Title: Truly Madly Deeply
Song: “Truly Madly Deeply” by Cascada.
Warnings: excessive use of song lyrics, fluff, Bulgarian accents
I’ll be your dream /I’ll be your wish / I’ll be your fantasy / I’ll be your hope / I’ll be your love / Be everything that you need. / I love you more with every breath / Truly, madly, deeply, do.
If Harry hadn’t known it before, he was now certain that he had somehow managed to lose his mind. Between defeating Voldemort, falling asleep in Gryffindor Tower after the Battle at Hogwarts, and waking up to see Ginny sitting there staring at him with an intensity that could only be described as having stalker potential, all reason had flown out the window. And that had been ten years ago. Now this — this — was just the cherry on the cake, as the Muggles would say.
According to many, most notably Ronald Weasley, it had all gone to shit during those hours. He claimed the stress of casting an Expelliarmus at Voldemort must have sent Harry over the edge.
Harry thought Ron was clearly a little more than unbalanced.
He had awakened all those years ago, still covered in dust, with a sense of the proverbial weight lifting off his shoulders. The albatross around his neck had taken flight, and now the only obstacle standing between him and the rest of his life was a pretty girl with red hair and brown eyes.
That’s when he knew — as soon as he saw her there in the Great Hall. She was no longer what he wanted, what he needed. Too much was different. He had changed, and she was just a little girl in his eyes. He wanted something else, something more . . . someone he had always desired in the back of his mind, although he wouldn’t let himself admit it.
Of course, there had been the inevitable blow up when Ginny had tried to get close to him again a few months later at the Burrow.
He had been sitting in the living room, staring at the fire, and was trying to work up a tolerance to Firewhisky. In retrospect, that hadn’t been the most sensible goal to have, but Harry would be damned if he completed his Auror training without being able to knock back a few with the guys. And the sooner he could do it, the better. Ron, of course, had joined in on this adventure much to Hermione’s displeasure, but on the night before his eighteenth birthday, neither of them could be found.
No, Harry was alone, on his third tumbler, trying to figure out why he couldn’t see without his glasses on.
Alcohol just made him so intelligent.
Harry wasn’t quite certain how it happened, but suddenly his glass had fallen on the floor and he had a lapful of a giggling redhead in his arms. It was, perhaps, not the smoothest seduction the youngest Weasley could have enacted. She had thought that with a quiet house and her ex-boyfriend unwinding with lowered inhibitions, everything would just pick up where they had left off. In her romantic and childish mind, she had imagined kissing him, him kissing her, her kissing his neck, him flipping her over on the couch, him reaching for her breasts, her pulling at his trousers, romantic dates, a proposal, a large wedding where everyone could see her, and oh, oh, oh, god, oh god, oh, yes, Harry!
What she hadn’t factored into her plan was that a tipsy Harry with lowered inhibitions might just, in fact, not want her to kiss him and get her perfect fantasy life rolling.
Harry had barely managed to make it off the couch with his dignity intact, when she had pouted at him. Of course, what Harry didn’t realize was that Bill and Fleur had walked in to witness the single most humiliating encounter in young Harry’s sexual life.
“Ginny!” he had squeaked indignantly, grabbing his glasses from a little table where they had mysteriously reappeared. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Losing my virginity,” she purred and all Harry could do was try not to gag.
Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly with his eyes scrunched closed. “Ginny, we’re not together anymore,” he tried to explain with thoughts of the one person he could never have floating in his mind’s eye.
“But that’s only because of the war,” she had insisted. “Now the war is over, there’s nothing to stand in our way.”
He couldn’t help but sigh at her logic. At one time, when he was too scared that his life would end before he finished Hogwarts, he might have agreed with her. Now, he just . . . couldn’t. He had never wanted her . . . not really. She had been safe, his best friend’s little sister, his ticket into the family he had always wanted but was never quite his.
“Don’t you want me?” she had purred.
He had simply looked at her incredulously before answering in his semi-drunken state, “No.”
Of course, all hell had broken loose. Ginny had started crying, Fleur had run to her and enveloped her in a hug, and by the next morning, everyone knew what had happened. No one seemed to care that Ginny had tried to take advantage of Harry when he was drunk, or that Harry had a right to turn her down. They just saw that Harry was rejecting the girl they had all hoped he would marry. Ron had been flabbergasted by the entire situation.
So on his birthday he found himself moving into a deserted Grimmauld Place, deciding that he was never going to drink Firewhisky again.
