*
It must be so lonely.
Having to always, always, always be the Boy-Who-Lived.
Teddy realises this while he's fairly young. During one of the many Christmas celebrations held across different Potter-Weasley households, not including a small, home-cooked meal overnight with Grandmother Andromeda for only Teddy, Harry always seems surrounded by other people barging in for a moment of Harry's time to spare. Crowded into a corner. Quietly and involuntarily detached from what is going on.
It is always Harry...
Harry, disappearing into London after divorcing Ginny Weasley, came home to James Sirius, who eagerly showed off a new skill on his favourite broom, and Albus Severus, ignored Harry completely for days (leaving Teddy bewildered, as he stubbornly visited more and more with Harry's return), and Lily Luna, at four months old... Harry, listening to a wide-eyed Teddy confess he didn't fancy Victoire Weasley before his first Hogwarts term, nodding understandingly when Teddy admitted to being nervous of Fleur's wrath for making Victoire cry, not Bill...
Harry, Harry, Harry, wearing a gifted Gryffindor-red and gold knitted sweater from Molly Weasley, slumping down in a old quilted loveseat while Dominique Weasley and Angelina Johnson have a conversation about Wiz-O-Wigs over Harry's head.
Those bright green eyes of his... unfocused.
Nobody notices the littlest lines on Harry's forehead deepen.
Nobody notices the body-trembling sigh.
And nobody notices when the twenty-nine-year-old suddenly removes his spectacles, pinching roughly on his own nose, Harry's hands tightening.
Teddy notices. He always notices Harry.
And waits.
Harry eventually glances up, also noticing, and Teddy uses his Metamorphmagus abilities to transform into Harry's appearance.
Right down to the forehead-lines...
As soon as Not-Harry crosses his eyes in an exaggerated manner and sticks his tongue obnoxiously out, Harry laughs so smilingly at Not-Harry that it astounds everyone else. From then on, Teddy swears that Harry, his godfather, his father figure, would never feel lonely again.
*
At the stroke of midnight, on July 30th 2016, Lyall Lupin's old grandfather clock chimes.
Then, a heavy hand knocks on the Tonks household's entry-door.
"Go on, go on..."
"Gran," Teddy grumbles with a reluctant smile, letting her ease the Hogwarts robes from last year on his arms. A bit shorter, smaller now. Grandmother Andromeda tuts and shoos him still, circling their familiar, lamplit sitting room, admiring the yellow-and-black Head Boy badge.
"Such a handsome young man..."
"I would agree," Harry remarks while entering through the door-frame and knocking again. His fingers lifted.
Teddy's expression drops, stunned. Too stunned to throw himself into Harry's arms, welcoming him as Teddy usually would.
It is... HARRY POTTER'S birthday... why is he HERE?
As far back as Teddy could remember, his godfather Harry's birthday was treated as an annual Wizarding World event, every year. Practically as a rule. Quidditch teams, all throughout England, performed their own tributes to Harry's school-year Quidditch wins. The Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, often greeted Harry wherever celebrations occurred and shook Harry's hand, offering a pint like a very close friend. The Leaky Cauldron and its occupants sang and boasted and wept happily about the many defeats of Lord Voldemort.
Teddy never could manage to get alone with him. Harry would be surrounded by Weasleys, getting his arms piled on brightly ribboned gifts and magical knickknacks and plates of Mrs Weasley's home-cooked meals... or the entirety of the Auror department, drinking whole bottles of firewhisky and swapping stories... or Ron and Hermione, inviting a halfhearted Harry out to a private dinner reservation... or Harry's kids...
(Lily Luna has stared forlornly at the tightness in Teddy's face when someone else, always someone else interrupts Harry away from Teddy.)
But right now... it is nobody.
It is nobody but Harry Potter in woolen, white jumper and a pair of Muggle blue-denim trousers.
Grandmother Andromeda busies herself with clearing one of the two delicate tables. Her enchanted aspidistra wiggles.
"How was your ride on the Knight Bus? Any wandering eyes?" she asks.
"Faces coming and going, more like," Harry says after a moment of considering. Teddy, still stunned, watches between them. "Mostly me and Ernie Prang's son, Jimmy. Ernie got reinstated as the Knight Bus's driver back in 2000 and passed on 2005. Jimmy drives remarkably like him."
Teddy's mouth snaps shut.
"You... knew Harry was coming?" Teddy mumbles.
Grandmother Andromeda's eyes twinkle in amusement.
Harry unshrugs a rucksack. "I rang your gran earlier," he explains, and Merlinsave him, Teddy occasionally glances down to the stretched-out collar of Harry's jumper revealing a bit of chest hair. "My flat needs repairs and she's offered me an armchair for a kip."
Grandmother Andromeda tuts again, much more softly. "Nonsense," she says. "You can have Teddy's bed."
"Absolutely yes," comes out a breathless blurt.
Teddy flushes, humiliated, when those bright green eyes light up behind Harry's spectacles.
The tips of Teddy's shoulder-length hair flush the same atrocious pink.
Bloody effing hell...
Harry examines him, up and down, and up to Teddy's gaze bashfully looking down, approaching.
He ruffles Teddy's hair, and Teddy remembers so clearly when they last seen each other....
A trip to Hogsmeade during winter. Many winters ago. Lily Luna hadn't been born yet. Teddy did his best to cheer up a brooding-eyed Harry walking aside him, reciting the funniest jokes he heard from George Weasley and James Sirius Potter, morphing silly faces.
Eventually, Teddy learned Harry wanted to listen.
And have a listening ear.
Harry gave Teddy advice about Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.
