teddy lupin turned 17 this year. his parents never got to celebrate his coming of age. because they died today. they died 17 years ago. 

but he has harry, who knows better than anyone how that feels. so on the morning of teddy’s 17th birthday, harry asks him if he’d rather want a new watch or an old one. teddy smiles, remembers how fond harry is of fabian prewett’s battered old watch. how much it means to him. “old,” teddy says. 

the watch used to belong to sirius, harry tells him. but it has a bit of tonks and remus added to it: a wolf engraved on the back, and harry charmed it to change colours according to teddy’s mood. “just like you and your mum.” 

teddy’s hair flushes the same shade of bright bubblegum pink the watch has become. “thank you,” he says wetly, coughing back tears as he hugs harry tight. 

teddy lupin and harry potter never got to celebrate their seventeenth birthdays with their parents. but they like to think their parents had their own parties, watching over them like they always have.