Fleur lay back on the bed she shared with Bill, reading as the room dimmed. Slowly, the glow of the lamplight became the only source of light in the whole room, indeed the whole house. Fleur turned page after page in the book. She had borrowed it from Harry, hoping that by reading it she might improve her English. It was an adventure story about an Australian wizard and his travels through Europe. Every so often, Fleur noticed a word she didn’t know. She used a quill she had tucked behind her ear to write the word down on a roll of parchment next to her.

Fleur’s stomach began to grumble. She suppressed the hunger and continued reading. She hoped to finish the book before Bill returned home. He didn’t like it when she tried to be more English. Harry or Hermione would help her with her words.

They were all over at the Burrow now, getting ready for Christmas. Bill had asked Fleur to come with him. Practically begged, actually. But Fleur could not celebrate, not with the deaths of so many only a few months behind them.

Suddenly, Fleur heard a knock on the door downstairs. She levered herself out of bed and trotted downstairs, her hand on her wand out of sheer habit. Perhaps the knock was a group of Muggle carolers. Heaven knew she needed some Christmas cheer. Fleur reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed the hall, pulling the door open.

No one was there. A chill wind blew by outside, carrying snow with it. Hurriedly, she shut the door and went back inside. Her stomach growled louder than ever. Sighing, Fleur went into the kitchen and sliced off a piece of bread from the loaf in the breadbox. She sat at the table and began nibbling at the bread. It felt so strange to sit at this table without Harry and Ron and Hermione and Luna sitting around her. They had only stayed for a few weeks in the spring, but those weeks had permanently changed the way Fleur felt about her home. It felt empty without guests.

She knew she should be at the Burrow. It was Christmas Eve, for Merlin’s sake. She couldn’t make herself go – go see the empty, bereft look in George’s eyes, as though he had lost a part of his own soul when Fred died, see the way Molly still couldn’t look George straight in the face, see the scars that everyone bore now. It wasn’t just Bill and Harry who were scarred by Voldemort anymore. George was missing an ear, of course, and Hermione had those awful scars on her arm and neck from being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange.

Fleur sniffed. She reached up to wipe her face and felt tears. She hadn’t realized she was crying.

“What’re you crying for, girl?� growled a deep voice from the doorway to the sitting room.

Fleur leapt to her feet, turning almost in midair and pulling her wand out in one fluid motion. She pointed it at the figure in the doorway, who only laughed.

“There’s nothing you can do to hurt me, Delacour – or it’s Weasley now, isn’t it?� he said.

“’Oo are you?� Fleur demanded, her voice shaking.

The man chuckled and stepped into the light of the kitchen. Fleur gasped and took a step back. “Mon dieu,� she whispered, slipping back into her native tongue in shock. Before her stood Alastor Mad-Eye Moody, dead over a year.

“Why aren’t you at the Burrow with the other Weasleys?� Moody demanded.

“I saw you die,� Fleur muttered, still too shocked to really process the situation. “Mundungus deserted you, and you were struck by a Killing Curse. Right in ze face.�

“Yes, I’m dead,� Moody snapped. “But I was sent back.�

“Why?� Fleur asked.

“Why?� Moody repeated. “Why do you think, Princess? Use your brain!�

“Don’t call me zat!� Fleur retorted.

“Don’t call you what?� Moody inquired, pretending innocence. “I thought that’s what you wanted everyone to believe – that you were a lovely fairy princess.�

Fleur didn’t know how to respond to that. It was true that it was easier when people thought she matched the flowing blonde hair and big blue eyes. And she had emphasized that image during the Triwizard Tournament. “What are you doing ‘ere?� she demanded in an effort to change the subject.

“I might ask you the same,� Moody replied. “Why aren’t you at the Burrow with the other Weasleys?�

Fleur shrugged. “I did not zink I could ‘andle such an occasion with ze tragedy of ze war so close behind us.�

“Didn’t think you could keep your damned politician’s face up, more like,� Moody growled.

