The pain was brief. Teddy snatched his back the moment it registered — a bright spark fading into a dull pulse as the edges of his new cut rippled. He could heal it, push the wound further down and smooth the skin over the top of it until it healed away from the surface.
But instead, he sighed, cramming his finger into his mouth, cheeks hollowing. Iron coated his tongue as he raised himself up onto his toes, floorboards creaking beneath him as he pulled the small pack of plasters from a cupboard.
There was a chill in the air, goosebumps rising on his arms as he wrapped the cut.
"Let's try this again, shall we?" he muttered, a wry grin on his face as he returned to the drawer, watching what he was doing this time, and emerged with the small tea infuser.
The lea leaves were dark, a few clinging to his fingers as Teddy tipped a heaping tablespoon into the small metal ball. With it came the scent of cranberries, a tart sweetness that Teddy could never fully decide if he liked or not, forever walking that boundary line like a tightrope; and the scent of black tea, earthy and strong. He added a heaping tablespoon of sugar to his own cup and waited for the kettle to boil.
His thoughts were slow and scattered — the product of a late night in the biting cold — and he bit back a yawn, shoulders straining as he muffled the sound.
"Nearly ready?"
"Yes, Grandma!" Teddy called back over the kiss of the kettle, scuffing at the floor with one socked foot and frowning at the marks on the scuffed countertop before quickly finishing making the drinks.
He carefully picked his way back into the sitting room, a wall of heat greeting him from the roaring fire, and he kicked the door shut behind him. A shiver ran down his spine, feeling his hair flicker and change with the motion, freckles erupting across his face and arms like fireworks, before he settled once more.
"You are your mother's son."
Teddy held his breath as he placed the other cup down — the faint clink of the edge of the cup hitting the saucer was followed by a sigh and grin — before he settled easily down onto the other chair, drawing his feet up.
Grandma Andromedea tilted her head to one side as she considered the cup. It was a blur to her. Teddy knew this just as well as she did, but the concept of glasses was only met with a derisive snort.
"You could have stayed at the Weasley's for the morning," she told him, as if Teddy couldn't remember the several other times they had held this conversation.
"I know," Teddy told her, sipping at his tea, just to watch her mouth thin at the sound, laughter bubbling up in his chest. "But this is our tradition. I like it."
They would go to the Weasley's house later, when the presents had been opened and the arguments quelled.
She picked up her cup and took a careful sip, sighing as she did so.
"Merry Christmas, Teddy."
"Merry Christmas, Grandma."