Sunshine Kid

The first thing that Harry did was make sure that Teddy had more than enough room. 

In the summer after the war, in between funerals and Wizengamot trials, Harry had bought a country house.

A faint brown house, with two floors, four bedrooms, a dining hall and a drawing room had seemed amazing, but what had made Harry agree to the property instantaneously was the land that came with it. 

The front of the house had its modest lawn, but its back boasted an opening into a wonderful, big, yellow and green field. Harry remembers thinking that it looked like it was out of a picture book, the kinds he had seen in kindergarten only fleetingly, and the first sight of it had reminded him of the feel of glossy paper under his childish hands. 

Eighteen and exhausted, he hadn’t known exactly how full-time his role with Teddy would become but he’d thought of a burst of turquoise running around in the swirl of brightness in front of him, and he had spun around and bought the house. 

Since then, that image had leaped out of his imagination and manifested into a delightful reality. 

Teddy had loved the field. Harry got used to chasing him around in it as soon as he learnt to walk. It became a bit more difficult once Teddy, at five years old, figured out he could simply change his hair to yellow to make it impossible to be found; the first time he did, it took Harry over twenty minutes but he improved quickly. 

Teddy’s room is humongous - Harry had made sure it would be. 

The bedroom, which had started out as a fairly large nursery, still retains its baby blue walls, but the crib has been replaced by a large bed. The bookcase in the corner of the room has lengthened and multiplied over the years, and the titles are, Harry notes a bit wistfully, no longer silly and fantastical. The only thing like that in the room peeks out from a chest in the corner in the form of a stuffed dragon whose hanging tail is still swinging. 

The advertisements really hadn’t lied - the charm never did wear off of it. 

Harry finds it a bit pathetic of himself to be standing in Teddy’s room, observing everything and getting so nostalgic in the middle of the afternoon, but he just misses him so much despite Teddy having been home for Easter in April. He reminds himself he’ll see him soon - June is approaching her end and Teddy will be back. 

He guides himself to think of Teddy’s letter from last week.

Now in his second year, he had tried out for the Quidditch team and, to everyone’s delight, made the team. The letter talked about Hufflepuff’s most recent match against Ravenclaw, the result having been in the favour of the former. Harry hopes some of the broom polish and the box of sugary doughnuts filled with raspberry jam will have made Teddy happy. He knows they will, because Teddy is like that; delightful at receiving gifts and always thankful, but the small possibility of him not liking it still feels like a great, big disappointing failure to Harry. 

It’s nearing two when Harry apparates back to his store and gives Loic - the store assistant, a sheepish smile at arriving back later than he had told him he would. Harry walks to the back, and makes his way to the workshop and settles down on a stool. He surveys the index of items in front of him, deciding which to begin with. The most logical thing to do would be to be to start with whatever has the nearest pick-up date, but Harry, like always, eventually chooses what will require the least amount of effort. He begins to work on a seemingly ancient pair of earrings.

Potter Repairs is a quaint shop in Diagon Alley, and he had opened it a year and a half after leaving Hogwarts. When he bothers to remember all the other options that he had been offered upon the completion of eighth year, he finds it oddly amusing that this is what he has chosen to do but it takes almost no thinking for Harry to ascertain that he wouldn’t choose anything else if asked to make that decision again. 

Mainly because everything else had simply not been worth it. 

The most probable options from a long list of bright jobs, including a lot of weird witch weekly features (which, he will admit abashedly, he still sometimes gets offers for), had been heading into the Auror department or joining the Chudley Cannons but those came with very rational problems. 

Being an Auror, as Kingsley had kindly warned him when Harry shared a possibility of heading into the DMLE, came with a huge amount of risk, a number of unexpected shifts and too many surprising attacks and defences. Harry knew immediately that going on to become an Auror would be stupid when an echo of his own words sounded in his ears. 

“Parents shouldn’t leave their kids unless they have to.”

Harry knew he would have been no better putting Teddy’s wellbeing at stake and going into a dangerous job. Quidditch, though it bore considerably fewer risks, would leave no time for Teddy at all, so it was ruled out soon after too. 

It was Professor McGongagall that had planted the idea in his - in a way, at least. Her stern but soft voice, the professional expression of hers as it moved to say, ‘Think of what you are good at, Potter.’ 

What had Harry had so much exposure to in the war - and even before? Magical objects - the answer, it had felt like to him, had been under his nose all along. He was good at detecting what was wrong with them, good at picking up the curses and getting rid of them, and he was sure if he spent some time properly learning more about reparations, he would be able to charge people for his work. So a year and half’s worth of pouring over texts, both the modern and ancient, and consulting repair shops around Europe, Harry opened his store. Him being the saviour helped the business like he knew it would and he didn’t find it in himself to complain, not when it was helping taking care of Teddy easier. 

–

A warm breeze carries the noise of children reuniting with their families, as the train whistles out on the platform. 

It all smells so familiar to Harry by now, like the scents in the cafe he grabs coffee from in the afternoon, or the way his bathroom smells after he’s taken a shower, or the awful stench of Quidditch gear that Teddy refuses to put away. 