“Zat’s not true!� Fleur rejoined. “I love ze Weasleys. Eet is just too hard, with Fred gone and ze ozzers dealing with zer scars.� Her accent thickened as she grew agitated, just as it always did.

“And what scars do you have?� Moody demanded. “You’ve grown up as a fairy princess. Nothing ever went wrong for you, did it?�

Fleur glared at him, trying to come up with a suitable retort. “I almost lost Bill last year,� she pointed out. “And do you really believe zat Fred dying was any easier on me zan any of the Weasleys?�

Moody studied her. “Come on. It’s time to go.�

“Go where?� Fleur asked.

“I’m going to show you why you should be at the Burrow right now, instead of sitting alone around your house. If you don’t intend to leave for the Burrow now, you’re coming with me.� Moody pulled out a watch and studied its face. “We’d better hurry. We’ve got a lot to do, and there’s only – four hours to Christmas.�

“What makes you zink I want to go?� Fleur demanded.

Moody walked toward her until they were only a few inches apart. “They way I see it, it doesn’t rightly matter what you want. You need this, princess.�

Fleur glared at him a moment, her nostrils flared. “Fine,� she finally said.

Moody offered his arm. Fleur reluctantly linked her arm through his. “I need you to remember one thing,� he said.

“What’s zat?� Fleur asked.

“Constant vigilance!� Moody growled. “If we’re going to solve this problem of yours, we need to notice everything. I’ll take you back to two of your young Christmases first. Now, hold on tight.�

With that, he turned tightly on the spot. They both vanished in a shower of golden sparks.

Fleur stumbled as she landed on the oak boards, falling hard into the wall of her childhood home. Moody grabbed her shoulder and pulled her roughly to her feet. “Pay attention!� he hissed.

Fleur yanked her shoulder out of Moody’s grasp. “Let go of me,� she shot back.

“Well, if you’ll be so kind to notice what your family is doing,� Moody said patronizingly. “Just tiptoe over here with your satin slippers and watch.�

Fleur glared at him for a moment. Then she turned and gazed around the sitting room at her family. She saw herself at once. Little Fleur was still quite small and round-faced. Her hair, still the pure gold of corn silk, hung down to her hips with nary a wave or twist. She was kneeling before a rack that Fleur remembered was just outside her bedroom door. She picked out one of her shoes and walked across the room to the large fireplace. She placed it on the brick edge of the hearth. As little Fleur walked back toward her room, the adult Fleur knelt in her path, wide-eyed. Little Fleur strode straight through Fleur, completely oblivious to her older self’s presence.

Fleur stood, her eyes big as Galleons, and stared at Moody. “Where are we?� she demanded. “What is going on ‘ere?�

“Isn’t it obvious?� Moody inquired. “It’s Christmas Eve. This is your home. What is your family doing right now?�

“We’re getting ready to go to midnight Mass,� Fleur replied. “I just put out my shoe so Pere Noel would fill it with sweets in the morning. Zis is the year I turned eight. I fell asleep in Mass, and my father had to carry me home.� She smiled. “It was a good zing I had put out my shoe now.�

Fleur heard the familiar click of high-heeled shoes on the stairs and turned. Her mother was there, emerging from the staircase with a golden-haired baby on her shoulder.

“That’s Gabrielle,� Fleur supplied. “My little sister.�

“Yes, I remember,� Moody replied. “She was your hostage for the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament.�

Fleur looked at him in confusion. “But – I zought you were being held captive –“

“I was,� Moody replied gruffly. “I found out about it all from Dumbledore. About how that scum used my body to try and kill Harry Potter. Pay attention.�

Fleur turned her attention back to her family. Apolline had handed Gabrielle off to her husband while she put her fur-lined cloak on. “Fleur, choose a cloak,� she ordered brusquely.

“Oui, maman,� the young Fleur said and rushed to the hall closet. She selected a dark blue coat with rabbit fur around the collar. She buttoned it up over her pink dress and replaced her light, fashionable indoor shoes with brown leather boots better able to withstand the cold and snow outside.

