You Are...

Summary: Teddy Lupin may not have parents, but his mum made sure he knew he was loved. Sort of connected to I Am.

For Teddy Lupin's eleventh birthday, his godfather and Ginny gave him a broomstick, Hagrid got him an owl, and his grandma gave him, among other things, an envolope.

He tore it open, expecting a card, and instead found a piece of paper, filled with handwriting that seemed almost familiar.

"Your mum wrote it." Andromeda told him quietly. "When she had you, she'd spend hours writing letters...in case she didn't make it."

"Oh." Teddy said, because he could think of nothing else. He looked down, saw a little number eleven in one corner of the letter.

"She told me and your dad to give you this on your eleventh birthday if she didn't...make it." Andromeda told him softly.

"Oh." Teddy said again. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the writing. He wasn't reading it, not properly, but staring at the words. His mum's words. Proof that she cared, that she was real. Her handwriting was messy, like his. Not unreadable, but untidy. His was like that.

"Are you going to read it?" Andromeda asked, and Teddy nodded. He waited until he heard her stand and leave the room, then began.

Dear Teddy,

First of all, happy birthday. As I write this, you're only four days old, so I can't imagine you being eleven, about to start Hogwarts. I know if you're reading this, I'm probably dead. Unless I'm not, and I just decided to give you this anyway. But for what I need to say, we'll assume I'm not alive, OK? I don't know how old you were when I died, but I'm going to pretend you were young, because that way I can say everything I have to say, without wondering if you've heard it before.

Anyway, that's not important. What is important, is that you know I love you. Maybe you don't remember me every saying that. I have. A lot. I tell you every morning, every night, and anytime in between that I feel like doing so. Because I'm scared, Teddy. I'm scared that I'm not going to make it through this, that you'll be alone. Maybe if I say it often, you'll somehow know that I love you, when you're older. But if you don't, you know it now, because I've written this to make sure you do. It's weird of me to be prepared. For anything. I'm one of those people who leave everything until the last possible minute, and yet here I am, all prepared to die.

I don't want to. I don't want to leave you, and not see you grow up.

I'll assume I died fighting Death Eaters, or Voldemort. So I want you to know, I did it for you. Your dad and I want a better world for you to grow up in, one where you're safe. I hope that we helped to give you that. I feel guilty, that I might leave you, but I had to. Please try to understand that, Ted. I had to go fight, because that's who I am.

I can't help wonder what you're like. Are you clumsy, like me? Serious, like your dad? Right now, as I'm writing this, you have purple hair. What colour is it while you're reading this?

It breaks my heart that I might never know. But I'm not trying to upset you, so I'll stop that kind of talk right now.

I just want you to be happy and safe. As long as you are, nothing else matters.

Dad's bathing you right now. I wont do it, I'm scared of dropping you. Do you know how dangerous baths can be? Tell you the truth, I'm always scared of dropping you. Or dropping something on you.

I never have though. Well, not so far. I'm really careful with you. I wouldn't risk you.

You are everything to me, Teddy. You are the most important thing to me in the world.

Just don't ever forget that I love you, little man. I know you'll be OK.

Teddy read it through twice, then traced a fingertip over the word "mum" at the bottom of the page. It was...amazing. Truly amazing for him. He wasn't crying, although there was a lump in his throat threatenting to choke him.

His mum had been scared of dying and leaving him. She hadn't wanted to go, but she'd had to fight. His mum had loved him.

He read the last line again; I know you'll be OK.

Maybe it was stupid, but he believed her.