He’s discovered how many Platform 9 and ¾ trips families actually have to make during the year. One for seeing the kids off at the end of summer, and the other for welcoming them the year after, but there’s two trips per each break they get. And Harry thinks it’s so delightful! He looks forward to dropping Teddy off and collecting him - every single time, almost always bursting with excitement. Even now, as he waits to spot the familiar turquoise, he’s clutching his cap in his hands tightly, grinning down at all the students walking by.

A weight collides into his back roughly, forcing an ‘oomph’ out of him, but he smiles brightly.

‘Hullo!’ Harry greets, turning around to wrap his arm around Teddy, whose head almost reaches his chest now. Teddy wraps his own arm around Harry’s torso in return, and for a moment it is only the both of them on the platform. 

‘Missed you,’ Teddy grins, swinging forward his owl’s - Tether - cage for Harry to hold. Harry does, and grabs the trolley pushing his trunk too while Teddy clings to broomstick.

‘I missed you,’ Harry says, walking the both of them back to the floo point to head home.

–

‘-And really, Macomber doesn’t even know what he’s doing about half the time, so I have to help him,’ Teddy explains. He shoves the spoonful of cereal he’s been holding into his mouth, and thin white beads trickle down his jaw as he continues to talk. ‘Iffs juff fair thaf I geff sumfing in refurn.’

Harry grimaces a little at him, to which Teddy rolls his eyes and swallows finally. ‘You’ve got milk—’ Harry points to his own mouth, and Teddy wipes his face with the back of his hand.

‘I’m only saying, I don’t think it’s as big of a deal as you think it is.’

‘Teddy, you’re trying to help a friend learn some flying tricks and having him do your homework for you, that’s not great.’

‘Well, not now, it’s summer.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Not all my homework anyway, just some things I don’t want to do.’

‘I’m not sure that helps, Teddy.’

‘It’s fine, Harry,’ Teddy huffs, pushing the now empty bowl away from him. ‘We should go flying today.’

‘No,’ Harry answers, finally returning to his newspaper. ‘We’re visiting your grandmother today.’

‘I know that,’ Teddy says, pronouncing the obviousness of it all, and he stands up. ‘I meant after - when we come back.’

Harry lowers his newspaper again. ‘You’re not going to stay the night there?’

For a moment, Teddy looks indecisive but then he slowly shakes his head. ‘Can I not - this time? I want to sleep here.’

There’s suddenly somewhat of a lump in his throat, and the worry that he’s gotten so used to feeling, is spiralling around him again, hooking itself onto the base of his spine and twirling, twirling, twirling around to settle in his stomach. But Harry needs to think about it - if he reacts in front of Teddy, he might think he’s done something wrong. 

‘Of course,’ Harry forces out, and tries to manage a natural smile. Teddy grins before announcing that he’s going up to his room, and then he’s out. Harry brings his forehead down against his hand, finger and thumb squeezing against his temple as he tries to ease himself. 

In the next hour, Harry cleans up the mess from breakfast, gets out the cake from the fridge that he bought the day before, shouts for Teddy to get ready four times - and then a fifth, because Teddy had begun making his way down the stairs in his pyjamas. 

‘She’s my mum’s mum, I’m sure I can go see her in my pyjamas,’ Teddy huffs, grabbing a fistful of the floo powder as he continues to scowl down at his robes. ‘Honestly, Harry, no one actually wears these things anymore.’

‘It’s disrespectful to go to anyone’s house in pyjamas,’ Harry tells him, putting the bag of powder away. The way Teddy’s mouth is curving up, he knows immediately that a snarky response is about to be thrown his way so he nudges him toward the fireplace. 

Teddy floos away first, and Harry takes a moment to collect himself, the cake box against his side. He inhales deeply, and walks into the fireplace, calling out for Andromeda’s house. 

When he opens his eyes, he sees cream wallpaper with the lining of small pink tulips, two leaves sticking out from each stem, and he smiles at Andromeda who is sitting on one of the sofas listening attentively to Teddy making a confident show of his robes. 

‘Harry was saying I could just show up in my pyjamas, but I insisted on wearing these - no way I could visit my grandmother in the clothes I slept in.’

–

One of the first things Harry had done after the battle, was apparate to Andromeda’s house. 

He had been expecting it to be easy. By then, he had already walked to his death once, fought off the Dark Lord and moved countless dead bodies. But looking at Andromeda then, suddenly so aware of the cuts all over him, the dried blood and mud sticking to him, the aches in his muscles, the words wouldn’t come out. 

It was alright, however, because as soon as she saw Harry in her house - Harry instead of her daughter, instead of her son in law - she understood and fell against the wall in a loud cry. From upstairs, the wails of an infant rivalled the sounds of her mourning. 

Harry visited her and Teddy a lot that summer, often multiple times a week, arms full of silly toys and onesies, and to help clean up and put Teddy to bed and give him his baths and play with him. When he decided to return to Hogwarts to get his NEWTs, Andromeda was encouraging. He still visited; during the fall break, and some of the weekends where he would apparate out of Hogsmeade. 

But at New Years, Andromeda had sat him down, her face the same it had been that day after the battle, and with a hand on his shoulder admitted that she wouldn’t be able to take care of Teddy. And Harry had been compliant at once. He was Teddy’s godfather, after all, and this was exactly what he wished Sirius would have been able to do for him. So, Harry nodded, and said, of course, of course, he’s my godson, of course, and promised that at the end of his eight year, he would take over - he’d be glad to.