“Fleur, why don’t you take your seester and wait outside for your muzzer and me,� Fleur’s father suggested, though it was really more of an order. Little Fleur took baby Gabrielle, already tightly bundled up, from her father and went outside, shutting the door securely behind her.

“Very direct, aren’t they?� Moody remarked.

“Zey love me,� Fleur replied. “Zat is what really matters, not zat zey were sometimes short.�

“What is ze matter, mon coeur?� Apolline asked, moving to take Monsieur Delacour’s hands.

“I cannot provide for you,� Monsieur Delacour said sadly. “I ‘ave lost my job at ze Ministry, and now I cannot give you, or Fleur, or little Gabrielle ze life zat you all deserve.�

“Darling, zat does not matter to us,� Apolline said. “You will find anozzer job. We all love you. I knew when we married zat zere would be ‘ard times along with ze good.�

Monsieur Delacour remained dejected, staring at the floor. “Eet ees just so ‘ard. Every day I go to Paris and see ze men I used to work with. Zey know just as well as I do zat ze only reason I am wizzout a job and zey still work ees zat none of them were courageous enough to say zat ze mistake was not only mine.�

“I know, mon cheri, zey are nozzing but cowards,� Apolline said proudly. This did not raise her husband’s spirits as she had hoped it had. Fleur watched a dozen emotions cross her mother’s face: despair, concern, and finally determination.

Apolline leant forward and tipped her husband’s chin up. She bent down and kissed him tenderly.

Fleur had never really watched her parents kiss before. She’d seen them do so, certainly, but had never actually watched. It was fascinating how her father seemed to draw strength from the contact with her mother’s lips, and how as he began to recover himself, he grew more active in the kiss.

“Oh, yes, that’s very lovely,� Moody growled.

As if on cue, Apolline drew away from her husband. “Can you not come wiz us and at least act ‘appy for a few ‘ours?�

Monsieur Delacour nodded. “Oui, I can do zat.� They kissed again, briefly, and then linked arms. They walked out the door, and Fleur heard the door lock with a click as one of them waved their wand.

“At ze time, I had no idea zis was ‘appening,� Fleur said. “Zey only told me a few months later.�

“Did your father find another job?� Moody asked.

Fleur nodded. “He advanced in ze new one far higher zan he would ‘ave in ze job he lost.�

“So I guess we can draw from this little scene that life goes on, and it’s important to appreciate what we have?� Moody suggested, smiling.

Fleur glared at him. “It is not zat simple.�

“Why not?� Moody asked. His voice, though gruff as always, was low, hardly louder than a murmur.

“Because,� Fleur exclaimed in exasperation. “My father only lost his job. Fred is dead! ‘Ow can you expect me to celebrate zat?�

“Do you know what it’s like for a man to be told he can’t do his job anymore?� Moody demanded. “When were you ever told that you can’t provide for your family, can’t give your wife and two baby girls the good things in life?�

“You ‘aven’t felt that either,� Fleur snapped. “You never married, you never ‘ad children, everyone knows zat.�

“But I have been told that I was no longer good enough to do my job. Do you know what that feels like, princess?� Moody demanded.

Fleur didn’t answer.

Moody studied her closely. “I think I know where we’re going next.�

“Where?� Fleur asked, dreading the answer. She could only think of one other Christmas that Moody might think she could “learn� from, and that was not one she wanted to revisit. It was only another failure in a year full of letting down her loved ones.

Moody seemed to sense the direction of her thoughts. In any case, he paused before stating, “We’re going back to the only Christmas you’ve spent at Hogwarts, when you were a Champion in the Triwizard Tournament.�

“No,� Fleur said, flat-out. “You cannot expect me to relive zat – zat night. What do you zink I can learn from zat?�

“You can learn a great deal from that night,� Moody said evenly. “If I understand correctly, you’re ashamed of it.�

“And why on earthy do you zink I want to ever remember zat Christmas, if I am so ashamed of it?� Fleur demanded.

