"Peis dinogat e vreith vreith.
o grwyn balaot ban wreith.
chwit chwit chwidogeith
gochanwn gochenyn wythgeith..."[1]

In a dark little nursery in the back of an old cottage, Nyphadora Tonks rocked by the window and nursed her infant son. As he suckled at her breast, she softly sang an ancient lullaby that had been passed down for generations on her father's side of the family.

Tiny Teddy Lupin didn't know that. He didn't know -- couldn't know -- that his father's shaking embrace a mere hour before had been full of desperation and fear. He didn't know that a battle was raging, somewhere in the mountains. He didn't know that his grandfather, his namesake, was already dead.

At less than a month old, Teddy knew very little at all. But he knew his mother. Her knew her voice, her scent. He knew that her arms were warm, that her milk was sweet, and that his stomach had begun to fill. He was content. The tuft of hair on his head shifted lazily through shades of peaceful blue.

Across the room, a door opened, spilling orange light. The soft singing tapered off. Teddy squirmed -- he'd liked the voice -- but he was too full and too sleepy to fuss. His mother slowed in her rocking, never lifting her eyes.

"I have to go Mum," she said, barely more than a whisper.

"Dora..."

"I have to. The Order needs me. Remus needs me."

"Your son needs you."

"He'll sleep through the night. He's a good sleeper, my Teddy boy."

Teddy's eyes began to droop. His lips went slack and the nipple slipped away as his mother tucked herself back in. He felt her breath as she brushed a kiss across his head.

"He'll be safe and sound here, dreaming away."

They rose then, the chair creaking as they stood. Ted fluttered his eyes and caught a glimpse of the shadowed figuring standing in the door. His grandmother. Her lips were pressed tight and she grasped her own hand as though afraid to let go.

"You would have gone for Dad," his mother said as she began to lower Teddy into his crib. "I know that. Even if you couldn't help him, couldn't save him...you would have gone."

His grandmother muffled a sniff. Ted kicked a bit as he was laid on his back, objecting to the loss of Mother's warmth and song. He grasped for her and caught one thin finger. His mother smiled at him and her hair changed blue to match his.

"I love you, Teddy," she whispered. "Mummy loves you so much."

Teddy, too small to smile, flashed his eyes a happy blue before they fluttered shut. He fell asleep and Mother slipped away for the last time.

1.	Some mood music. Especially useful to get the sound of Old Welsh.