Grief was an enormous thing. It was like being born again into the same present only without the knowledge of existing; the how and why of it all suddenly absent. Harry knew this and he understood, with enormous depth, why she was asking this of him. 

Andromeda who had lost so much at once: a husband, a daughter, and a son-in-law. And it had been Andromeda’s second time losing a family - and Harry knows from Sirius how nonsensical that feels, how indescribable the discomfort that creeps is. 

A year after the war, on the 8th of June, Harry stood in the small cobble-stone path leading to the front door of the house he had bought, a bag on his shoulder and a small bundle in his arms. The sun had been shining brightly that day, and Teddy continued to shift in his arms, constantly disturbed by all the golden rays that kept catching him. 

—

The blue of the sky has long since melted into a muted shade of pink, deep purple swirling all around and an absence of a usual orange glare. A warm hush is holding over, the air still a little thick even as the leaves of trees dwindle ever so often. The end of the evening is approaching.

Teddy is sitting on a big brown armchair that is plump with cushions of many shapes and sizes. Even at thirteen - with the impressive height he has inherited from his father - he is still able to pull his legs up and tuck them, his shoulders disappearing into the soft background of the chair. He is lazily flicking through a magazine that he has picked up from Andromeda’s coffee table and is asking incredulous questions about the discoveries he keeps making between the pages.

‘And - what is this?’ Teddy shrieks. Harry winces a little. Andromeda peers over the armrest, amusingly observing the pages held out to her. It is one of those purchasing catalogues, where products do not come with particularly long descriptions. The image in question is of a young witch on a broomstick, in bright purple robes, looking incredibly happy and holding up her thumb. Big, bubbly lettering that is floating around the image reads, ‘No time of the month is unfit for flying!’

‘Special robes,’ Andromeda answers as she picks up her teacup.

‘Don’t look that special to me,’ Teddy huffs, rolling his eyes and observing the picture again.

‘They’re spelled for when a person is menstruating,’ Andromeda explains further. She takes a sip of her tea, Teddy’s hair flickers to a deep brown, the way it always does when he’s feeling shy or embarrassed. 

Harry reckons that as a thirteen year old, Teddy’s desperate to learn how to control that.

An hour later, they’re all gathered in front of the fireplace, and Teddy rushes back up to the room in the house that is still his, claiming to want to grab something. 

Andromeda is holding onto Harry’s arm as he thanks her for a wonderful day and then they’re sharing expressions of pride and delight over Teddy.

‘The teenage snark is there, but it’s almost - endearing actually,’ Harry tells her. There is a long list in his head of things Teddy had said, albeit in contempt or frustration or sadness and even excitement, that are confoundingly hilarious and incredibly imaginative.

‘I dare say it may only be the tip of the iceberg, Harry,’ Andromeda warns him, her eyes wistful and Harry knows she is drifting back to her own daughter. She pats his cheek softly. ‘When it comes, don’t let all the door slamming intimidate you.’

‘I won’t,’ Harry laughs, offering to guide her back to a chair. She is growing weary and he can tell - he has learned to tell. She accepts.

‘Heading home, the both of you?’ Andromeda asks, her hands smoothing out the front of her robes. It is the third time she has asked this but Harry nods bashfully again.

It is times like these that he feels gratitude but more significantly, immense relief flooding his chest that, all those years ago, Andromeda had asked him to step in and assume full care of Teddy. He doesn’t doubt, even for a moment, that she would have known her own future. Maybe those early glimpses of grief from when she was a young woman, of having lost her family, informed her enough to know what bereavement may actually feel like when losing loved ones that she held no grudges against. In any case, Harry thinks, he always manages to find a new level of respect for her for having put Teddy first even in that state. It can’t have been easy, giving forward your only family left.

He hopes he’s doing a good job of keeping her connected to Teddy. 

‘I’m taking this,’ Teddy announces his return, and he’s waving a couple of old books. ‘Mum’s I think, I’ve been wanting these for a while. One of them might be dads.’

‘Of course,’ Andromeda smiles, which widens impossibly as Teddy leans down to press a kiss on each of her cheeks, swinging his arms around her neck. ‘Come to visit again soon, my darling, or at least floo call more often.’

‘I will!’ Teddy promises, pulling away. Harry waits respectfully by the fireplace, as Teddy floos away first.

‘I’ll make sure he floo-calls frequently,’ Harry assures her. ‘Please tell me if you need anything.’

Andromeda’s smile, as Harry watched it disappear through the warm, green flames, is small and nostalgic, only a ghost of the smiles she once used to have plastered to her face all the time.

–

Harry arrives home in the evening after a long day of work.

His shop is always busier in the summer and there are always numerous orders for repairs and investigations of items that look like they haven’t seen the light of day for years. A spillover effect of spring cleaning, Harry chalks it down to.

He finds Teddy in the kitchen eating spaghetti out of the pot. He swings his legs off of the table as Harry walks in and grins. 

‘Hullo,’ Harry greets, peering into the pot to see if there’s enough left for him to eat too. ‘Have a nice day?’

Teddy shrugs, slumping further into the chair. ‘Was alright,’ He answers. ‘Henry called about everyone meeting to play quidditch tomorrow. Can I go?’

