Chapter Four

Tell Me Where It Hurts

I don't know why I'm awake, suddenly, in the middle of the night. I remember immediately that I fell asleep worried, and I am sure that I heard a noise. Then I recall that Teddy got sick in Wales and we came home early. I don't even bother dressing before I am speeding down the hall to check on him, and the bottoms of my loose cotton pants are flapping against my ankles because I'm nearly running, while the coolness of the air in the house is a shock against my bare chest. I don't have the sling on, but the pain in my arm doesn't even register.

I crack the door slowly to peek inside, not wanting to wake him if he's asleep, but then I hear a stifled sob, and I fling the door open to hurry into the room. If he's really sick and I have to take him to the hospital, I'm going to kill myself—if only so his grandmother doesn't go to jail for brutal murder.

"Bug?" I'm whispering as I sit down on the edge of the bed. "Lumos." When I finally get a look at him, I'm in shock.

His face is wet with tears, and his gloved hands are gripping his elbows, holding his arms close to his chest. Unsure of what to do, I put my hand on his forehead and pull it back with a hissing noise.

"Shit. Bug, you're burning up. I've got to call someone."

"No," he whimpers. "You can't."

"I have to, little guy, you're really sick. Will your Healer know what to do?"

Teddy sobs again. "I don't go to the Healer anymore. She can't help."

"Teddy, I don't . . . is this normal?"

"You're not supposed to know," he says, his voice gone trembling from his tears. "You should go away."

"What do you mean?" There is a sinking feeling, like I'm flying and my broom just failed.

"Grandma says not to tell you. She says I have to be tough until we figure it out."

"Grandma is full of shit," is the only answer I can think of. "Teddy, why are you crying? Does it hurt?"

He bites his lip. He doesn't want to tell me. The idea that he might not trust me is like a stab in the heart.

"Teddy, it's me. You know that I want to help you and take care of you. But I can't if you won't tell me what's wrong. Where does it hurt?"

Suddenly he screws up his face and flings himself over my lap. "It itches!" he wails.

"What?" I stammer, startled, putting a hand on his shaking back. "Where?"

"Everywhere," he cries. "I have to put these on so I don't scratch!"

Because I'm looking for it now, I see what the dimness of the light has hidden thus far. His skin looks red and irritated, and, even stranger, what I thought was shadows shifting around his head is actually his hair going through subtle changes in colour. This is weird, because he had control over basic Metamorphagy before he was three.

I can't ask him, though, because he's crying in earnest now, his face buried in my lap. My bruised arm is throbbing, but I tell the pain to cram it, and carefully lift Bug up to hold him against my chest and run my hand over his back.

"Grandma— will— be— mad— at— me," he hiccups. He's smearing snot on me, and it's really disgusting, but I am determined to do my job, here. If I can ignore my protesting arm, I can ignore some mucous. Even if I am more practiced at dealing with my own pain than with snot—and if that doesn't tell you something about me, I don't know what does.

"You let me worry about Grandma," I say firmly. Even though my knees go a little weak at the idea of confrontation with the woman (she does not remind me of her sister Bellatrix, not in the least, no sir), I am more angry than I can express. This appears to be a regular occurrence, and Andromeda has been hiding it from me. How dare she hide anything about Teddy, especially his health, from me?

But Teddy doesn't need that right now, and no matter how I'm feeling, it's what Teddy needs that I have got to focus on.

"I'll talk to her, so don't worry about that, okay? Shh, it's okay, I've got you now. I know you don't feel good. I'm sorry. I guess you can cry if you need to. Can you try to sleep? Shh, that's it. There you go. Just try to get some sleep."

He's exhausted from his torment and from his tears, but sleep doesn't seem to be coming. I'm exhausted myself, but no way in hell am I leaving him now. Still talking nonsense about how it's okay, even though it's clearly not, I lay down beside him and let him cuddle up to me. At one point, he suddenly rips a glove off and starts scratching at his arms, but I grab hold of both of his wrists and hold tight. He pushes his face against me and lets me restrain him, and somehow, he manages to fall asleep that way, salty tears drying all over his face and my shoulder. I would never in a thousand years cry for anything, even this (No, doctor, I'm not trying to repress my emotions because nobody ever cared about them). Well, maybe in a thousand years. Or maybe just while looking at that tired, scared face pressed against me—and then, it's only a couple of tears anyway.

