Effervescent: High-spirited; vivacious; lively.

December 3, 2002

Even on Andromeda's porch, pressed up so close to the door he was in danger of toppling through when it opened, sleet whipped against Harry's neck and blew down his collar. He stamped his feet as he waited to be let in, teeth chattering. Even the weather was bleak. It seemed to know he wasn't particularly in the holiday spirit. A ream of retrial requests had finally worked their way through the system, which meant that Harry had to carefully comb through all the details of Death Eater escapades, remaking decisions that had been some of the toughest of his life, and defending himself at every turn to the general and political public alike. Ron and Hermione had had a massive blow-out last month and were going on their second week of refusing to speak to one another, which meant that whether he was diving through the archives with Ron or researching potential legal loopholes with Hermione, all he heard was grinding teeth, short replies, and the occasional biting remark toward the other. And on top of this hellish combination at work, the Harpies had won the last round of semifinals, which meant they were off to train in Ireland for the next round, and every evening Harry came home to an empty, drafty cottage to go over files and files of war crimes alone. So it was fitting that it was sleet rather than snow, really.

The door flew open and Andromeda ushered him inside, tsking at the tattered traveling cloak Harry had yet to replace despite hers and Molly's numerous chidings. But the very last thing he wanted to do to fill up his lonely evening hours was venture into packed store where crowds could gape at him if they were polite and demand with unwarranted abrasiveness to know why such-and-such a Death Eater affiliate was being let go if they were not polite.

"You're going to be bedridden with pneumonia if you keep wearing that thing," Andromeda warned, watching Harry stomp his boots dry on the mat.

Well, if she didn't take ten minutes to open her bloody door, he wouldn't, but Harry bit back the retort because somewhere he knew it wasn't Andromeda he was upset with. He was actually rather glad to have something to do in the evening that wasn't work related or listening to Ron or Hermione rant, even if it would mostly be helping Andromeda with housework; Teddy had had a nasty bought of bronchitis all week and Harry didn't know if he would even be awake during his visit.

"How's the kid?" he asked instead, glancing anxiously toward the stairs.

Andromeda sighed, looking mildly exasperated, but before she could say a word, a door banged open on the second floor and a small, pajama-clad figure shot out onto the landing.

"Harry!" Teddy squealed shrilly and fairly flew down the stairs. Harry barely had time to open his arms before the little boy threw himself at him. "It's snowing!" Teddy declared in a voice so horse and raspy it made Harry wince. "Look out the window! Did you see? Go and look!"

He strained in Harry's arms for the curtained kitchen window even as a fit of deep, chest-aching coughs shook through him.

"Easy there, little man," Harry said, rubbing his back and shifting him in his arms to look worriedly at Andromeda. She just shook her head and threw up her hands.

"He's got a temperature of 38.8 and hasn't been able to breathe properly since Monday, but I'd have to tie him to the bedpost to keep him under the blankets."

"It's boring not moving at all," Teddy complained, sniffling thickly and wiping his nose on his sleeve, reaching toward the window with his other hand.

His cheeks were flushed, his lips chapped, his hair matted to his brow, and every time he swallowed, he winced and gagged a little bit, but as he leaned out of Harry's arms to press his face against the chilly glass, his eyes still danced with excitement.

"We can make snow forts and go sliding and have Christmas soon!" he cried, and wriggled a little, whipping around suddenly to squeeze his arms and legs around Harry from the enthusiasm.

And Harry found himself laughing in spite of himself. "You bet we will. But only," he added as Teddy wheezed in a breath and started coughing again, "if you get well. Let's listen to Gran, shall we?"

He pressed a kiss to Teddy's hot cheek and headed for the sofa with a nod of approval from Andromeda, marveling at how a four-year-old running a fever and coughing up a lung was the one cheering him up.

A/N: It has been… eek! Way too long since I've posted. But I'm still here, plugging away now that I've survived finals. I hope you lot are still out there, too!