‘Yeah,’ Harry says. He places his hands flat against the counter and pauses in his search for ingredients for a quick meal. He tries to recount all the questions he usually asks when Teddy asks to go out with his friends. ‘Where will you be going? What time will you leave - and get back?’

‘We thought four was alright. We’ll probably be a few hours, so - maybe till seven?’

‘Sounds alright,’ Harry tells him. ‘Where will you be going? I need the parents' names.’

During Teddy’s first break back from Hogwarts, when he had asked Harry if he and his friends could go out, Harry had found himself asking for their parent’s phone numbers and house addresses instead of their names and floos. 

It made for a funny story after, with Hermione remarking that she remembered her parents' bewildered and unsure faces at being told to shout ‘The Burrow’ into the fireplace instead of being given a name and a number on a piece of paper. 

Harry had smiled through it all but the source of the question had been so unexpected - he truly didn’t think anything of Aunt Petunia’s still took up space in his head, but when asking Teddy, his question was just an echo of her shrill voice inquiring the same of Dudley when they had all been much younger. 

‘I was thinking everyone could come here,’ Teddy informs him. Harry turns away from the stove, where he has beans boiling in a pot, and sees Teddy straightening up after having grabbed a drink from the fridge. ‘I like playing in our field.’

Harry winces a little as he takes out a plate. ‘I don’t know, Teddy, I’ve got work tomorrow - don’t think I’ll be able to be here by four.’

‘It’s fine, we’ll be okay till you arrive.’

Harry thinks he wouldn’t be too comfortable sending Teddy to a house of kids with no adult there awaiting his arrival. ‘I don’t think that’s…appropriate.’

Teddy groans. ‘Please, Harry.’

Harry gives in. He’s never been able to say no to Teddy for too long, and after dinner he sends a letter to Loic informing him that he wouldn’t be working the whole day tomorrow and to make any necessary changes in the schedule. 

When Teddy’s friends all jump out of the floo, one after the other, tackling each other with loud laughs and rough hugs, Harry wonders how he almost said no to being privy to Teddy’s friendships. He’s loved seeing these boys grow closer for three years now. 

‘Alright you lot?’ Harry asks and he receives excited nods and handshakes. It’s a group of about five boys. One of them is named James, and Harry’s had a softer spot for him ever since he met him. Never mind that James is the quietest of them all - nothing like his older namesake would have been at that age, Harry’s sure. He points his chin in the direction of a blond boy. ‘Good idea, this, Henry. It’s perfect for flying. Thank God, we’re getting more sun this time ‘round, it seems.’

Henry matches his delight. ‘I know! My mum told me it’d be good out today.’

Henry’s mother is a stout, bubbly witch who works in the weather department. Harry’s familiar with her voice, even outside having greeted her on the platform and the kids meeting, but also because it's on the radio most mornings. 

‘Smart woman,’ Harry tells him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. He thinks he’s picked it up from Mr Weasley. He remembers their early meetings more when greeting anyone Teddy goes to school with, as a guide rather than just for nostalgic purposes though he thinks the lines have sort of blurred. ‘Off you are then. I’ll have something ready for you when you come back in. Any requests?’

Harry knows their answers by now. Butterbeer. Crisps. Bacon sandwiches. 

‘Butterbeer, please, Harry!’

‘Crisps, Mr Potter!’

‘Bacon sandwiches, please, Mr Potter!’

The boys all run out to the kitchen, where they leave through the back door. Harry enjoys making the food, he enjoys seeing the brooms flying in the field, he delights at the laughter he hears, and grins at some of the more inappropriate jokes he catches. When he’s almost done, however, plates and goblets and food collected on the counter beside the fridge, he thinks he’s almost about to ask someone to grab the tray for him. 

Harry grabs the tray himself, and sets everything on it. Then he shouts out for Teddy and his friends to return, and have something to eat. 

—

‘Teddy’s growing the same way Bill did,’ Molly sighs fondly as she walks up to Harry’s side. He’s been watching everyone, from his chair, talk and laugh in the living room where they’re all relaxing after Sunday dinner. Teddy is playing a game of wizard’s chess with Ron who is struggling to maintain his hold on a desperate-to-intervene Rose. Hermione and Ginny are talking by the fireplace, Percy is in conversation with Arthur, and Bill and Fleur are trying to placate a Victoire who is very annoyed at something. 

George and Charlie are absent has gone to try his luck with procuring rare potions ingredients in Romania and Charlie’s offered to help.

‘I’ve bought too many beds these past few years, I think,’ Harry muses softly. ‘He keeps outgrowing every one.’

Molly tuts disapprovingly. ‘A simple engorgio does the trick - did it for Bill, for all my kids really.’

Harry knows that. It’s what he’d done to his own bed after figuring out he needed more space to sleep when his nightmares had him kicking about it in the night. To do the same for Teddy is harder. Anything less than new feels wrong.

When it’s finally time to leave, Harry’s cradling Rose in his arms and making faces at her. They’re silly, but they’re not as silly as the ones he used to make at Teddy. Rose laughs at him nonetheless, hands flying about to try and grab at his face.

‘You should come ‘round more often,’ Hermione smiles as Ron helps her with her coat. He tucks out her hair from the back and she places a small kiss on his cheek. 