“Like I said, princess, it’s not about what you want. You need this, so I’m going to show it to you.� Moody shrugged. “Besides, we’re already here.�

Fleur looked around sharply. Merde, she thought. Sure enough, they were standing in the entrance hall of Hogwarts. Students of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang flocked around them, on occasion even walking straight through the ghostly pair.

“’Ow did we get ‘ere?� Fleur demanded. “We were just standing in my parents’ ‘ouse – zere were no golden sparks or anyzing!�

Moody shrugged again – that gesture was seriously beginning to make Fleur angry. “I guess we don’t need the golden sparks. I just had to think of this hall, and here we are,� he said patronizingly. Fleur was itching to hex him. She didn’t care if he was a hero and an Auror. He was dragging her around on this stupid midnight journey she didn’t even need, forcing her to relive nights she wanted to forget and never think of again, and treating her like a spoiled fairy princess who didn’t know a Killing Curse from a rain dance. She felt blood beginning to boil in her temples as Moody started swaying to the music pouring out of the Great Hall.

“Look, there’s Potter and Weasley,� Moody said innocuously, gesturing over at the marble staircase. He pretended not to notice Fleur's temper rising. “Don’t they look nice? Ah, they’re going with the Patil twins. The Ravenclaw Patil looks awfully reluctant to go with Weasley, doesn’t she? Though I can’t say I blame her….�

Fleur couldn’t blame Padma Patil for her reluctance either. Ron looked absolutely ridiculous in his butchered dress robes. However, Fleur wasn’t about to give Moody the satisfaction of knowing she agreed with him.

“And there’s you,� said Moody cheerfully, turning to face the doors. He wasn’t alone; about half the male population of the hall turned with him. Several jaws slackened as Fleur’s seventeen-year-old self glided in. She wore silver robes that fit like a glove. Somehow, Fleur hadn’t remembered the robes being that snug, or the neckline that low. She noticed wryly that instead of staring at her, Ron tried to hide behind Harry.

A tall, well-built boy dressed in robes that were several shades darker than Fleur’s – Roger Davies – walked forward from the crowd. Young Fleur beamed and, when Davies offered his arm, gracefully took it. Davies and young Fleur swept through the crowd toward the doors of the Great Hall. McGonagall intercepted them. Adult Fleur knew she was giving them specific instructions on their duties as a Champion and guest.

“Who was that boy?� Moody inquired.

“Roger Davies,� Fleur growled. “A Ravenclaw – I ‘ad ‘oped for some intelligent conversation.�

“Well, he’s not bad-looking either,� said Moody fairly.

Fleur shot him a dirty look. “No, ‘e is not.�

They stood in silence until the students and Champions went into the Great Hall. “Well, we’d better go, hadn’t we?� Moody suggested.

“We do not need to watch ze dinner, do we?� Fleur asked.

Moody just gave her a half-beady, half wide-eyed look. They walked into the Great Hall and stood at the back of the room. At the head of the Hall, the Champions and their guests were seated at the high table along with their professors and important figures of the British Ministry. Young Fleur spoke to Davies with great intensity; never taking his eyes off her face, Davies slapped his hand on the table in agreement.

“What were you discussing?� Moody inquired.

“I was telling ‘im what I thought of ‘Ogwarts,� Fleur stated. She smiled halfheartedly. “I was so conceited zen. Arrogant, too.�

Moody made a not-so-subtle sound in the back of his throat, clearly indicating that he thought Fleur was still conceited and arrogant. She glared at him.

They stood in silence until the young Fleur left the high table on Davies’ arm. Davies swept her onto the dance floor as the orchestra struck up a waltz. The other Champions and their guests began dancing as well.

“We only danced for a few songs before ‘e took me away,� Fleur said.

Moody looked at her, then turned back to the dancers. His grip on his wand tightened as he saw his doppelganger sweep past Harry Potter. He jerked his head back, apparently in shock. “Did that – scum – really just compliment Potter on his socks?�

“I didn’t ‘ear,� Fleur said mildly.

After the fourth song or so, Davies stopped dancing. He backed off of the dance floor, young Fleur’s hands in his and a small smile on his face.

