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Teddy is asleep.
Harry wishes he could be in his nursery with him as opposed to in the sitting room with his grandmother, staring down at a mug of tea that is likely ice cold by now. He had a lot of things he planned to say before he arrived, but now his mind is blank.
Her stare is burning into the side of his head, but he can’t bring himself to look at her.
After a few minutes, Andromeda Tonks sighs. Harry grimaces at the sound, hating that he’s inconveniencing someone who has lost so much already. He shouldn’t be here. There’s so much to do, now that the war is over: so many lives have been lost, and the survivors all want to hear from him. Kingsley, now the Prime Minister, had told him to get some rest but he should’ve stayed to clean up some more. He should’ve–
“How should we split custody?”
Harry blinks: once, then twice, then three times. There’s no way he heard that right, but when he cautiously glances up, it’s to find Mrs. Tonks sitting across from him with her mug in hand, clearly waiting for an answer.
“Er–” He says, and then can’t say anything else, too tongue tied to do more than blink rapidly as he tries to figure out what is happening. Mrs. Tonks sighs across from him and Harry flushes, regretting not planning this out more.
“What days of the week do you want your godson?” When Harry still doesn’t answer her, Mrs. Tonks rolls her eyes at him. “You accepted a responsibility when Remus asked you to be his son’s godson, and I’m assuming you showing up here without so much as a shower after you defeated Voldemort means that you were serious when you said yes. I am not going to just hand off my grandson, however, I am happy to split custody. How would you like to do this?”
Harry takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look at her head on. It’s hard to do so when she looks so similar to her sister, but he reminds himself that she isn’t Bellatrix Lestrange. Her hair might have the same thick curls, but it’s light brown, not black. Her eyes are brown like Bellatrix’s had been, but are also wider and a lighter shade, with warmth in them. The current bags underneath them show how affected she is by recent events, something that her sister had never been capable of feeling.
“Do you really want me raising your grandson?” He asks, needing to know. He can’t imagine that she feels that way, not when it’s his fault that the war carried on for so long. It’s his fault that she lost almost her entire family.
She studies him for a long minute, Harry forcing himself to meet her eyes despite wanting to flinch away. He’s not sure what she finds in his expression, but it seems to clear something up for her. He has the sudden worry that she could be a legilimens–he’s so tired of people invading his privacy by reading his mind, but she disproves that thought before it can fully form.
“I don’t know you well enough to tell.” She says, her voice even. Harry can respect her honesty, sinking back into the couch. After so long spent on the run the softness of it is foreign to him. “However, it is not my opinion that matters most in this situation. My daughter and son-in-law are Teddy’s parents, and they chose you for a reason. We must honor that.”
Harry swallows harshly, trying to figure out why they would’ve chosen him. He can’t imagine that he’ll be any good to Teddy. What does he know about raising a child, except what not to do?
“Why do you think you won’t be good for him?” Mrs. Tonks asks bluntly, Harry hating how easy it is for her to read him. He wants to change the subject but she was honest with him, and she deserves the same respect returned to her.
“I’m sorry.” He says, and wants to scream for how inadequate those two words feel. They can’t bring back her daughter or husband or anyone else she’s lost. He clears his throat, trying to ignore how scratchy it feels, and starts again. “I am so sorry. I should have done more–if I had been better, they would still–”
“I’m going to stop you there.” She interrupts, and now her voice is as cold as steel. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, his heart racing; this is the moment she realizes who she’s talking to and what he’s done to her, and reacts: he’s never going to be allowed to meet Teddy. This is it. “My husband, daughter, and son-in-law were fighters. They died for a cause that we all believe in. You did not kill them, and to imply that they died in any way other than they did is a disrespect they do not deserve.”
Harry doesn’t know what his face is doing–his entire body feels numb–but whatever it is causes her to huff, reaching forward and slamming her mug onto the table. Her eyes are narrowed on him as she leans forward.
“You have a hard time looking at me.” She notes, and Harry swallows harshly. She nods to herself, not seeming surprised. “I look a lot like Bellatrix, I always have. She used to use it to escape trouble.” For a second he can see love in her eyes, before that look disappears. Harry has a hard time picturing Bellatrix as a child; it feels wrong to think that she ever could’ve been small and innocent when she’s caused so much harm to so many people.
“There have been many moments where I’ve wished for my daughters, and now my grandson’s, gift. To be able to change one’s appearance at will. . . There have been times I’ve looked in the mirror and hated myself; the shape of my nose, the curves of my cheekbones, the dimples that only appear when I smile.”
Harry has never considered that others could hate their appearance the way he often has. He can’t take his eyes off of her as she speaks, a complete opposite to his hesitance earlier. Ashamedly, he never stopped to consider how it would feel for her to look in the mirror and have Bellatrix Lestrange looking back.
“I felt that way before she murdered my child.” She says, her tone displaying the magnitude of her hurt while remaining steady. Her words steal the air out of Harry’s lungs; he hadn’t known that it was Bellatrix to kill Tonks. “You can imagine how I feel now.”