I'm not sure at what point during the night I finally fell asleep, but I wake abruptly at dawn. I guess I let go of Teddy's wrists at some point, and now he's curled up like a shrimp at the very edge of the bed, sleeping soundly. I cautiously reach out to put my hand to his forehead, and find it to be perfectly average. Slightly sticky from dried sweat, but not hot anymore.

I decide to pull him back a little, so he doesn't fall off the bed. Then I walk over to the window to crack it open and let some fresh air into the room. I blink wearily at the pink horizon, and see the full orb of the moon still lingering above in the gray sky. I frown at the moon. Why does it bother me?

Oh, shit. It's full. It's the full sodding moon. I whirl back around and stare at Teddy. His body rises and falls with his deep, even breathing. He looks perfectly sound, now. Is that what woke me? The sudden release in the tension of his body?

"No wonder Grandma wanted to keep it a secret," I mutter, but I'm trying desperately to think. The kid didn't transform, at least not that I saw. Was that what was causing his skin to itch so much? Was it trying to grow fur?

I take this moment to admit that I have absolutely no idea what to do. With that admission, I suddenly feel better. If I don't know, then I have a plan. The plan is to find out what's going on. Andromeda will be back in two days, and she'd better have some answers for me. If she doesn't, I'll find somebody who does. And I have no doubt that being who I am will get me what I want.

For the first time in a good long while, I'm grimly glad to be Harry Potter.

Only an hour later, an owl shows up at the kitchen window, while I am staring into the pantry like it holds the meaning of life and not the possibility of something to make for breakfast. Kreacher wanted to make breakfast, but I need some time to think, and cooking might help. The owl is distinctly weird-looking, with big ear tufts and a blind eye and a missing claw, but it seems to be rather patient as it scratches at the window pane.

"Hello, and who do you belong to?" I ask it, slightly bemused to be receiving mail at seven o'clock in the morning from an owl that looks like it lost a fight. It's a snowy owl, and it probably used to be beautiful, except the oversized tufts.

The owl twists its head around and stares at me with its good eye. Pretty intelligent bird, then. It raises the foot with the missing digit to allow me access to the letter it carries.

It's addressed to "My friend Harry Potter," and I suddenly have a suspicion about who sent it. I open it up quickly and have my guess confirmed.

Dear Harry,

The sky was quite beautiful this morning, I hope you saw it. I am writing to see if Teddy is all right. I hated to see him sick, and I hope that he is better this morning. You told me that he gets ill regularly, so maybe I shouldn't worry. I think I am worried, though. You were frightened. It's okay to be frightened sometimes, of course, but if it helps to talk about it you may call me.

The bird carrying this letter is my new owl. Isn't she lovely? The witch at the store where I got her said she needed a good home but no one would take her because she's so unattractive. I don't know what made the witch say that, because she's perfect! She is very intelligent, and so far she seems to be very loyal. She reminds me very much of the owl you had when you were at Hogwarts. May I name my owl Hedwig, in her honour?

I've attached a form to your letter. It's for permission to quote Teddy in my article about My Magical Friends. Rolf said I should send it so the magazine could be more professional, and I promised him I would because he insisted, even though I didn't think it was necessary. I don't think he believes that you and I have been friends for such a long time. I didn't tell him that I knew he felt jealous. I think Ginny would be proud that I didn't tell him, don't you? She's told me many times that I shouldn't reveal how perceptive I can be.

Please send the form back to me, if you can, so I can tell Rolf that you did when I send him a copy of the article. And please do tell me if Teddy is feeling better.

Have a good morning!

