, my boy!"

"Romance?" Teddy gulped. That was not his strong suit. He had been working on writing the beautiful blonde a letter for well over a month, and had scrapped all of his drafts. "I…I don't know…"

"Nonsense," Lyall scoffed. "You're a Lupin! We have the greatest love stories of all, and they certainly don't begin with a letter. You must have some ideas," Lyall insisted. Teddy shrugged, his face and hair still bright pink.

"Uh…" He began, furrowing his brows in thought. "She likes…flowers?"

"Yes!" Lyall cheered, grabbing a sheet of parchment and Teddy's quill. He wrote down fleurs in an elegant script. "An excellent start: you enchant the letter, have flowers spring forth with each word she reads," Lyall said romantically. "That's what I did with Hope—she had never seen such a thing, and not just because she was a Muggle. What else?"

"Er…Chocolate?" Teddy prompted. "Everyone likes chocolate, right?"

"Excellent!" Lyall exclaimed, back to his vigorous writing. "We'll buy her the finest chocolates this side of Paris, enclose them within. This is a great foundation for your first letter."

"My…first?" Teddy nearly choked on his own words. "You mean, there's more?"

"Of course there's more!" Lyall roared. "You don't expect that one letter with chocolates and flowers will be enough, do you? Merlin, what have you been learning all these years?" Teddy simply shrugged. Clearly, whatever he said would not be enough for his grandfather.

"Well, if you're so wise, what should I write?" Teddy quipped. Lyall laughed.

"Oh, you're not going to write anything. You clearly need guidance—let me help you."

Lyall raced upstairs—well, raced as fast as any eighty-two-year-old could—and came back down with a pink sheet of parchment that smelled vaguely of roses. Teddy had never seen anything like it in his whole life and couldn't help but think how much his friends would be making fun of him if they knew what he was spending his summer doing with his grandfather. But he had to smile. The enthusiasm Lyall showed was more than Teddy could take with a straight face, and he wondered how much of his own father's luck in love was a result of Lyall Lupin. With new parchment and a new bottle of ink, the two Lupin men became hard at work crafting the perfect letter to send to Victoire. Teddy did, to his credit, have the occasional good idea every now and then, which always led to Lyall shouting some form of praise which echoed throughout the cottage and likely into the neighbors' homes as well. Finally, after nearly an hour of work, the two were done.

"Read it to me," Lyall said. "With conviction."

Teddy flushed, and, after clearing his throat, began to read:

Dearest Victoire,

Spending the summer in France, I could say that it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

"Grandpa, this is—"

"Keep reading!" Lyall bellowed.

That would, however, be a lie. For even the sun setting over the beautiful countryside pales in comparison to the sight of you. It seems almost cruel, that I should be here and not able to fully enjoy the beauty around me, for my days are spent imagining you. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees is cacophonous compared to the allure of your voice. The sun, however bright, is dark when compared to your sharp wit. Even the songs of the birds can bring me no joy, knowing that you and I are apart.

Ma

"Grandpa, I don't know how to read this, it's in French," Teddy complained. Lyall rolled his eyes.

"Then I will continue for you," He said matter-of-factly.

Ma Cherie, t'est l'amour de ma vie. La seule rose dans le jardin de mon couer.

"There, that wasn't hard," Lyall said. Teddy was shocked.

"But I don't even know what it means!" He yelped. "We can't send something I don't understand."

"Oh?" Lyall said, rather offhandedly. "Well, you tell me…do you have eyes for anyone other than Victoire?" He asked. Teddy shook his head. "And," Lyall continued, "Do you think she enjoys nature, flowers, and beauty?"

"Well, who doesn't?" Argued Teddy.

"Then there you have it! They're your intentions, simply…better," Lyall said, too proud of his work to search for a different word. Teddy looked somewhat offended, but knew arguing would get him nowhere.

"Alright, alright, then I'll continue reading."

Until we meet again, I'll be only thinking of you.

Yours,

Edward

"No one calls me Edward," Teddy insisted. "I've never gone by that a day in my life."

"But you must admit," Lyall insisted, "It sounds far more romantic that the idea of a teddy bear."

"But that's what she calls me!" Teddy exclaimed, then his eyes widened when he realized what he had done.

"You never told me she had a pet name for you!" Lyall exclaimed. "How could you leave this out? This is crucial information—here," Lyall grabbed the parchment, waved his wand, and changed the signature. Teddy looked over to see what his grandfather had written and groaned.

Your Teddy Bear

"Absolutely not!" Teddy yelled. "No way, there is no way I'm sending this," He told his grandfather. "Please, please don't do this to me."

"Well I'm not daft, my boy," Lyall scoffed. "Clearly, we won't be sending this. Not without including a teddy bear with the owl, holding a little box of chocolates to its heart."

"Grandpa!"

A few days later, an owl arrived to the Weasley house. Victoire broke out in tears, her mother Fleur finding her with the letter, chocolates, flowers, and of course, the teddy bear.

"Victoire!" Fleur called out, wondering what had befallen her fourteen-year-old daughter. "Qu'est-il arrive?"

"It's…it's Teddy," Victoire managed between her sobs. "I had no idea…he's so romantic…"