Within a month, he gained custody of his godson, Teddy, and began to make number twelve, Grimmauld Place habitable. He had decided to offer Winky a new family to take care of, and by the time Christmas had rolled around, Harry and Teddy’s home was not only habitable, but rather comfortable — if not a little dark.
I will be strong / I will be faithful / ‘Cause I am counting on a new beginning / A reason for living / A deeper meaning, yeah
Ten years ago, Harry mused as he sat in the Muggle restaurant, waiting for his guests to arrive. He asked himself again why he was doing this. Oh, yeah, now he remembered.
Clearly, he had lost his mind to agree to this.
Ten years he’d had Teddy, his son, Teddy who had inadvertently brought the man he’d always loved back into his life. He couldn’t believe that he had let Ron talk him into going to yet another Quidditch World Cup, what with the Death Eater incident the summer before their fourth year.
Ron had been standoffish, at best, since Harry’s rather public refusal of Ginny’s . . . er . . . of Ginny. He had warmed up a bit when Harry would bring Teddy around Hermione’s London flat (sadly, Harry was never welcomed at the Burrow after “the incident” so Teddy would most likely never know Harry’s adopted family well).
Of course, that had all changed when Harry had mentioned to Hermione, who then turned around and mentioned to Ron a few days later, that he had been offered prime tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. He was a little wary of going, especially as it was being hosted in Luxembourg of all places. Teddy was only five, but was already a rabid Quidditch fan, probably because Harry liked taking him flying on Sunday afternoons before having a family picnic. He wasn’t quite certain if it would be safe and had nearly decided not to go.
Then his childhood best friend had arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place and talked him into it, saying it would be a crime to deny Teddy such an experience. He even offered to come as an unofficial helping hand. Eventually, Ron wore down his defenses and managed to get a free ride to the Quidditch World Cup with his ex-best mate and Teddy.
The match between Bulgaria and Egypt had been brilliant, of course, with Krum catching the Snitch and winning the game. He couldn’t help but feel a little wistful as he watched the Bulgarian seeker — the man he had dreamed of for so many years ever since the former Triwizard Champion had confronted him over the rumor that he was dating Hermione. Teddy had been overly excited, and with grins plastered on all of their faces, the trio made it back to their tent.
What he hadn’t counted on was falling asleep during Teddy’s afternoon nap, a languid smile on his face as he sleepily thought that the years had only improved the duck-footed Bulgarian.
Harry also hadn’t expected Ron to take Teddy out into the campsite while he was dreaming off his adrenaline high. In another life, before he had adopted Teddy, Harry would have had few qualms with Ron nipping out with his child. Ron had been his first friend, his best mate, and before the summer of their new lives without Voldemort, Harry would have trusted him with his life.
Now, however, he couldn’t be more worried.
What was the oaf thinking?
Unfortunately, Harry found out far too soon. Not noticing the identity of the man Ron was speaking with, Harry rushed up and grabbed his son from Ron, who was completely ignoring him. “What the hell were you thinking?” he seethed at the redhead, and passing onlookers stopped to stare at the famous war hero and the child in his arms.
“Just having a friendly chat with Teddy,” Ron responded with a stupid grin on his face that only made Harry’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “No harm done.”
“No harm done? You took my son out of our tent without my permission. What was so important that you couldn’t wake me up?” His voice was deadly quiet, and he stopped when he noticed that Teddy was silently crying. The little boy’s eyes were already puffy from tears that had fallen. Bending over, he looked into his son’s currently blue eyes. “Teddy, dear, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Ron said far too casually. Having nieces and nephews himself, Harry was surprised he could be so callous.
Harry glanced toward his ex-mate’s companion and his eyes widened when he saw a concerned Viktor Krum looking back at him.
Viktor, his mind said. Oh gods.
“What’s wrong, Moonlet?” he asked his child gently.
“Ron says I’m not your son, and that when you marry Ginny you’ll only keep me if I’m nice.”
Anger flared through Harry, but he quashed it down as he took the sobbing child into his arms. “Hush, Teddy. No matter what anyone says, you are my son. My only son. Yes, you are a Lupin, but you are also a Potter and a Black. I would never marry anyone who needs to try to threaten or coerce you into ‘being nice’.”
“Really?” Teddy’s small voice asked as he grasped tightly onto his father’s robes.