‘We’ll try,’ Harry says, offering Rose back to Ron. ‘The shop’s been really busy, and Teddy’s wanting to be with his friends more often now. Don’t think I’m cool enough anymore to be honest.’

From beside him Teddy groans loudly, pushing into his side with his head which makes them laugh. Harry hits his back jokingly, but lets his arm linger around him.

‘You’re always cool enough for your own friends, Harry,’ Hermione says earnestly. Ron nods assuringly.

‘You’ve got three of those now,’ Ron grins, holding up Rose who laughs loudly as if in complete understanding of her father’s humour.

‘Alright, mate,’ Harry laughs, pulling Ron into a hug.

When he and Teddy finally stumble back into their home, he’s very tired. 

Teddy promises to go to bed after an hour of television - the both of them know it will be longer than an hour. 

Harry puts on the kettle just as the noise of voices from whatever Teddy’s chosen to watch travel to the kitchen. He heaves a sigh, excited a little at the cup of tea he’ll have in his hands soon, if nothing else.

It’s never been Ron’s fault and Harry can never remember Ron having been different anyway, but he can track down the moment he’s thought differently about their friendship.

A small question, innocent and curious. Maybe Ron hadn’t even meant it the way Harry took it, but Harry’s not too sure. He only remembers a heavy block settling in his stomach the day when Ron had asked him, ‘Do you think you’ll have any of your own?’

There were a couple of hours to sunset, the sky a glorious orange. Hermione cradled a small bundle, softly grabbing at Teddy’s unsure hands to help him interact with the baby in his own way. 

‘Teddy is - I think of him as my own,’ Harry had said.

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Ron had defended. ‘Only - this feels different, mate.’

‘I don’t know,’ Harry had shrugged it off. 

Ron had probably forgotten about it, but Harry still couldn’t let it go. He thinks he can see the question, still, in Ron’s eyes sometimes. When Harry fusses over Teddy’s scarf and hat in the winter, or when they meet for late lunch in Diagon Alley and Harry’s asking Teddy to make sure they’ve covered his list. He thinks Ron’s look is burning through him when Harry talks to Teddy about Remus and Tonks.

Harry doesn’t struggle with the idea of Teddy being his own. Teddy is Remus and Tonks’ son - through and through - and Harry’s never kept him from thinking so. Teddy has never called him dad, not even accidentally. Still, his feelings towards Teddy are so overwhelmingly parental that he wouldn’t think twice of Teddy being his son either. 

Teddy is Remus and Tonks’ son, but whenever it matters, he’s Harry’s too. A godson counts just as much as a son and Harry tries to imagine how Ron would have reacted if he had just spat that out at him.

When he thinks of Ron’s question, late at night or on a lonely evening, he tries making sense of his own relationship with Sirius, tries to put himself in his shoes. It usually ends with him crying. He feels silly after - he’s thirty crying over his godfather but Sirius’ ache never really left. Neither did Remus’. At some point, theirs’ had taken over his parents’ too because his parents had never got to hug him properly, but Remus and Sirius had. It’s harder to miss an embrace you can’t remember.

The living room is illuminated by the television and the changing scenes have the lights flickering and changing colours. Teddy is sitting on the floor at the foot of the couch, hand digging into a bowl of crisps, and his shirt discarded in a corner. Harry smiles as he places another cooling charm in the room. 

‘What are we watching?’ He asks, setting down his mug. 

‘Er-’ Teddy scrambles for the DVD case. ‘Mean girls?’

‘Alright,’ Harry muses. Silently, he wonders if a thirteen year old should watch this movie. He tries to recall what had happened in it from the time Hermione had dragged all of them to watch it years ago. All he can remember is a lot of fuss around being a lesbian and breasts predicting rain.

He manages to shrug some of the worry off when the hot tea calms his throat. Maybe Teddy will be able to ask any questions he has because of the film. They watch it laughing occasionally, the crunching of the crisps and the sipping of tea accompanying the noise of the movie. Teddy falls asleep towards the end, his head falling back to hit Harry’s legs which only manages to stir him slightly and he falls stiffly to the floor. 

Harry carries him back up to his room. He knows he doesn’t have long at all till Teddy grows out of this or till he will become unable to carry him. If the way Teddy’s legs dangle out of his arms and hit his thighs are any indication, it’s sooner than later. 

He sets Teddy onto his bed, and tucks him in. Pushing back the blue hair, which really is calling for a haircut, he places a kiss to his forehead and bids him good night. He thinks he knows where he picked that up from - he’s known for a while. But that memory is his - only his. Private, and tucked away only to be recalled for his leisure and comfort. It’s an ode to his love for Teddy that he can use it as inspiration to express his affection for him at all because he’s horribly selfish with these memories.

Harry smiles sadly in his own presence as he falls asleep.

—

The rest of the summer passes similarly.

Teddy spends time with his friends, they visit Andromeda and even have her spend the night at theirs, Sunday dinners remain as usual as ever, and whenever they can, Harry’s friends come to visit and Teddy gets doted on much to his teenage grief.

As July begins to approach her end, the Hogwarts Owl arrives bearing the list of books and supplies needed for the school year. Harry and Teddy mark out a day in the calendar to complete their shopping.