Love, Luna

I am grinning by the time I get to the end of the letter. If anything was going to make me feel better about things, it would be Luna. I scribble off a quick note to let her know that Teddy feels better, that I would be honoured if she would name her owl Hedwig, and that Rolf Scamander can jump in a lake if he thinks I'd try to get Luna in trouble. I do send along the form, though, just in case. Andromeda's going to be upset enough about the rest of it, and Luna may well pick a really wacky quote from Teddy. (Okay, it's almost guaranteed. She's great and all, but that doesn't mean she's normal.)

Teddy comes downstairs just as I am letting Hedwig, Mark II, out.

"Good morning," I say to him.

He glances up at me, and shuffles over to the table and sits down with a frightened look. I wait for him to say something.

"Don't tell Grandma you saw me," he blurts out.

I give him a very stern look. "I most certainly will talk to your grandma. But I don't want you to worry about that, Bug. It's going to be a grown-up conversation, and you're not in trouble. I promise."

He still looks nervous.

"I won't tell anyone else, okay?"

He relaxes just a little. "Okay."

I glance into the pantry again, and just sigh and reach for a box of cold cereal.

I can't believe I just promised Bug I wouldn't tell anyone. I want to tell Ginny because I tell her everything, and I want to tell Hermione because she is bound to have a rational explanation for the whole thing, just filed away in whatever part of the filing cabinet in her brain is reserved for topics related to lycanthropy. A rational explanation would be great, just now. But it would now require me to go behind Teddy's back and break his heart, and I'm not about to do that.

Ginny arrives when Kreacher is taking away our milky bowls and spoons. I am almost pathetically pleased that she came to check on us, and she soon has Teddy forgetting that he's worried. She's telling him that they won last night because the Snitch was running away from the other Seeker's B.O., and that one of their Beaters is actually a man who's been cursed to look like a witch and that's why she can pack such a wallop with the Beater's Bat . . . Teddy is giggling like mad. I shouldn't be surprised that Ginny knows what five year old boys find humorous, with all her older brothers to learn from.

I pull up a chair and put my arms around Ginny from behind her while she regales Bug with a story of what happened when Fred got dragonpox. The details are a bit . . . Well, it was Fred. But it's making Bug laugh, and that's what counts. I know it's still sort of hard to talk about Fred, and I'm amazed at Ginny's generosity in doing it just to make Teddy feel better.

I drop my chin onto her shoulder and feel extremely content. I was nearly having a stroke this morning, but between Luna and Ginny, I'm back to normal. I am a lucky guy.

Today is the day, I think. Ginny's right here, and I can finish what I wanted to do last night. But when I look for the engagement ring, it isn't there. I feel sick to my stomach, and I realise that I dropped it at some point last night. It is probably laying in a gutter somewhere, and I will have to wait until I know Ginny is busy before I can go back there to look for it.

There is something, in some unidentified place that niggles at me . . . that says it's a sign. That I'm not supposed to propose. (No, doctor, for the last time, I don't hear voices! Anymore, that is. Since Voldemort died. And this isn't a voice anyway. What do you mean, paranoid schizophrenia?) I tell the unidentified place to go to hell because I love Ginny like mad, and resolve to ask someone in my department to take a discreet look around Holyhead for me.

Teddy is quiet over the next couple of days. I contemplate taking the time off work, but I don't think I can handle any more favours given out to me. So I take Bug to visit Granny Weasley, and I suck it up and go to work. I tell him over and over that it's all right for me to know. I even have the remarkable fortitude to restrain myself from reminding him that we don't lie in my house and he's broken that rule. It would have been impossible for him to sort out whether he should obey Andromeda or me on this issue—it's too big for him. I just give him all the reassurance I can.

But he's still quiet. Even when I beg Percy into coming over to spend an hour or two with him. I don't know what I'm going to do. This isn't one of the things I prepared for when I realised this kid was my responsibility. Earaches, temper tantrums, constant noise, all the normal kid stuff, I was ready for that. Instead I got a quiet, polite kid . . . and this. I wasn't ready for this.

But then, who is?

Andromeda looks tanned and relaxed as I open the door wide to let her into the house. Bug isn't even downstairs to greet her, probably because he thinks we'll be at each other's throats first thing. I think I feel a little guilty that I have to go and ruin Andromeda's holiday for her. Maybe I can wait until tomorrow?