“Really, really,” was Harry’s only response. After a few minutes, Teddy quieted down and Harry glanced up at Ron’s astonished face. “How dare you?” he accused quietly, as his son had fallen asleep in his arms. “I broke up with Ginny before Teddy was even born. Good God, what were you thinking? Is this why you talked me into coming to the match? So you could sneak off with my child and terrify and manipulate him? Don’t ever take my son anywhere again or threaten him, do you understand me? And don’t even think of coming back to the tent tonight or to Grimmauld Place, for that matter, in the future. I’ll Floo your things home to you tomorrow.”
“Really, mate, you’re overreacting,” Ron said, his face turning red.
Harry only glared, before glancing at Teddy’s sleeping form. “You go near my son ever again and I’ll make what I did to Voldemort look like a walk in the park compared to what I’ll do to you.”
Ron stood there, stunned, and blinked.
“Harry–” he began again.
“Valk avay,” a deep voice grumbled to Harry’s left and the two English wizards looked over, startled. Viktor was standing there, ominous and glaring at Ron.
“I said,” Viktor enunciated, “valk avay before I am cursing you myself. Vizard children are a gift and you do not deserve title off vizard. Valk avay.”
Stumbling backward, Ron shot a quick glare at Viktor and Harry and, muttering to himself, walked through the astonished crowd.
Teddy, in his sleep, tightened his arms around his father’s neck and Harry couldn’t help but smile at him.
“Thank you, Viktor,” he said as he ran a hand through Teddy’s hair, which had turned blue during his sleep.
Viktor smiled. “Your son is very beautiful and brave. I saw Veasel talking to him and came over to stop it. I thought my fame might be off use for vonce.”
Harry could only smile again, noticing Viktor’s strong though rounded shoulders and his distinguished face peering owlishly at the pair.
“Thank you again, and I’m sorry you had to see that.” He sighed. “I thought that argument had been concluded three years ago. I’m sorry to ask, but is there anyway I could get your autograph for Teddy? I know you must hate that kind of thing, I mean I do, not that I’m a great Quidditch player like you, but . . . a-anyway, it would make Teddy’s day, and . . .” Harry drifted off when he realized that he was not only rambling in embarrassment, but blushing as well.
“Of course,” Viktor said. “How could I not for the son of the Harry Potter?”
Harry stared at him, stunned, when he realized that Viktor was teasing him. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Silence reigned and Harry quickly took his eyes off Viktor when he noticed he was still staring.
“Vhy don’t you come to my tent and I’ll get a picture for you?” Viktor suggested as he gestured toward a nearby tent.
“Are you sure it won’t be a problem?” Harry asked hesitantly.
“If I am not vanting you there, I vould not ask.”
And with those words, Viktor walked quietly into his life, and Harry had never wanted him to leave ever again.
I wanna stand with you on a mountain / I wanna bathe with you in the sea / I wanna lay like this forever / Until the sky falls down on me
Harry hadn’t been quite certain how it happened. One moment Viktor was signing a large poster he had scrounged up for Teddy, who was currently asleep amongst luxurious pillows on the floor, and the next rough calloused fingers were carding through his hair.
Harry closed his eyes in bliss, just feeling in the dim light of dusk and candles.
The hand pulled away and Harry opened his eyes to look into dark eyes, so full of emotion that it almost frightened him. “I haff vanted to do that since Fleur’s vedding,” Viktor confessed.
Harry looked away. “I never knew.”
“Yes,” Viktor conceded. “You vere so young vith too much on your shoulders. And that little girl vas following you and telling her friends you vould vone day marry.”
Harry hissed in exasperation.
“This same girl that Veasel mentioned.”
Harry nodded in confirmation. “His younger sister.”
“You dated her, yes?”
Viktor’s eyes pierced him and Harry understood the unspoken invitation. Viktor would be there, just to listen, without judgment, to whatever Harry needed to say. And in that moment Harry understood that he could truly love this man, who wanted him but would take nothing that was not freely given.
Harry told him. He spoke of being an orphan and always wanting a family, of his friendship with Ron and through him the Weasleys, of how just before the end of the war, he craved affection so deeply he had latched onto Ginny and everything she represented – family, friendship, hope, the mother who had died for him. He related the breakup, skimming over the last year before the Final Battle and Ginny’s ill-advised seduction. His voiced was laced with hopelessness.
And then he spoke of the little boy who was his godson and his eyes lit up. The little Metamorphmagus had wormed his way into Harry’s broken heart and had never left it. At first, Harry was uncertain of raising a child on his own. He was only just eighteen himself, and although he had a decent income from interest on his Gringotts vaults, he knew nothing of being a father, of loving, of what a child would need. Andromeda had been able to care for Teddy, but Remus’s Will had stated that he wanted Harry to be his only child’s guardian when the war was over, if he was willing. The Prongslet and the Moonlet, he had added as a side note: the last of the Marauders.