‘I’m sorry it’s a bit dull but I only have a couple of things for people to pick up today and then we can get started, alright?’ Harry asks a very bored looking Teddy who is flicking through a Quidditch magazine, legs hung over the arm of the only comfortable chair in his office. 

‘Can I walk around till then?’ Teddy asks.

‘I’m afraid not, Teddy.’

‘Harry, I’m thirteen, it’s not fair!’

Harry winces. Maybe thirteen is old enough to walk around by himself but Diagon Alley is very busy and it’s easy to get lost - and how will Harry find him then? Besides, if Harry is usually humble, the quality doesn’t extend to Teddy who is probably someone people will want to gawk at or stop and stare at; the son of two war heroes; his godson is no ordinary wizard.

‘Sorry Teddy, you’re going to have to wait for me,’ Harry apologises and slides a paper bag on the desk towards him. ‘I’ve got some marbles saved up for you.’

‘Fine,’ Teddy grumbles, sinking further into the chair, face away from the marbles. Harry knows this mood will last till they’re out shopping so he lets him be and makes his way to the front to wait for the customers to arrive for their pickups.

It takes just over an hour for Harry to become free, and then the sign at the front of his shop morphs from spelling out ‘open’ to ‘closed’ and he and Teddy are walking down the street.

‘Robes first, I think,’ Harry suggests and fortunately Teddy agrees and they head to Madam Malkin’s. 

‘Hogwarts, third year,’ Harry announces proudly to her once the greetings are out of the way and she is ushering for Teddy to stand on the little podium to be measured. ‘Hufflepuff!’

‘You remind me every year, Mr Potter,’ Madame Malkin huffs, inspecting the measuring tape that is flying around Teddy who she looks up slightly accusingly. ‘And you have been growing every year!’

‘It’s been known to happen,’ Teddy grins and luckily he only earns a bemused look from Madam Malkin.

‘I think I should include a pair of shirt and trousers just a little over his size,’ She suggests turning back around to face Harry. ‘It may save you another trip during December.’

Harry nods. ‘I think that’s a good idea, it’ll do!’

Teddy’s grin turns to a mock frown. ‘It’s almost like you aren’t happy to see us walk into your store, Madame Malkin.’

She rubs her temple with her thumb and her index as she sighs, muttering something under her breath. 

Harry can only laugh. ‘Teddy, I think I’ll go and grab you a new cauldron while you’re here,’ He says. ‘Anything else on the list you want me to pick up?’

Teddy takes out the now crumpled parchment from his pocket and skims over it quickly. ‘No, just the books but don’t go to Flourish and Blotts without me.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ Harry assures him. ‘I think I’ll grab owl treats too, then. See you in about twenty minutes.’

Diagon Alley is fairly busy for a Wednesday afternoon but with the start of school approaching, the rush makes sense. Harry feels slightly guilty when, like every time he’s in a store, he’s encouraged to step forward in the line ahead of some of the people already waiting. He lets the dazzled look on the other customers’ faces act as consolation; maybe they don’t mind that much. He buys a stone cauldron and then rushes to buy owl treats, wary of how long he’s spent in the store with people asking for a signature and a photograph. When he finally returns to Madame Malkin’s, Teddy is sitting in a chair against the counter, a bag at his side and is grinning up at the owner saying something that looks to be sending her closer and closer to combustion.

‘All done?’ Harry announces his return and digs into his pocket for the money.

‘This one is certainly mouthy,’ Madame Malkin remarks, sliding forward a bill, one sharp purple nail digging into the parchment. She points her wand at the list of items confirming, once more, that there’s nothing else they would like.

‘We’re glad for it,’ Harry returns, winking at Teddy discreetly who brightens.

‘All like his mother,’ She mutters, collecting the galleons Harry puts on the counter. She turns her head back to Teddy, pink lorgnettes turning to him. 

‘Well, I  am her son,’ Teddy intones, jumping to his feet. ‘We’ll see you same time next year, Madame Malkin.’

Harry thinks she doesn’t look too excited at the prospect of their annual return.

On their walk to Flourish and Blotts, they stop to get milkshakes to combat the glare of the sun. Seated in a window booth, the magic of the cooling charm is a very welcome relief. 

‘Do you think mum rattled up Madam Malkin just the way I do?’ Teddy asks before taking a loud slurp of his milkshake. The huge mass of whipped cream in his glass descends dramatically, the pale pink liquid disappearing under the white. 

‘Yeah,’ Harry breathes out. His milkshake is chocolate, and it seems to be sticking all over the inside of his mouth. ‘I think - exactly like you.’

‘Wicked,’ Teddy grins. Then, pauses. ‘And dad?’

Harry laughs and the sound hurts him a little. ‘Not at all, probably just very shy around her,’ He tells him. ‘Maybe he would’ve said some of the things you say, rather snarky when he wanted to be. But I think Madame Malkin probably found him too endearing. He was polite enough.’

Teddy scrunches his nose. ‘So, old ladies liked him?’

‘He was Professor McGonagall’s favourite, wasn’t he?’

They spend almost two hours in the bookstore, even though it takes about fifteen minutes to collect all the books on Teddy’s third year syllabus. 