While ruffling Teddy's windswept and snow-dusted hair, it tinged blue unconsciously. Harry fondly murmured about nice the colour looked on Teddy. And it stuck with Teddy. From then, he consciously morphed his hair a shade of blue solely for Harry's eyes and attention to catch.
But... that had been years ago...
The corners of Harry's mouth smile when Teddy's hair blues underneath fingers affectionately stroking a moment longer.
"I heard what happened, Teddy... Victor Kidd. You saved his life."
ANAPNEO!
In the Great Hall, Teddy's seventh-year and as Head Boy, Teddy seemed to be the only one noticing the Gryffindor first-year student... surrounded by other faces... quietly choking. He hurried over, properly startling one of the Gryffindor prefects, reciting the Healing spell to unobstruct the airway. When it didn't work, Teddy wrapped his arms round the little Gryffindor, balling a fist and compressing into a diaphragm repeatedly until the half-chewed piece of bread roll splattered onto the floor. A commotion ensued. Teddy went flustered at the praise.
"I also heard Madam Abbott speaking so highly of you this following year after. The Matron of Hogwarts Hospital Wing herself? She's not easily impressed... and neither was Madam Pomfrey while I was at Hogwarts, to my memory," Harry points out, lowering his hand from Teddy's turquoise-blue hair, and Teddy simpers. "Being a Metamorphmagus is extraordinary in itself, but... did you consider your knack for healing?"
"Suppose... I dunno, suppose I haven't really," Teddy mutters, feeling a sense of humiliation rise in his chest. He hasn't decided his career yet. Grandmother Andromeda taught him everything Druella Black taught her about complex and basic Healing skills. Along with Muggle ones.
"Teddy's still finding his footing, Harry."
"No shame in that," Harry answers, nodding understandingly to Grandmother Andromeda enchanting Harry's rucksack. His bright green eyes turn to Teddy. And to the Head Boy badge pinned to Teddy's old robes. Teddy absently covers it with a hand, and Harry patiently adjusts Teddy's robes. As if doing so for one of his own children. "You earned that badge for a reason... you're a good lad. I hope you know I've always known it."
Good lad...
Teddy scrunches his nose, fighting another blush and the swell of oncoming emotion.
He leans up onto his toes, embracing Harry.
"Whoa," Harry says lowly, tightening his arms to Teddy whispering—"happy birthday, Harry,"—and then, Harry's chuckle of "alright, alright, enough of that."
Never.
Never could there be enough of Harry.
*
After an hour, all settles.
Teddy imagines Harry in the sitting room alone. Is it best? Should Harry have refused Teddy's bed and laid out alone?
(With the number of magically strong barriers and protection charms surrounding Teddy's and Grandmother Andromeda's house, Harry would be safe. Safer than he would be anywhere else in the Wizarding World, Teddy fiercely believes. If Harry needs to get away from others, it's better.)
Changing out of his things, Teddy yanks on a sleeping shirt and a corduroy-brown dungaree. His feet bare. The metal of the door lintel creaks, and Teddy listens for anyone. When it is clear, he tiptoes into the short hallway, past the newly scrubbed and rose-decorated bathroom, and to where Harry is. Harry's rucksack opened on the rug, full of unironed and Muggle-made clothing Harry came in, as well as personal toiletries.
In the armchair, Harry sleeps, leaning back with his knees wide apart.
Harry's entire head and chin, slumped forward.
Teddy stifles a loud exhale, running his fingertips into his shoulder-length locks fading into a creamy shade of blue. He kneels down in the opening of Harry's knees and legs. With a little mortification, Teddy realises one of Harry's hands burrowed into his trousers... did...
Did Harry fall asleep while... having one off...
It looks uncomfortable, Teddy decides, staring far too long. Harry's fingers/hand/arm must be cramping.
Harry's eyelids twitch faintly.
The trouser-bulge, softened, starts shifting noticably. Harry's hand?
Good lad...
Teddy quivers slightly when Harry's praise returns to mind.
At first, Teddy keeps his eyes on the shadow of Harry's lashes in the sitting room's dimness, while he eases apart the denim-trousers further.
The tip of Harry's prick prods out. Teddy's eyes flick.
In the name of Merlin... Harry's beautiful. Shaped full and and plump. Reddish colour.
He listens for Grandmother Andromeda's snores drifting from the hallway, and Teddy decides to get closer. And sniffs. Harry's prick has a natural musky odour to it, but rather clean. Teddy's mouth waters. He wonders what... it would be like. Having Harry. Having that fleshy and hot prick cradled on Teddy's tongue... like when Victoire offered to bring Teddy off before they separated. She cried when Teddy never got hard.
Good lad...
Teddy opens his lips, gently kissing and lathing, Teddy's tongue discovering the soft slit. As soon as he licks flat along it, Harry's breathing hitches and deepens. Very pleasantly. Teddy licks down Harry's length of exposed flesh, wetting him, and circles his fingers on it.
He crams what can fit of Harry past Teddy's teeth and the back of his mouth, stifling a groan. Harry throbs and throbs.
He... wanks the one Teddy loves desperately off.
Outside of Teddy's attention, Harry stirs.
"Good lad," Harry murmurs drowsily, and Teddy nearly loses control of himself when those bright green eyes open. Teddy's own groin throbbing fiercely. He reluctantly opens his mouth, letting Harry's prick bob against Teddy's upper lip. Everything covered in dripping and warm saliva.
"Harry... were you...?"
A thumb caresses against Teddy's wrist when Harry has Teddy release the grip on Harry's prick. Harry tucks himself.
"You didn't have to, love... thank you," he says, beginning to grin, accepting the weight of Teddy's long, lanky form crawling right on top of him, settling to Harry's lap.
Never.
Never wouldn't Teddy for Harry.
They won't be alone.
*