It's freezing outside, but I don't mind. The cold air is welcome on my face after the cramped warmth of the house.
Sitting on the front porch of the Burrow, all I can see for miles around is snow. It blankets the yard, the chicken coop, and the old shed where the Weasleys keep their brooms and Uncle Arthur keeps his Muggle things. He's got loads of interesting stuff, he always shows it to me when I come round.
At Christmas though, he's too busy helping his wife, Aunt Molly, in the kitchen and keeping his many grandkids entertained, telling them stories of their parents and his schooldays. Usually I'd be in the living room with everyone else, crowded around him, listening in. He hasn't got many stories of my parents. All the kids inside - they're all Weasley grandchildren. Their dads are Weasleys, or their mum, in the Potters' case.
There aren't any other Lupins, not inside, not anywhere. I'm the only one.
My gran's there, she always is. She stands to the side, smiling kindly at the kids and talking quietly to people who approach her first. She's not a Lupin, she's a Tonks. My mum was her daughter. But she doesn't seem to mind.
I don't usually.
At Christmas it's just a bit harder, you know? When you're surrounded by people with parents and brothers and sisters. It's just that little bit harder to accept that you - you don't have any.
Great. Furiously, I swipe at my eyes with my sleeve. Christmas, and I'm out here crying like a big baby, not a thirteen-year old wizard.
The door creaks behind me, and I turn quickly, ready to leap to my feet and say that I was just getting a bit of fresh air -
"Hey," says Harry, sitting down beside me. He doesn't seem to care that the step is covered in snow. "I've been looking for you."
I didn't think anyone would notice that I was gone.
"Hmm," I say intelligently, sniffing and hoping he doesn't notice. I don't want Harry to see that I've been crying. He's an Auror, he's the toughest wizard I know - the toughest wizard everyone knows. He saved the world, for crying out loud.
And he's my godfather.
"Bit cold out here, isn't it?" Harry comments. He's not looking at me, to my relief; he's looking out at the snow-covered yard.
"Bit," I mumble, picking at my sleeve. "I can handle it."
"Can you handle your gran and Molly's fussing when you've caught a cold, though?" Harry teases. He turns and gives me a quick grin, and I can't help returning it.
"Probably not."
"No, didn't think so."
He's silent for a few moments after that, looking at his hands, twisting his wedding ring on his finger. Harry isn't a Weasley, either, he just married one. But before he married Ginny, he was the only Potter ...
"It's just - I just needed a minute," I say slowly. Harry still isn't looking at me, something I'm grateful for, because my nose is prickling again. "A minute to - to think about ... stuff. About," I swallow, "about my mum and dad."
I glance at Harry again. He's rubbing the bridge of his nose, and I notice that his hand is trembling a bit.
"You knew them, didn't you," I say quietly.
"I did," says Harry, his voice hoarse. "They were really great people ... and I know - I know - that they would have loved to have known you. But I also know that they wanted you to have as good a life as you could. They loved you that much, Teddy."
Finally, I meet his eyes. They're bright, too bright, but he's smiling weakly.
"How did you do it?" I whisper. "How did you do everything without your parents? How can you spend all that time with the Weasleys when they've - when they've got a family and you don't?"
"But I do have a family," says Harry. "And so do you, Teddy. It doesn't matter that they might not be blood relations. Apart from James, Al and Lily, my aunt is my only blood relative, and I'd much, much rather be with any of the Weasleys than with her. These sorts of things - they only matter if you let them matter."
He plucks at his jumper, and gestures to mine.
"Weasley jumpers," he says. "I got my first one when I was eleven. It was the first proper Christmas present I ever got. These jumpers, Ted - they mean you're family."
He claps me on the shoulder and gets to his feet.
"See if you feel like coming inside and warming up a bit. Molly really will have my head if she knows I've let you stay out here for too long."
Funnily enough, I do feel like going inside now. In fact - I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be. Why would I want to stay out here on my own, when I've got my whole family inside?
"And I think Victoire was looking for you," Harry says, pausing at the doorway, and all of a sudden I can't feel the cold at all as heat rushes from my ears to my toes.
Urgh. I really wanted to post something Christmassy, despite the fact that I don't feel Christmassy at all. But I couldn't think of anything. And when I could, it was - well, it was this. Hmmph. I'll try and come up with something better soon.