Teddy wanders off in the mystery section but Harry knows that when it’s time to leave, he’ll find him around the classics shelves. Harry, himself, spends some time looking at cookbooks, and then at the parenting books for good measure. There’s always something new to be learned.

Teddy smiles widely as he joins him at the checkout, arms full, and dumps the books all down with a thud on the counter. 

They meet Ron, Hermione, Rose and Luna in a new restaurant that’s opened up. It’s all beautiful, dangling foliage accompanied by the soft music of a piano in the corner. Small, yellow orbs float high in the room and give it its light. 

‘This is quite nice,’ Harry observes as they all sit down to order.

‘Quite,’ Luna agrees, eyes turning to Teddy. ‘It compliments your energy.’

‘The - plants?’ Teddy asks, looking around. ‘I don’t know, they remind me of Professor Longbottom.’ 

‘We haven’t seen Neville in ages,’ Ron cries as he tries fixing Rose’s hair. ‘We need to ask him to come out with us soon.’

‘It’s been too long,’ Harry agrees.

‘Make a night out of it?’ Ron suggests.

‘Yeah, Dean and Seamus too if we can track them down.’

‘Those fancy Gringotts blokes don’t hang around people like us,’ Ron flashes him a grin. 

‘I’ll owl them tonight,’ Harry laughs.

Once they’ve ordered, Luna stands up abruptly. ‘I’ve forgotten to pick up my hairpins,’ She worries. ‘Oh- I need to go get them. I’ll be back very soon.’

‘I’ll come with!’ Teddy rushes, pushing back his chair loudly and he’s running after her before Harry can even tell him to be careful.

‘I wonder if he’s got a little schoolboy crush on Luna,’ Hermione muses, eyes twinkling with amusement, once they have disappeared from their sight.

‘No,’ Harry denies with a laugh. He would have noticed, and really he’s picked up on nothing of the sort. ‘He talks more to Madame Malkin.’

Ron scowls at the idea just as Rose leaps forward for Harry who collects her off the table happily. ‘God, Ron, what’ve you done to her hair?’ He laughs, trying to undo the lopsided ponytail on Rose’s head.

‘Wha’d’you mean?’ Ron cries. ‘That looked fantastic, it did, ‘Mione, tell him!’

Rose looks happier though, with her hair collected neatly away from her face now, without any of the strands that Ron had left out, and she beams up at her parents and babbles - something. Hermione is left helpless in the face of this childish mirth, and looks up apologetically at her husband.

‘Well, you can’t be good at everything,’ Ron sighs dramatically.

Teddy and Luna return just minutes after their food is served, and the first few minutes of the meal are spent with her talking about how all of them must also buy the pins because they’re charmed to keep the nargles away from one’s head.

‘It’s amazing, really,’ She says, holding out a glittery unicorn horn shaped pin in front of Harry. ‘I never lose my focus when I’m wearing these and I can concentrate so much better. No brain fog at all.’

That sounds enviable to Harry, and for a moment he considers buying them too - or at least looking into them at the very least.

—

On the morning of the thirty-first of July, Harry bakes a cake. 

He covers it in pink icing, sweet and bright, and then draws two stick figures on it with green icing; a tall one with round glasses, and a significantly shorter one with messy hair..

The remnants of it are still there on his fingers when he’s done, and he takes immense delight in licking them off. The morning sun is refreshing, the taste of sugar in his mouth serene, Teddy’s asleep in his bed in his big room, and everything is calm. There is no one in the house that will shout at him, and there is no one outside he needs to run from.

Still, Harry feels tired, and he settles into the living room with a cup of tea and pulls out one of the cookbooks he bought earlier in the week. Perhaps, he can find something new to send off with Teddy on the train tomorrow.

He’s almost flipped through half off the hook when there’s loads of rumbling upstairs and then the sound of haste footsteps rushing down the stairs.

‘Happy birthday, Harry!’ Teddy cries, lunging at him on the sofa which leans back slightly at the force. 

‘Thank you,’ Harry laughs as Teddy’s arms wrap around him and he rushes to hold him back. ‘You woke up early for me!’

‘We make sacrifices for people we love,’ Teddy sighs into him which makes Harry laugh harder.

‘Best present ever,’ He winks and hugs Teddy a little tighter. He knows he’s not ready for him to leave soon.

‘I have a proper present for you,’ Teddy grumbles and then he’s pulling back to stand up to his full height. 

‘Oh?’ Harry raises an eyebrow at him. ‘Well, at any rate, you ought to have breakfast first. There’s eggs and sausages under a stasis on the table. Cake’s on the counter.’

Teddy agrees at once and he heads into the kitchen. Seconds later, Harry hears his shout, ‘Harry, I’m taller than this and you know it!’

Harry smiles into his cup of tea.

Come evening, the house has gathered almost everyone Harry cares about.

All the Weasleys are there, including George - but not Charlie who has excused himself due to a dragon birth but has promised to name the first egg that hatches after him - and Dean and Seamus in their fancy robes. Neville’s here even though his day tomorrow is understandably busy. Ginny and Luna are there. Teddy’s at the kitchen table picking out the candles he wants to put on the new cake that has been brought in by Molly who is in conversation with Andromeda. 