“Well, let’s go,� Moody said cheerfully, following Davies and young Fleur.

Fleur stared at him. “You can’t be serious.�

“I’m quite serious, princess,� Moody retorted.

“’Ow is watching myself kiss a boy going to teach me anyzing?� Fleur demanded.

Moody walked up to her so their faces were only inches apart. “You have to learn from it, princess. If you don’t – but we’ll come to that later.�

“What do you mean?� Fleur demanded.

“Come on!� Moody snapped, stumping away after young Fleur and Davies. Fleur could do nothing but follow him, and her younger self, as Davies led young Fleur into the shrub garden outside. Even now, the adult Fleur could not help but admire the beautiful fairy lights twinkling in the bushes.

Davies led young Fleur to a rose bush in the depths of the shrub garden. “You look beautiful,� he murmured.

“Zank you, Roger,� young Fleur replied. Adult Fleur rolled her eyes – her younger self was intentionally exaggerating her accent, as she always did when coming onto a boy. Young Fleur blinked a few times. Her eyes grew misty as she began to exude that inexorable charm of those with Veela blood.

Roger’s eyes widened; his head tipped slightly to one side, and he moved toward young Fleur. He cupped her face in his hands and leant in to her. He ki ssed the tip of her nose, her forehead, and her cheeks, before coming to hover over her mouth, inviting her to close the distance. After only a moment’s hesitation, young Fleur did so.

The adult Fleur watched this all with a horrible sense of déjà vu. She remembered all this vividly, but she had obviously not seen it from an outsider’s perspective. Now she cringed as young Fleur pressed her body into Davies’, angling her face so that she could more easily deepen the kiss.

For several minutes, Davies and young Fleur continued to kiss. They slowly backed further into the rose bush. Young Fleur came to rest with her back against the stem of the bush, surrounded by the lush scent of the roses. Adult Fleur winced in sympathy as the thorns dug into young Fleur’s back.

“Well, isn’t that just lovely,� Moody commented sarcastically.

Davies pulled away from young Fleur slightly, though his lips never left her skin. He kissed along her jawline to her ear, then down and across the side of her neck to the very center of her throat. Young Fleur’s head tipped back slightly in pleasure as her breath quickened. Davies began to work the buttons down the front of young Fleur’s robes, slowly revealing her black lace lingerie. His lips lingered in the hollow at the base of her throat.

Davies plucked the pins from Fleur’s long, silver-blonde hair. It tumbled town around her shoulders. He knotted one hand in the hair at the back of her skull, pulling her head further back as his lips returned to her throat.

With deliberate slowness, Davies kissed the hollow at the base of young Fleur’s throat once more. He moved further down, kissing her chest until his lips rested just between her breasts. Fleur watched her younger self melt.

Davies slid his free hand around from young Fleur’s back, where it had been resting, across her stomach and to her chest. Young Fleur stiffened at the touch. Her eyes opened, then widened as she saw how far Davies had reached. She let go of his back – her fingernails had been digging into the skin along his ribs – and reached up to take a handful of his hair.

Davies, taking this as a positive signal, continued his efforts with higher fervor. However, young Fleur used the handful of hair to pull his head away from her. “I am sorry, Roger,� she said. “I am just not comfortable doing zat.�

“You seemed pretty comfortable just a moment ago,� Roger objected. He leaned back in, but Fleur pressed against his shoulder.

“Don’t,� she said. She removed his hand from her breast.

Davies grabbed both of young Fleur’s shoulders and pressed her to him, kissing her hard. She squealed and fought against him, but he just grabbed her wrists. She bit his lip, hard.

Davies pulled back. “I thought you French bints liked that kind of thing.�

“Well, you zought wrong,� young Fleur snapped. She turned to stalk away, but Davies yanked on her arm, pulling her back toward him. Young Fleur slapped Davies hard in the face. For good measure, she stomped on his foot. Dignity forgotten, the young Fleur ran.

