The near sob had Harry stop worrying about reporters or photographers or really anyone but Teddy at that , and he reached out and wrapped his arms around the man he'd raised as if he was one of his own. "You don't have to be strong around me," he whispered quietly. "I'm here to pick up the pieces. Always."
He hated seeing any of his children hurting, always had. For so long his dream had been his family. To love his children. To give them a good home. To never make them feel as if they were less than loved, less than special. To protect them from everything that was out there, be it Dark Wizards or criminals or reporters. He'd failed. In so many ways he'd failed. James was being targeted by Voldemort, and forced to grow up much sooner than he should have. Albus must have been having difficulties for so long and he had failed to notice that something was seriously wrong with his son. That he needed help. Help he was now refusing. Lily was gone, missing, possessed and going through god only knew what.
But at least he could be there for Teddy. Now. Here. And right now maybe that would have to be enough or he'd fall apart himself.