Godson

by Marpessa

Author's Note: I woke up at three in the morning with a very feverish and passionate urge to write this. I have not been on fanfiction in so long. I don't know if this is a story often written, but I imagine it is. Anyway, it is now 4:33 AM, and I hope with all my heart that you enjoy this. Thanks to all those who have so patiently waited for my return :). EDIT: Thanks to The Awkward Turtle for telling me that James is 'Prongs,' not 'Padfoot'. I told you it was three in the morning :P.

Harry felt unsteady and awkward as an incomprehensibly small child was lowered like fragile cargo on a crane into his arms. The baby's head immediately made keep in the small nook of Harry's elbow, which, it seemed, was made for just that purpose. Harry looked towards the audience that had gathered around him. His look must have begged for solidarity, he thought, as Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Mrs. Tonks, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Bill and Fleur, after a moment of quiet argument, turned and sought retreat in the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley made a harsh, "Shh!" as Harry heard Fleur's distant voice coo, "Ees eet best to leave 'im alone wis ze babe?"

Harry's hurried glances around the room made him realize suddenly how alone his request left him, aside from the stirring mass in his clumsy arms. He looked down to it.

So this was Teddy Lupin, the boy who, thanks to Harry, would now suffer a fate not so different than his own. This young child's birth, Harry felt, could have been announced minutes ago. Lupin could have been in the kitchen with the others at that exact moment, celebrating with wine and laughter. For a split second, Harry almost made himself believe it was so, that Teddy's parents were simply congregated in a different room, or perhaps that they were on holiday somewhere and wouldn't be back for a while.

And with a pang of guilt, Harry's insides twisted at the thought of Lupin and Tonks. Their deaths were a horrible enough blow to Harry's conscience and heart, as they died so unselfishly in the act of protecting his well-being... when he had done nothing for them. At that moment of affection, Harry felt as he thought he'd feel if Ron and Hermione died. These were two of his closest friends. What would he do without them? One had taught him probably the greatest magic he would ever learn. The other was clumsy but delightfully upbeat. She was a manifest Patronus, a blinding light in such dark times.

Suddenly Harry remembered the look of earnest upon Tonks's face, when she had asked anyone that would listen if they knew the whereabouts of her husband. Harry himself had not seen them die, but he let himself cascade into the briefest moment of whimsy.

No doubt it was hopelessly romantic. Tonks would have at last found Lupin as he was dueling Dolohov. He would have been so glad to see her bubble-gum pink hair, and she would have filled his heart with pride and bravery. The world would've stopped, a moment frozen in time as the two ran for each other. They would've fallen into a passionate embrace. As they kissed, the scene around them would have burst back into life. But neither would care. They would've been happy to go on together. And as the world resumed turning, the two would have held each other so close that it would take only one beautiful flash of green from Dolohov's wand to end it all. Their two bodies would lay together in the Great Hall, seemingly ordinary in every way, but their hands would have held together in a grasp so unusually tight for the dead. They would be forever intertwined, forever in love. This Harry knew.

His eyes focused back on the dimly lit living room of Tonks's parents' home before he was ready. Harry looked down again at the baby he was holding so carefully. He examined the baby's face for the longest time. His hair was currently a curiously uninteresting shade of brown, one much like Harry imagined Lupin's had been before they met. His face was smooth and perfect. He had a calming air about him, much like his mother did at one time.

The baby too must have been looking at Harry's burnt and scarred face, for his own twisted into an unforgettable frown. Suddenly a whimpering cry that tugged at Harry's heartstrings escaped the child's mouth. He did not know what to do. He shushed the baby and lightly bounced him in his arms, but it was no use. When he failed to calm him, it was as though Teddy's sad disposition rose into the air like a poisonous gas, its toxic fumes targeting Harry like prey.

And Harry was yet again overwhelmed with a dismal ache in his chest. He thought of Teddy. He thought of how he would never know his parents. Harry and his parents were together for an entire, amazing year, practically an eternity compared to the few, brief weeks Teddy shared with his. There was so much Teddy would never get to experience. No first ridiculous-looking haircuts by his mother. No learning to ride a broomstick from his father. Harry felt selfish and ashamed. Teddy Lupin may never be able to see his parents' faces staring kindly back at him in the Mirror of Erised. He would have no photo album of memories to glance through when times were hard. Surely he would never experience the wonders of Priori Incantatem or the Resurrection Stone and see his parents' encouraging spirits like Harry had, it seemed, a thousand years before.

In that moment, with tears dripping down his face and dangling threateningly from his nose, Harry swore aloud to the child, "I will do everything I can to help you know your mum and dad. You'll know they loved... love you. I promise." The baby's crying ceased, and his red face stared up at Harry.

"They were great, you know," Harry needlessly continued. "Your dad was the most amazing teacher I've ever had. He taught me this." Harry gingerly reached for his jeans' pocket and grabbed his wand. Without even needing to harness a happy memory, his stag erupted from the tip. It galloped jubilantly once around the room, and pranced up to the baby at Harry's command. They stared into each other's eyes for an eternity. Teddy finally tried to grab at the stag's silvery nose, but ended with a fistful of mist.

As the Patronus leaped into the air and withdrew into his wand, Harry said softly, as if the baby understood, "My dad was a stag, see. 'Prongs,' they called him. Your dad was 'Moony,' but I can tell you why later. They were great frien-"

He was interrupted by the sound of laughter re-entering the room. It was Hermione, with a camera in her hand. The pitifully sentimental look on her face indicated that she knew he had been crying, but to Harry's relief, she said nothing.

"Picture then, Harry?" Ron asked as he stepped back into the room. Harry rubbed his eyes hastily.

"Uh... yeah. Yeah, absolutely."

And as Ginny took hold of the camera, Ron sat on the arm of the chair, Hermione sat on the floor, and the baby's hair turned a bright shade of sea green, Harry could swear he heard right by his ear a woman with a smile forever engraved in her tender voice whisper happily, "Wotcher, Harry."