She didn’t stop running until she reached the Beauxbatons carriage. She rushed along the center aisle to her quarters – the interior had been treated with an Indetectable Enlargement Charm – and entered. Gabrielle was asleep on one side of the bed they shared. Fleur tore her robes off and hurled them into a corner, then threw herself down in the bed, wearing only her underclothes. She shook with the force of her sobs. Slowly, young Fleur grew still and fell asleep.

As her sister cried next to her, Gabrielle had begun to stir. She woke, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She noticed her sister lying beside her, wearing only her underclothes. Concerned, Gabrielle crept around the bed. She looked at her sister’s face, covered with smeared makeup.

Gabrielle sneaked down the aisle of the carriage to the girls’ lavoratory. She didn’t need to sneak – she was the only one in the carriage who was awake – but she kept her steps quiet out of habit. She soaked a washcloth in the sink, went back to her and Fleur’s quarters, and gently wiped the makeup and caked tears from Fleur’s face. She buried the washcloth in their hamper, then picked Fleur’s robes from the night before. Her eyes widened as she saw the small spots of blood on the back from the rose thorns the previous night.

The adult Fleur blinked several times in surprise. She found herself standing once more in her bedroom at Shell Cottage. “I ‘ad no idea,� she said. “I was ze first one to wake up ze next morning. I never zought she knew anyzing.�

Moody stood a few feet away from her. “It seems I owe you an apology, princess. If I had known how that would turn out, I never would have –“

“I know,� Fleur said. “It is not your fault.�

“But you still got up the next morning,� Moody asserted. “You climbed out of bed and spent the day with your sister. If I’m not mistaken, you made snow angels with her. Through all your shame at the previous evening, you played with your sister.�

Fleur smiled at the memory. “Yes, I did, didn’t I?� The smile faded. “But it’s still not ze same. I was only sad at ze embarrassment of having failed in remaining a lady whom Madame Maxine would be proud of. No one ‘ad died, no one ‘ad sacrificed zemselves for ze greater good…� Despite this, Fleur found that she was crying.

Moody studied her intently. “Any dignity you may have lost was completely negated by the fact that you totally kicked his arse,� he told her, sounding a notch gentler than usual.

Fleur smiled slightly. “Yes, I suppose zat you are right.� She sniffled and held her chin up. “Where will we be going next?�

Moody cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Now is when our little job gets really painful. We will go and see what your family and friends are doing without you.�

Fleur shook her head. “My family? But I have not seen zem since ze wedding.�

“Well, them too,� Moody agreed. “But you have another family we’re going to see. The Weasleys.�

Fleur stared. “But zey do not zink of me as family. I am still an outsider to zem.�

“You might be surprised, princess,� Moody told her. He held out his arm. “Now grab on.�

The shower of golden sparks descended again, and Fleur found herself in her parents’ house. Used to the process by now, she did not stumble or fall. She gazed around at the stone walls. This was a different house than the one she’d grown up in; even though she had not won the Triwizard Tournament, Beauxbatons had given her family a substantial compensation for her risk in participating.

The staircase in this house was much grander than the one in her first home. Instead of being tucked away in a corner, it was placed prominently in the hall. Either her parents or Gabrielle had strung garland along the banisters. Gabrielle, her braided hair turned almost completely to the signature Veela silver-blonde, knelt in front of a great pine tree set up at the base of the stairs. She took bulbs from a box next to her and hung them on the already sparkling and lit branches.

The door slammed open, a flurry of snow blowing in, and Fleur’s father stomped in, bearing a paper-wrapped package. He closed the door behind him. Gabrielle stood and took the package from her father. She unwrapped it, revealing a golden glittery star. “Oh, papa, c’est magnifique!� she exclaimed. She stood on her tiptoes and reached as far as she could, just barely managing to place the star on top of the tree.

“Mon cher, est que vous?� Fleur’s mother called. She appeared at the top of the stairs, beaming down at her husband.

“Oui, il est moi,� her father replied, still somewhat breathless. They continued to speak in French, Fleur murmuring translations to Moody.