Harry was eleven when he had been thrust into the spotlight of the wizarding world, and he’s remained under that attention, scrutiny and admiration ever since but like every year, this display of love on his birthday unnerves him. He’s unsure of what to do with all of it. Perhaps kids learn how to deal with appreciation, a human instinct innate in all infants that helps them adapt to an environment of care. Harry thinks he had outgrown that feature when love and care did catch up to him. Even Sirius and Remus had been on the receiving end of his wariness and caution at first, and ever after he thinks he’s somehow missed out on all the important things their love was offering.

He recalls it all too clear, startling clarity in fact, of being seated in between the both of them on a fancy couch in Grimmauld Place. The black of the night, the warmth of the fire, Sirius’ skin a normal colour again and Remus’ eyes so watchful.

‘In difficult times, you should never lose sight of your own worth and importance,’ Sirius had been saying, taking Harry’s hand in his. 

They had seemed like flowery words to Harry, those things adults say to you believing themselves to be so much more knowing, and he hadn’t really been paying much attention to what Sirius had been trying to say. Only that he was trying to appreciate the both of them being in the room with him - just him, no one else.

‘And you mean a great deal,’ Remus had joined in, the palms of his hand resting on both of Harry’s shoulders. ‘Even if you ever feel that no one else can see that, you should know it within yourself.’

Now, Harry can understand what they had been trying to tell him - pieces of wisdom it takes a life to learn. It had taken them dying, and for new types of love to find him and leave him for him to begin to ponder the meaning of their words, but at least he had begun to understand their gravity.

He’s thirty-one today, but whenever he thinks of that house in London, he is a sixteen year old boy again, ignorant of the little time he has with the only family he has ever known.

The singing brings him back to his living room, and everyone else looks so cheerful he feels guilty of having been so lost in thought. Teddy places the cake in front of him, thirty-one candles glowing proudly but they don’t compare the glow on his face at all.

‘Blow them out with me,’ Harry says, the way he’s been saying every year for thirteen years now, and pulls Teddy to his side. Thirty-one lights go out and cheers erupt in their living room.

Harry’s happy with all the presents he has gotten and near midnight an owl even drops off a photo of Charlie holding a tiny dragon captioned, ‘Meet Harry the second! Happy Birthday - to the both of you.’ He’s delighted that the plant Neville’s given him requires very little attention to be kept alive and will look beautiful on the table in the kitchen. The watch Dean and Seamus have got him is very bright and ostentatious and if anything, it’s valuable to own. Plus, he’s been needing new mittens for when the weather inevitably begins to get colder, and the ones Molly has given him will do perfectly.

Teddy has bought him a broomstick sleeve that is multi-coloured but ensures to help make sitting down on the broom more comfortable which is something Harry had complained of sometime during the Easter break. 

‘I bought it on Wednesday during lunch,’ Teddy tells him proudly. ‘Luna and I staged the whole thing, she had the pins in her pocket the whole time, I bet you never noticed.’

‘I hadn’t,’ Harry admits, holding the card that had been stuck to the sleeve with Teddy’s messy handwriting on it. ‘You’ll look even less cooler with this but I love you all the same, Harry.’

The flutters of pride and gratitude are overwhelming and he can see so much of Tonks and Remus in Teddy that it hurts. He hopes this is okay - that it is healthy for a thirteen year old boy to be so expressive with his love and Harry hasn’t done anything wrong, or passed on any of his own problems. The card’s writing is overwhelmingly adorable, and Harry tucks it away in his pocket from where he’ll know he’ll replace it on a shelf in his room.

Four weeks later, he hugs Teddy tearfully.

‘Write tonight to let me know the journey was okay, please,’ Harry reminds him. ‘And remember, if you think you want to change any of your OWL subjects, Professor McGongall will let you, don’t panic over it.’

‘Okay, Harry,’ Teddy drawls.

‘And be safe, and have fun, and study hard but not too hard,’ Harry recites. ‘And no having Macomber do anymore of your homework, please.’

‘Okay, Harry,’ Teddy nods, eyes trailing behind him and Harry knows he’s found his friends.

‘Well, you’re set to go,’ Harry smiles, opening his arms again. Teddy’s hug is quick and warm and Harry lifts him up a little to which he protests loudly.

‘We look ridiculous, Harry, please,’ he cries. 

‘We look fine,’ Harry assures him. ‘Have a nice term, I’ll see you for Christmas, Teddy.’

‘Bye Harry,’ Teddy shouts after him, one hand waving wildly as he runs over to his friends. He grips the bar next to the opening as he begins to get on. 

‘Love you, Teddy!’ Harry shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth to make his voice heard.

Teddy’s cheeks go pink, but Harry sees him mouth the words back and he laughs contentedly. He only leaves once the train has left the platform, whistling away noisily. He wants to go to Hogwarts too, for altogether different reasons than Teddy, but that longing is buried deep inside him.

He returns to their house which is quiet now. Some of the cake he had baked is still left over, and he pokes at it with a fork to sneak some bites in. Then he switches on the radio, an lively song from The Cauldrons blasts through and he can appreciate its cadence as he cleans.

The calendar on the wall is begging to have all its days crossed off till Christmas. Still, there’s a part of him that knows he’s free to be as sad as he likes for the months ahead. There’s no one in the house to keep up appearances for.