For the first few months, he had tried to juggle Auror training with his new duties as a father, but he found himself wanting to devote all of his energy to the child who was now his world. He didn’t need the money and had realized that he, in fact, hadn’t wanted to fight anymore. He wanted peace — a family — to love Teddy as he deserved to be loved. Spending long hours away from him was unacceptable and nearly as neglectful as locking up a child in a cupboard, although certainly not has malicious.
Teddy. Everything now was for Teddy.
With those words and a soft smile, Harry came out of his trance and glanced at Viktor, whose eyes shone with the beginning of everything Harry had ever truly wanted: love, hope, understanding, and most of all, not a glimmer of hero worship or pity. Harry had softly kissed him, knowing that one day, hopefully, Teddy would have the complete life Harry had always dreamed of as a little boy.
And when the stars are shining brightly in the velvet sky / I’ll make a wish send it to heaven / That’ll make you wanna cry / The tears of joy for all the pleasure and the certainty / That we’re surrounded by the comfort and protection / Of the highest power and lonely hours / The tears devour you
Now, all of these years later, every dream Harry had ever had was coming true. All that stood between him and complete happiness was the dinner that would take place in this Muggle restaurant. How fitting, Harry mused, that his “old” life would end just where it had started – in the Muggle world
He still wondered how his fiancé had talked him into this entire situation. In Harry’s opinion, this entire scheme was just proof that Viktor had taken one too many Bludgers to the head during his international career.
Of course, Harry understood the reason behind this dinner. He really did. He’d read all of the pureblood etiquette books he could get his hands on once Viktor had wanted to take him as his date to a charity event. “I vant to tell the vorld that I luff you and you are mine,” he had whispered one night into Harry’s ear, finally back from a Quidditch tour. The fire at Grimmauld Place had reflected off the white walls etched with royal purple, and Harry was happily snuggling into his boyfriend of a year’s side, Teddy safely asleep in his room that still held the moving poster of Viktor Krum.
Over the previous twelve months, they had remained in Harry’s home or Viktor’s flat in Bulgaria, creating a trusting relationship that would support Teddy for the rest of his childhood, making them into a family. Every month or so, Harry and Viktor would have Neville babysit little Teddy and would quietly slip off into the Muggle world where neither of the celebrities could be recognized, neither one wanting the publicity their romance would cause.
As soon as Viktor had proposed, it was only a matter of time before Viktor gently insisted that he ask Harry’s “guardians” for permission to marry him. It was purely a formality, but it was an established tradition that stated Viktor was not ashamed of him and would go through all forms of social politeness in order to wed him.
As both were financially independent, they didn’t need an affirmative answer.
Harry thanked the Muggle God for that, knowing just how vindictive his aunt and uncle could be – especially if they knew that Harry wanted something.
Harry would do anything for Viktor — even face his horrible relatives. This was for Viktor, he reminded himself. And, more importantly, this was for his son, Teddy Lupin-Potter.
When Harry had legally adopted his godson ten years earlier, he had known it was for life. No matter what the future might bring, who he might marry or be with, whatever children he might have, Teddy was his son and heir. He would give Teddy everything he had never had, and if it included going through the proper courtship rituals with “Uncle Vik,” then he would gladly do it – although it had taken three years since they were both independent heads of their families and there was a child involved.
Even if it meant being insulted for an entire evening.
He looked up to see his aunt and uncle slowly making their way through the restaurant, clearly disgruntled that Harry could afford such a nice venue. Harry stood, and attempted to smile politely as he watched his whale of an uncle attempt to sit in a chair that was four sizes too small for him.
“Boy,” his aunt greeted as she attempted to seat herself regally.
As they settled down, Harry ordered a bottle of champagne, thinking he and Viktor might as well get a little buzzed so they could survive the horrible ordeal.
“Who’s the extra seat for?” his uncle snapped, his face turning an ugly shade of puce as he perused the menu. Despite his anger, his eyes looked greedy as he read the various options.
“Viktor Krum,” Harry said as he fiddled with his napkin. “He’s an international sports player. I think he’s the highest paid in the world on image rights alone.”
“Is he one of your kind?” Vernon asked, distaste lacing his voice.