Harry can’t. He has no siblings, he can’t imagine growing up looking up to an older sibling, only for them to betray him in the worst way imaginable. He’s not sure he’d be able to survive such a thing, and that thought makes his respect for her grow.
“I can’t begin to imagine the survivor’s guilt you’re feeling.” She says, and Harry finds sympathy in her eyes now, her voice much calmer. She picks up her mug again, taking a careful sip of it, and Harry takes the moment to try and process what he’s been told. “If this is going to work the way I imagine we both want it to, we need to be on the same page.”
Harry nods at that, finding it to be a reasonable request. He’s not in any position to deny her anything she wants, especially something so basic.
“It’ll undoubtedly take you time, but I need you to put in the work to understand that you are not responsible for Dora and Remus’s deaths, or anyone else’s, I imagine.” When he opens his mouth to respond, she shakes her head at him. “Unless you were running around casting killing curses, you are not responsible for other people’s deplorable decisions. Putting that weight on yourself is only going to hold you down, and I need you to stand taller than you ever have. Do it for Teddy if you can’t do it for yourself.”
How can he possibly say no to that?
“How can I do that?” Harry asks in no more than a whisper, feeling exhaustion crash into him. He’d crashed after the battle, not even giving himself time to change, and yet he feels as if he hasn’t slept in months. He has so much to do, and all he wants to do is sleep. “This is all I know.”
There is no pity in her eyes, only understanding and a deep sadness.
“We are both going to put ourselves in therapy, and we are going to hold each other accountable. We are going to work out a schedule for Teddy, and we are going to write up contracts and agreements. We are going to do everything we can to give Teddy the best life we can, and we are going to do that together.”
When she’s met with wide eyes from Harry, her face softens.
“We are going to do all of that later.” She continues, and relief crashes through him at the reprieve. “Neither of us are in the right headspace to handle this properly. Also, he’ll wake up soon, and I imagine that you want to be refreshed when he does.”
There’s a small smirk on her face at those last words, and it properly sinks in just how disheveled Harry is. He didn’t exactly have the time to shower while breaking into a bank, or during the battle afterwards, and he rushed here as soon as he woke up after the battle. He’s covered in blood and grime, and he isn’t sure how she’s managed to hide her disgust at his appearance, although he imagines that she’s used to it, being a member of the Order.
“I would, yeah.” He says with an embarrassed laugh, willing his blush to vanish.
“Right, then, I’ll show you to the guest room. It has a bathroom across the hall, and I’ll find you some of Remus’s clothes for after your shower. We won’t be able to hear you out here, so don’t worry about waking Teddy up. You can meet him after you’ve rested up, he won’t be awake properly for a few hours.”
Harry follows after her obediently, choked up by her hospitality. The thought of a hot shower and warm bed to sleep in is enough to have him not protesting wearing Remus’s clothing. He reminds himself that Remus absolutely wouldn’t mind him borrowing them, never having been one to care about things like that.
“Thank you, Mrs. Tonks.” He says as soon as she points to the room, and she tuts at him, shaking her head.
“None of that, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. Call me Andromeda.” She says, and Harry’s reminded of how her daughter was always threatening anyone who called her by her birth name, despising it the way she did. The comparison makes Harry feel sick, but he shoves past the familiar feeling of grief, nodding at Andromeda.
She nods back, and then he’s alone, the quiet surrounding him feeling unnatural.
He slowly walks to the sink, setting the bundle of Remus’s clothing on the counter, and stares at himself in the mirror. It’s no surprise that she took pity on him; he looks one wrong breeze away from being knocked over, exhaustion visible in his entire body. That’s not getting into the blood, cuts and bruises he’s covered in, and the visible scarring; one in particular running through his lip, making it painful to speak.
And people consider him to be their savior. What a complete joke.
Forcing himself not to break the mirror in front of him, he takes deep breaths and focuses instead on stripping without looking at himself as much as possible, practically running into the shower. The moment of relief–he’s missed hot water, showering, all of these things he’s taken advantage of having available to him–is ruined when he looks over and sees a bottle of shampoo specifically for dyed hair.
He hasn’t stopped to think about how just a few hours ago, Remus and Tonks were living in this house. The toothbrushes on the sink counter are theirs; the purple towel still drying on the rack is from one of them. They were alive just a few hours ago.
It hits him suddenly that Teddy is only a few rooms down, sleeping without any knowledge that his parents are now dead, and the thought is enough to have him bent over with the force of his sobbing.
He doesn’t sleep.
Harry wonders how it’s possible to feel so thoroughly drained and still not be able to turn his brain off long enough to sleep. He spends an hour in the bed Andromeda provided him with, staring at the ceiling and wondering how long he has to stay in this room before it’s socially acceptable to go find his host.
Even if he could get his mind to quiet down, he’s not sure he could fall asleep on this mattress. He’s not sure how he fell asleep back at Hogwarts, although he thinks it’s because he kept pushing until his body had no choice but to drop. The bed is too soft compared to what he’s gotten used to, and he wonders how he will ever go back to a normal lifestyle.