I will forever maintain that she started it. (No, doctor, it's because she really did! I'm not avoiding blame!) Or maybe it's because I'm stupid and forgot to hide the sling for my arm, which was supposed to come off yesterday but which I will have to wear for another few days because I messed it up carrying Bug around. Either way, she asks.

"I got hurt at work," I say in a voice that conveys a complete lack of concern. "Totally minor, nothing to worry about."

She frowns at me. "Did you at least have someone helping you out here, with Teddy?"

"Er, Kreacher's here . . . ?"

"Harry," she says, her frown deepening. "It's a great responsibility, to care for Teddy, and not one you should undertake with an injury. If something happened to him, and you were unable to help because you were—"

The snort that comes shooting out of me is not on purpose. But once it's out, there's no reason to hold back, is there? (No, I am not throwing myself into confrontation, and I have never, ever done so.)

"Something like him getting sick, you mean?"

The flash of worry in her eyes is not my imagination. But she just gracefully takes a seat in the chair she always sit in when she's here.

"I take it he got one of his little fevers, then? Is he all right?"

"Oh, yeah, he's fine now. But why wouldn't he be? The moon is already waning."

She jerks in her seat so violently that she grabs onto the sides of it to keep herself seated. "What is that supposed to mean?" she snaps.

I am not thinking about Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I guess I need to tell you something. See, the thing is, Teddy got an awful fever on the night of the full moon, and his skin was itching very badly, and he couldn't maintain control of his Metamorphmagy. I hate to have to bring this up, but you obviously don't know, or you would have told me. Right?"

She is pale, and draws herself up regally, and her lips are a thin slash mark. "Harry," she beings in a very cool, calm voice.

I'm the one jumping up out of my seat. "You didn't tell me!" I snap at her. "What did you think? That I was going to reject him or something?"

"I didn't tell you because I don't know what it is, yet," she replies, her face and voice and whole self seeming tight.

"What it is?" I repeat, almost laughing. "He's turning into a werewolf."

"No, he isn't," she says firmly. She looks so sure of herself that I know immediately this isn't denial, and I force myself back into my seat to listen. "If he were going to, he would have done it by now. That's what the Healer told me."

"Teddy said he didn't go to her, anymore."

"Because she told me she couldn't help me, and told me I needed to find a specialist."

"Well? Have you found one?"

There is a bitter laugh that escapes from her, cut off so quickly I almost think I imagined it. "And just who specialises in this? Teddy's case is entirely unique."

"Werewolves have had kids before," I say staunchly.

"A few," she agrees. "But of those few, none of them have had one with a Metamorphmagus, and none of their offspring have turned up with an illness related to the cycle of the moon."

"What, none?" I stammer, and I'm completely stunned. I'd thought surely, someone, somewhere . . .

"My only recourse at this point is to get in contact with a research facility somewhere. There is one specifically dedicated to lycanthropy in Switzerland, and there's a sort of experimental clinic for many unusual maladies based out of Spain . . ."

"You mean you're moving Teddy out of the country?" I ask, slightly panicked at the whole thing. I had no idea it was so serious, and now to think he might be gone, just when I'm starting to get a feel for this whole thing! I think wildly for a moment that I won't allow her to take the Bug away from me, but she is still composed, and still talking, and I make myself focus on her.

"No, Harry. At least, not now. I don't trust any of the facilities I've been hearing about. As far as I can see, they are about sensationalism and grotesqueries. I've yet to hear a good word about these places. They don't want to cure those poor suffering people, they only want to study them. No, I would never take my grandson to them. Not if there is any other recourse in the world, and maybe not then."

I feel like I'm missing something, even while I am reassured by this. It nags at me, but I don't know how to voice the question that I feel I should be asking. I can't seem to figure out the question.

"Do you want something to drink?" I finally say, opening my mouth to call Kreacher.

"No, thank you," she says politely. "I'd like to go home, and get unpacked, I think. The holiday was lovely, but travelling wears me out."

