A/N: Ollivander's challenge, week four. The prompt was "The funerals of Fred Weasley and/or Remus/Tonks." I'm doing the latter, and it's Teddy-centric. Maybe a bit off the prompt, but this drabble-ish thing is what happened. Quite a break from the Romione fluff I've been writing lately!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter, as usual.

Teddy Lupin had known about his parents as long as he could remember. Gran had displayed their photographs all over the house, and they'd been the primary stars of his bedtime stories as soon as he'd been old enough to understand stories at all. Harry would talk about them too, when he asked. Teddy liked talking to Harry, because Harry knew just what it was like. Harry had lost his parents, too.

He had never been afraid to ask about them. It was the only way he could get to know them, really, since they couldn't answer his questions themselves. Gran preferred to talk about the good times. She told stories about his mum when she was little, about their wedding, about how very brave they were. But if he wanted to know about the war that had taken them, he'd have to ask Harry, because he simply couldn't bear to see Gran cry.

Once, when he was about eight, he'd asked Harry a question he simply couldn't answer. "Why me? Why don't I get to have parents?"

"I've been asking myself the same thing for years," Harry had told him slowly. "There isn't any reason good enough. There just isn't."

At first, Teddy hadn't been satisfied, but as time went on he began to realize exactly what his godfather had meant. Yes, it was true that while everyone else talked of seeing their mum and dad at Christmas, he talked of going to visit the graves of two war heroes he knew only through pictures and stories. But there was nothing about him that made it that way. The question wasn't "why me;" it was "why them?"

By the time he was seventeen, Teddy understood that there was sort of a reason. His parents were dead because one sick fuck had convinced some other sick fucks to carry out his sick fuckery, and his parents had tried to stop it. It wasn't a good reason and it sure as hell wasn't fair, but it was as close to the truth as anyone would ever get. It still didn't answer why, not really, but it was the only reason he had.

Throughout his childhood, Teddy had gone to visit his parents' graves only a couple of times a year. He would go with Gran to leave some flowers, or with Harry to trim the grass so that it wouldn't cover the headstone. But he could never stay longer than a few minutes, could never bring himself to do anything more than grounds maintenance, until he was twenty-two. When he was twenty-two, he decided it was finally time to attend his parents' funeral.

He'd been at the official funeral twenty-two years previously, of course, but he'd been an infant. He'd once asked Harry what it was like. Harry's only answer had been "miserable."

"But you got to say goodbye, didn't you?" Teddy had asked.

"Yeah, we did," Harry had said simply.

He wanted that. He wanted to be able to say goodbye to his parents, to truly pay his respects to them. So, he went to their graves by himself one morning in early May, and for the first time, he wasn't armed with flowers or grass trimmers to take his mind off where he was.

After he'd reached the place and sat himself down against the tree that stood to the left of the headstone, Teddy was quiet for a good long while. He'd never been to a funeral himself, but he knew they were quiet and sorrowful. So instead of talking, he thought.

He thought about his parents, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, and about the stories he'd grown up with that made those names more than just names. He thought about the pictures, and how he had his mother's gift of changing his appearance, but how he'd never changed his eyes because they were exactly like his father's.

He thought about every important moment in his life: the first time he'd done accidental magic, the morning he'd boarded the Hogwarts Express as a bright-eyed eleven year old, the year he'd finally been made Beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the day he'd officially joined the Auror Department to work under his godfather, the moment he'd asked Victoire Weasley to marry him...

As Teddy sat there, alone in a cemetery on a chilly May morning, he thought fondly of those wonderful moments, and he thought wistfully of how different it all could have been, how much better, if the two people he'd longed to share it with hadn't been missing from the memories.

After awhile, he reckoned it was about the time someone would give a eulogy at a proper funeral. Checking around quickly to make certain he was alone, he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Erm...Mum, Dad. Hi. It's me. Teddy," he stopped for a second, suddenly very unsure of what to say. He supposed he had twenty-two years worth of things to say, but Gran had always told him that his parents were someplace that was closer than he thought, watching over him as he grew. He wasn't entirely sure where they were or how such a thing was possible, but he'd believed her - and he still did. He simply had to. So, he cut the formalities and spoke straight from the heart.

"I wish you were here," he began softly. "People at school always used to ask me if I missed you, but I don't suppose I could have, since I never really knew you. But I've always wished I had the chance to, you know? But I didn't, so here I am talking to a headstone. Stupid, right?"

He stopped for a moment to snort humorlessly. It was a good job he was alone, because he was fairly certain this was the worst eulogy ever given. But he kept going, because he figured, if they really were his parents, they were meant to love him all the same.

"I'm getting married soon, you know. To Victoire Weasley. I think you'd like her. Her dad says he was friends with you, Mum, and that Dad, you helped him to recover after Greyback attacked him. Vic's a lot like her dad, so I guess that by extension you'd probably think she was alright. Maybe I'll bring her round sometime," he said with half a smile. "Better than nothing, right?"

Teddy coughed, shifting uncomfortably as he spoke. "Thanks for making Harry my godfather. I think it's a good thing I got to know him as Harry, my godfather, instead of as Harry Potter, the boy who lived, and I dunno if I would have got to otherwise. He gave me your map, Dad, and told me all about how you and his dad were mates. Anyway, I gave it to James a few years ago, when he started at Hogwarts. It seemed fitting that he'd get it, and Al will after him. I don't think they'll give it to Lily, though, she'll always be the baby."

He stopped again and took a deep breath. Looking around him one more time to ensure he was still alone, he continued. "Anyway, I feel a bit silly, so I suppose I'll finish up. I wanted to come here today because I didn't get to say goodbye, and until now I've been too..I dunno, scared or something. But it's stupid, you know, because it's impossible for me to say goodbye when I never really got to say hello in the first place. But it's still nice, you see, to think that you can hear me somewhere. I hope you can. I hope Gran's right, and that you're waiting for us someplace. Stories only do so much, you know?"

Teddy's voice broke on the last word, and he took a moment to collect himself. None of this was fair. "So, thank you, I suppose. Gran and Harry have always said you died because you were trying to make this a better world for me. I used to kind of resent you for it, you know, because I didn't think a world without my parents could be better, but I don't anymore. I'd have done the same thing, you know. I told Harry as much, and he said that's how he knows I'm your son. He said you'd be proud of me. I hope that's true. So...bye, then. Til next time."

With a wave of his wand, Teddy conjured a small bouquet of roses and laid it carefully next to the headstone, thus ending his makeshift funeral service. He lingered only a moment, his eyes taking in the names and dates carved on the stone so as to further commit them to memory, before he turned on his heel and walked swiftly in the other direction, eager to get away from the overwhelming emotion that seemed to suffocate him whenever he stayed in that spot too long. The feeling was almost intangible; it was the feeling that something essential had been broken, and that there was no hope of it ever being fixed. But this time, there was something else as well. Today, Teddy felt at peace as he left his parents' graves. He hadn't got to say goodbye, not really, but for the first time, he felt as though he had the chance to say something, and that made all the difference.

A/N: Stream of consciousness fic say what? Not the most polished thing I've ever written, but I'm still fairly pleased with it. Thank you for reading :)