“Oh, you mean wealthy and famous? Yes, yes, he is.” Harry could barely contain the grin on his face, so he chose to hide it behind his menu.
“Did you say wealthy and famous?” Petunia’s eyes bugged out.
“I do believe so, yes.” His eyes scanned the choices leisurely and he briefly wondered if he wanted the overpriced steak pie or the cod.
“Since when, boy?”
“The night my parents died. The scar made me famous, and my father was the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter.”
“What are you trying to tell us, then?” Petunia asked huffily.
Harry mused that neither his uncle nor his aunt were looking at the menu, as they were now blatantly staring at him.
“Nothing. Just that Viktor is rich and famous. And Bulgarian.”
“Ah, foreign,” his uncle spat the word as if it was the worst insult.
Harry sighed. He supposed he would never win with them.
Putting her menu down, Petunia looked at him in the eye. “So what do you want, boy?”
Harry paused, wondering if he should wait for Viktor to arrive. He cleared his throat, and blushed slightly. “It’s a tradition among certain strata in society to – well – I don’t understand the need since I’m the head of two ancient houses, but Viktor wants to remain within the bounds of tradition, and . . .”
He trailed off, glancing toward the door, where Viktor was now entering. Harry sighed in relief. Viktor looked immaculate in the Muggle suit Harry had picked out for him, black with white pinstripes and a wizard button down shirt that negated the need for a tie. Although he wasn’t at the height of Muggle fashion, he certainly was in vogue for casual pureblood society.
Harry stood and smiled brightly at his fiancé. “Viktor,” he breathed, “how was the practice match?”
“Ve von. No contest.” He smirked before turning to Harry’s relatives. “Introduce me, Harry.”
“Viktor, my aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon Dursley. This is Viktor Krum, as I mentioned earlier.”
“A pleasure,” Petunia simpered, likely wondering what such a well-dressed and sophisticated-looking normal person would want to do with her freak of a nephew.
Vernon bobbed his head.
“Did you tell them?” Viktor inquired, not bothering to look at the menu.
“I was trying to, but I wasn’t quite certain how.”
The waiter came up and Vernon gruffly ordered, while Viktor slipped his hand under the table to squeeze Harry’s thigh reassuringly. Harry looked up and couldn’t help but smile. It would be all right, he told himself, now that Viktor was there.
When the waiter finally left, Viktor looked sternly at Vernon. “This is merely a – how do you say – a formality. As Harry is Lord Potter-Black and the head of two very important families in your country, it is nothing more, but I vish to satisfy all points of tradition for Teddy’s sake.”
“Who’s Teddy?” Petunia inquired as she batted her eyelashes at Viktor.
“My godson,” Harry answered quickly, not wanting to be accused of having a child out of wedlock by his uncle who would take any excuse to put him down. “He’s an orphan like I was.”
“A freak, I assume,” Vernon mumbled.
“He’s well-loved,” was the only answer Harry would give. Viktor’s face was set in strong lines of disapproval, but they didn’t want to get into an argument. They would be pleasant, hopefully get what they wanted, and then they would walk away to a happy Teddy who would be going off to Hogwarts in a few short months.
“What tradition is this then?” Petunia inquired, her long neck making her resemblance to a horse even more striking in the candlelight.
Viktor smiled slightly and appeared to choose his words carefully. “I vish for the House of Krum and the House of Potter to be joined in marriage. I represent the Krum family, and all that I haff need of is your consent.”
“You’re getting married, boy?” Vernon asked, beady eyes narrowing.
“I should varn you,” Viktor broke in, “that the House of Krum is very vealthy and powerful. Ve can make your life hell if you do not just agree.” He stared openly at the whale of a man opposite him.
Petunia looked startled. “Who would want to marry the boy? Dudley, our son, Mr. Krum–” Harry cringed as she simpered at his fiancé “–is a fine young man and so normal, just what every girl needs.”
“The marriage is done, Madam Dursley,” Viktor said, his hand pressed firmly to Harry’s thigh in both comfort and support. “Ve need only an answer. Yes or no.”
“Well,” she hedged and Harry sighed.
“Who is this filly, anyway?” Vernon inquired, taking in Viktor’s form, likely wondering what a female relation would look like.
Both Harry and Viktor ignored the question.
“You see, Mr. Krum, our nephew isn’t exactly respectable, however wealthy he is,” Petunia said.
With a sinking feeling, Harry knew the entire evening had been a mistake – just as he’d thought it would be.