"Oh, er, of course. Teddy's in his room. Hopefully getting his stuff together."

Andromeda goes upstairs, with me trailing after her, to get Teddy. As I come up behind her where she stands in Teddy's doorway, I see that he has left off packing up what he brought with him, to give her one of his patented under-the-fringe-of-hair looks.

"Are you mad at me?"

She pauses for just a second too long, and I want to strangle her. But I ball my hands up into fists and resist the temptation. (See? I am capable of restraint!) Then she says, "No, darling. It was bound to happen eventually."

Notice how she doesn't actually say it wasn't his fault, like he should have done a better job of hiding it from me? Notice how I am still restrained enough not to jump her from behind and force the words out of her? It's a close thing, though.

Teddy shoves the rest of his stuff into the bag he brought with him, and we all head back downstairs. But at the landing, I suddenly pick Teddy up, desperate to make sure that he understands my position on this whole thing before he leaves. I throw him over my shoulder, digging my fingers into his ribs and eliciting both giggles and shrieks. He drops the bag, but I squeeze my fingers over the wand in my pocket and it floats along behind us.

"It's going to be okay, Bug," I say softly, right into his ear. "It wasn't your fault that I found out, and it's not a bad thing that I did. I'm going to do anything I can to help you get better. Do you believe me?"

His breath whuffs out of him as he stops squirming. "Yeah," he says at last. "You're not allowed to lie."

"That's right," I say firmly, and tickle his sides again. I can't resist pulling a face at Andromeda, who is standing there with a look of complete patience that makes it all the more obvious she doesn't think much of boyish antics and horseplay. Well, maybe she thinks I'm too old for them or something, what with my being 22. Someone should have told her that guys never actually grow up.

Lucas has been feeling a little guilty about doing such a rough job on my arm and forcing me into desk work for the better part of a week. So it's not too hard to convince him to take a look around the Quidditch stadium and the pub for the engagement ring I dropped. I'd go myself, but I don't want to risk having Ginny see me on the street.

He doesn't find it, and I feel even more depressed. Maybe it really is a sign.

I get a note from Neville, asking me if I asked her yet. I send a note back, deciding to be honest, and tell him I lost the ring. Ever the voice of logic, Neville sends back another note asking me why I don't get another one.

Okay, maybe it's not a sign. Maybe it's just me being dumb. I still have my mother's ring, after all. But it doesn't seem to suit Ginny. That ring, that was the one that would have been right for her, and I don't know how I'll be able to ask her to marry me if I don't have a ring that looks right on her hand. She'll notice it's wrong, won't she?

And just now, I'm feeling too worried about other things. Teddy's illness is never far from my mind, and I really do have to figure out some way to help Andromeda find a solution. I think I'm going to ask Teddy if it's okay for me to tell his Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione (who, like me, is grateful that Teddy is old enough to say her name properly—Ninnie is just as embarrassing as Hey-hee, after all) about it, so the three of us can brainstorm. We always did do better as a group.

Then it finally occurs to me. The question I should have asked.

If the Healer can't help anymore—does that mean he's getting worse?

A/N: Okay, everyone, here is your chance! And if you didn't want a chance, I'll just beg you to do it anyway!

I have a direction I'd like to take this story in, but it is extremely adaptable. I can basically do anything that you guys want me to! It will become necessary to relocate Teddy at some point, but I have many different thoughts about where I might take him. They are varied. I have considered a quieter part of England or Wales, I have considered a few areas in Canada, the Northwestern or Southeastern United States, Spain . . .

So what I'm saying is, I want your opinion. Tell me where you'd like to see him go, because I can't make up my mind. And tell me if there is anything else in particular that you'd really like to see in the story. I will be devoting most of my time to solving the problem of Teddy's illness, and to Harry's relationship issues, and even a little bit to Luna's field research as a naturalist. If there is anything else you're interested in seeing in these characters' lives, let me know. I am here to oblige!

Oh, and, if it's not too much trouble, of course, I'd love to have some constructive criticism on this chapter . . .