When the alarm clock next to him displays nine o’clock, Harry shoves himself off the bed, wavering slightly once he’s back on his feet. He has to blink past black-spots in his vision before he’s able to leave the room, following the sounds of soft music to the kitchen, where Andromeda stands above a stove. There’s a kettle on it starting to sing, though she seems not to notice. Her eyes are fixated on the fridge.
Harry moves to take care of the kettle, uncomfortable with the silence coming from Andromeda. She’s standing unnaturally still, and Harry wonders if she's aware of his presence.
After he’s taken care of it, he turns to speak to her, only to freeze when he sees what she’s looking at. There are a series of magnets covering the fridge; places they’ve clearly traveled to, art that they must’ve really liked, and two wedding photos. The first shows a younger Andromeda and Ted, arm in arm in a garden, beaming at the photographer. Ted had smile lines even then, and Harry thinks that he would’ve enjoyed getting to know him if he’d gotten the chance.
The second photo is of Tonks and Remus; Tonks with a wide smile as she stands on her tiptoes to press a kiss to her husband’s scarred cheek, Remus with a soft smile making him appear younger. They look happy. Harry wishes he could’ve attended their wedding, but he understands why they had to hold it in secret.
“Andromeda,” He says softly, forcing himself to look away from the photo. It takes a long moment for her to blink, and then she seems to slam back into herself. She stares around her as if lost, and then freezes when she sees Harry standing so close to her. He takes a careful step backwards, feeling haunted by her stare, and feels relieved when she turns away from him.
“Tea?” She asks a few moments later, unnatural joy in her voice falling flat. He says yes, if only to have something to hold. He looks away when he sees the shake to her hands, knowing that he wouldn’t want someone to bear witness if it was him.
“Teddy will be up any minute now.” She says, a shaky exhale following the words, and Harry aches for her. He doesn’t know how she’s still standing, although he thinks it might have something to do with the baby sleeping in the other room. Her grandson; all she has left of her family.
That thought falters Harry, who realizes that he has no idea what the relationship between Narcissa and Andromeda is like. He knows that they’re sisters, but he can’t imagine that they’re close now, if they ever were. She hasn’t mentioned that sister a single time, and Harry wonders if she’s aware that she’s alive. He’s not sure what will happen to the Malfoy’s, although he imagines he’ll get called to a trial if there is one. The thought makes him want to go into hibernation, or change his name and disappear. . . maybe he could convince Andromeda that a new life would be better for Teddy.
It’s a pipe dream and he knows it. He doesn’t even attempt to suggest it to her when they haven’t yet had a funeral for her child, or a memorial for her husband.
She’s just handed him a dark blue mug, pointing him to the sugar, when a cry pierces the air. Teddy is awake, and Harry feels nerves and excitement clash inside him, causing him to feel ill. He wants to meet him, but he doesn’t feel steady enough to take care of him, and suddenly he realizes he isn’t ready for any of this.
“I’ll be right back.” Andromeda sighs, moving down the hallway. Harry tracks her movements, feeling frozen. For a second he contemplates leaving, just turning on the spot and being anywhere else, but the thought of disappointing this woman who has lost so much keeps him rooted to the spot.
When she comes back out, she’s holding his godson, cooing softly at him in a well-practiced way. Harry can’t help the tears in his eyes at the sight of the messy black hair and light eyes.
“Do you want to hold him?” Andromeda asks, and Harry swallows harshly. He’s not sure if he trusts himself to do so; Teddy’s so small, only a few weeks old. He doesn’t have experience with babies, and the feeling of being inadequate fills him again. How does anyone expect him to get this right?
Teddy’s hair is blue when Harry looks back down to him, and the sight makes him feel close to tears. He’s known that he inherited his mother’s ability, but to see it in person makes Harry feel closer to her. She’d laugh at him if she could see his fear in the face of a baby, and it’s that thought that has him nodding.
Andromeda coaches him through how to position his arms, the proper way to hold a baby’s head, tells him not to bounce or shake him, and then forces him to sit down and positions him differently. The fussing makes him feel more present in his body, and suddenly all he feels is excitement as she carefully sets her grandson in his arms, Teddy blinking up at him with wide eyes.
The shape of his eyes is all Tonks, which is all Andromeda. She smiles when Harry says that, looking proud. He hears her move away, assuming she’s gone to get her tea, and he carefully reaches out to give Teddy his hand. Harry starts crying when Teddy’s whole hand wraps around his pinky finger. He’s so small. He’s small and helpless and so perfect.
Harry has no idea what he’s doing but he’s going to learn for this baby with Tonks’s lips and Andromeda’s eyes and Remus’s nose.
He only realizes Andromeda has re-entered the room when there’s the sound of a camera shutter, but he doesn’t mind his picture being taken for once. He’s going to have to get used to it, he thinks, because Teddy deserves pictures of his childhood, and Harry refuses to not be part of that childhood.
When he looks up at Andromeda, he hopes his newfound decisiveness is clear in his expression. He’ll do the therapy. He’ll make contracts. He’ll do everything he has to, and it’ll all be for this little boy he was entrusted with.
Judging by the smile that lightens her eyes, they’re both on the same page.