The Final Letter

AlwaysPadfoot

AN: For the QLFC Final One Round. Using the character Andromeda with Teddy.

I still felt hollow.

It had been a week now; three days since the funeral. I was stood in the doorway of Grandma Andromeda's bedroom. I'd almost forgotten what a contrast there was between the perfect state of the main house and her bedroom. Up here there were things everywhere; up here was a picture of everything Gran was.

There were magazines and books stacked up on the bedside alongside a half-finished glass of water. The bedsheets were all rumpled at the bottom probably where some healer had pushed them back so that they could…

My eyes were drawn to the opposite bedside where a bright pink framed photo sat. I moved closer and watching it made my heart ache. I was running in circles, blue hair sticking up on end as Gran conjured large purple bubbles in the garden. Dragging my sleeve across my face, I picked up the photo and sat on the edge of the bed. This was one of my favourite photos, but I hadn't realised Gran had moved it upstairs. Behind our photo was a picture of my parents; a photo that had caused me to ask so many questions in the past as a child and as an adult.

Gran said it had been taken in the war and I often wondered how two people could be so happy when all the things that happened in the war were happening around them. Dad was hiding his face in Mum's bright pink hair.

I swallowed back a sob. Not knowing them, and now losing Gran, and sitting here in her room, on her bed.

I put the photo back down and stood back up. The air in the room was still and it was compressing around me. I was inclined to leave, but I wanted to stay, I just wanted to spend some time feeling close to the lady who raised me.

I pushed the window open. A cool breeze blew past me and the hairs raised on my arms. My eyes slid back across to the bed where a freeze frame in my mind registered seeing a jacket. I saw it straight away, the sleeve of a bright blue hoody was sticking out from under the pillow, Gran had obviously dragged it into bed with her. It was probably an accident, something that got mixed up in the washing. It was an old jacket, a little tight when I pulled it on, but it served the purpose of warming me it up a little.

The door into her bathroom was open and I almost moved right past it until I noticed a light on inside.

I frowned, pushing the door open with the tips of my fingers, the natural light from the bedroom spilled inwards. My gaze was immediately drawn to the centre of the mirror and there stuck up with a piece of blue tack was a A5 envelope with my name scrawled in loopy blue.

It was Gran's writing.

Slowly I pulled it down, handling it with the greatest care like it might disappear if I was too rough. She couldn't have left me a note; she couldn't have know that she was going to die, unless, unless she knew she was sick.

I sat down on the edge of the bath and slid my finger under the seal to ease it open. The parchment inside was scrawled on from edge to edge and on both sides in familiar blue print.

My hands were shaking as I unfolded the paper; it was dated the day of her death.

Dear Teddy,

I know that this was a selfish way to tell you that I'm sick. Afterwards.

The healers told me it would be soon, goodness knows why they can't give you a timespan in 2037, but I didn't have the heart to tell you, anyone, what was happening. I was old Teddy remember that. I saw my grandson grow up; I saw you get married and have kids of your own. I saw my great granddaughters. Not so many people are as lucky as that.

If I know you, you're sitting in my bathroom wondering what you come have done to help; the answer is nothing. There was nothing you could have done. I wasn't in pain, but this morning when I wrote this I knew that you'd find in when you finally came to clear my things. For now I can't know how long ago it was when I died but I can understand that you might be angry or upset. I'm sorry for not telling you, but the only thing that would have done was for us to spend my last days being upset that I was dying. I didn't want to do that to you.

I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you and to tell you how proud I know they would have been. When I saw your hair shoot to blue that first time after I began to look after you I wasn't sure how I could raise you after what happened. Your Aunt Narcissa had to coach me through those first few months.

I watched you grow through all your ups and fight through all your downs. I watched you become prefect and then head boy and leave Hogwarts with some of the highest grades in your year. I saw you fall apart after your first relationship didn't work; then I saw you blossom with Roxanne and bring up two beautiful daughters. Remi and Daisy have two perfect parents, two people who deserve to see their family succeed and develop. I will see just as much from where I am; I promised myself that I'd watch over them. Nobody deserves the world more than you and your family.

I haven't left you alone, although it may feel as though, I've left you surrounded by people that will love you and keep you safe. I don't need to tell you how much your family will do that. You and Draco have always had a close bond. He's acted almost like a father-figure to you and I don't think I've ever been able to tell him how much I respected him for taking you on. You played hide-and-seek together in Aunt Narcissa's house almost every week; you stubbornly turned your hair white blonde for almost a month in protest at eight years old; you ran away to his house because I wouldn't buy you a bike right that day. He saved me a great deal of stress sometimes; you had your moments. I also realise you have the whole Potter-Weasley Conglomerate to watch your every move and Godfather Harry wouldn't let you go too far off track.

I have seen you become a spectacular person and you have treated me well in all the years you've known me. I thought a lot about how to end this letter and I don't want it to end, but I need you to know how proud I am to have called you my grandson. I love you, Teddy.

Love,

Grandma.

PS: Don't cry in my bathtub; it's not all that comfortable.

I choked back a tearful laugh. Of course, of course she was making a joke about the bathtub in her final letter to me. Suddenly my jumper under her pillow made sense; she must have sensed that it would be her final night when she got into bed. My face was wet with tears and I slid down onto the bath mat. Okay, so I wasn't allowed to cry in the bath but the floor should be fine.

My heart ached.

I missed Gran so much.