“He’s not normal. My sister and her husband were – well – one doesn’t mention it in polite society.” She drew herself up and Harry wanted to sink into the floor.
The bread arrived and silence hung over the table.
Vernon smirked, probably thinking they had won. “Now Dudley–“
“Is a Muggle and has no magical blood,” Viktor said in a deadly soft voice.
Harry’s mouth hung open in shock. He knew Viktor didn’t care about such things – he had dated Hermione briefly when they were both still in school, after all – but he never would have guessed that Viktor would pull that tactic. Over the years, Harry had told him everything he remembered of his childhood, and it appeared that his cunning fiancé was putting the knowledge to use.
A server came with the champagne and before she could open it, Viktor took it and handed it to Harry. Opening his Muggle wallet, he withdrew the price of the alcohol and his and Harry’s – and only his and Harry’s – uneaten meals. “For myself and my fiancé. Our guests vill be paying for themselves.”
Harry quickly got up, following Viktor’s lead. “No, then?” he inquired of the shell-shocked Dursleys.
“Now see here, you freak–” Vernon began.
“You and Muggles like you disgust me,” Viktor said simply and, handing the waitress a generous tip for remaining silent and not putting up a fuss, he took Harry’s hand and they walked out the door.
I wanna stand with you on a mountain / I wanna bathe with you in the sea / I wanna lay like this forever / Until the sky falls down on me
Harry laughed, delighted, as Viktor lifted him onto a wall in a quiet London park. “I can’t believe you did that, Viktor,” he said with a smile.
“They vere being obtuse,” his fiancé responded, popping open the bottle of champagne. Looking about before conjuring two goblets, he poured the shimmering liquid and toasted his love, “To happiness and a vorld vhere Teddy and you vill never know such cruelty ever again.”
“I love you,” Harry murmured against Viktor’s lips after they had consumed half of the champagne.
“I luff you too, my Harry,” Viktor moaned and, in the bliss of the moment and with the knowledge that the Muggle world was now asleep around them, the two made languorous love, promising each other a never-ending future of love and acceptance.
Oh, can’t you see it, baby? / Don’t have to close your eyes /’Cause it’s standing right before you /All that you need will surely come
Teddy Potter-Krum rushed through the steam on platform nine and three-quarters, his blond hair alerting his fathers to his presence as they followed closely behind him.
Teddy had served as the sole witness to their marriage three months earlier. After they returned from their brief “pre-honeymoon” of three nights away in a cottage in Wales as Harry called it, he had crawled into bed with his daddy and his new papa and asked that they change his surname so he would be his papa’s son, too.
Harry had smiled sadly, thinking of his professor, but with a glance at a beaming Viktor, he had agreed.
Teddy had never referred to his birth parents as such, no matter what Harry had said, and soon Harry had gotten in the habit of calling them “Remus” and “Tonks” in his son’s presence. He should have seen it coming, he knew, and he was truly glad that his husband was beloved by his son despite the lingering sadness that Lupin’s son would no longer bear his name.
“Daddy! Papa!” Teddy called out, “I need to board the train!”
Viktor smirked at Harry, his free arm slipping around his husband’s waist. “Vere you ever like this as a child?”
“Not quite,” Harry responded, right hand occupied carrying Teddy’s new owl, Quaffle. Of all the names Teddy could have chosen, he thought happily.
As they gave their final hugs to their son, the excited Metamorphmagus hopped on the train along with other young witches and wizards. “Write to me,” Teddy called, his eyes shifting to an odd bubblegum pink that reminded Harry of Tonks’s hair.
“Of course.” Harry smiled.
With a final whistle, the train pulled away and Harry turned into Viktor’s arms.
“Vot vill you do now that you don’t haff Teddy as your job?” Viktor inquired.
“I don’t know,” Harry replied honestly. He hadn’t given it much thought, as he’d gotten so used to being at home with his son.
Viktor smiled fondly down on him.
“Ten Galleons that he’s a Hufflepuff,” Harry said, eyes sparkling teasingly.
“No, Gryffindor. He’s just like you.”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh, drawing the attention of the lingering parents toward him, but he didn’t notice, and if he had, he wouldn’t have cared. He had everything he had ever wanted.
Everything Voldemort had tried to take away from him. And that was worth more than all the Galleons in all the vaults in Gringotts.
I’ll be your dream /I’ll be your wish / I’ll be your fantasy / I’ll be your hope / I’ll be your love / Be everything that you need / I love you more with every breath /Truly, madly, deeply, do.