After a minute or so of small talk, Apolline asked Monsieur Delacour, “Cheri, would you come upstairs, please? I’m having trouble lifting a box to the attic.�

“Evidemment!� Monsieur Delacour burst out. He strode up the stairs and took his wife’s hand. They disappeared down the hallway to the attic door.

Gabrielle continued to hang ornaments, blue and green and red and purple globes of glass that sparkled in the firelight and reflected distorted images of the room.

Suddenly, the fire blazed and turned emerald. Gabrielle jumped to her feet and turned toward it, whipping her wand out from its holster on her leg as she did so. Slowly, the fire regressed, and the tall, redheaded form of Bill Weasley stepped out. Fleur gasped. Moody gave her a steadying look with both his eyes. “You all right?� he murmured. Fleur nodded quickly.

Gabrielle lowered her wand slightly but did not entirely drop her guard. “What did you tell me ze morning you married my seester?� she asked. Her green eyes, the main difference between her and Fleur’s appearance, narrowed. For a moment, Fleur could almost imagine her baby sister as dangerous.

“I told you that I would never hurt your sister, and that if you ever needed a brother you could come to me,� Bill replied. He swung his arms forward and back, recovering himself from the long journey by Floo.

Gabrielle nodded and lowered her wand. She did not replace it in its sheath, but instead laid it on an end table between two chairs.

“Is Fleur here?� Bill asked without preamble.

“No,� Gabrielle replied. “Why? Should she be? What ‘as ‘appened?�

“Nothing’s happened,� Bill said in a tired voice. “She didn’t want to come to my parents’ house tonight, so I thought she might have come here.�

“No, I ‘ave not seen ‘er.� Gabrielle shook her head. “’Ave you checked your ‘ouse? Are you certain zat she ‘as not vanished?�

“No, I haven’t gone back to our house,� Bill stated. He smiled slightly. “I was a bit afraid to – you know how she can be when you piss her off.�

Gabrielle chuckled ruefully. “Yes, I do know ‘ow she can be. ‘Ave you ever seen her when ze wait for ze bathroom is taking too long?�

Bill laughed. “No, I haven’t seen that. I have, however, seen her throw a fit over the organization of linens.�

Fleur scoffed, indignant. “I did not zrow a fit!� she protested. “And my temper is not zat bad!�

“It is from what I’ve seen, princess,� Moody retorted, laughing. Fleur glared at him. Moody kept laughing for a moment before pretending to compose himself.

Fleur turned back to Gabrielle and Bill, who were still speaking. “I cannot believe ‘e came all zis way just to see if I was ‘ere.�

“It’s because he loves you, princess,� Moody said quietly. “He loves you enough to come all this way to face your sister and make sure this is one place on the planet where you’re not, and you turned your back on him. You wouldn’t even go with him to his parents’.�

“Don’t,� Fleur snapped. “I would ‘ave only been an interloper. ‘Is parents do not want me zere.�

“Yes, they do,� Moody insisted. “They want you to be there more than you can even imagine. You are part of that family now, and they want you with them.�

“Prove it,� Fleur spat.

Moody shrugged. “As you wish.�

Suddenly, they were standing not in the front hall of Fleur’s parents’ home, but in the small, cramped kitchen of the Burrow. Molly was fussing about, cutting slices of chocolate cake. Ginny appeared in the kitchen behind Molly.

“Can I help you, Mum?� she asked. “Everyone’s starting to get worried.�

Molly flashed a grin over her shoulder at her daughter. “No, thank you, dear. I’m getting on fine. Why don’t you just go wait in the sitting room with the others.�

Ginny smiled. “Okay, Mum.� She turned to leave and even took a few steps before turning back to her mother. “It would be easier on you if Phlegm – sorry – Fleur was here, wouldn’t it?�

Molly shrugged, not looking up from the cake. “Yes, I suppose.�

“Bill’s gone to her parents’ house to see if she went there instead,� Ginny informed her mother.

“And what would he have done if she had been there?� Molly asked. She turned on the spot. “Begged her to come again? Well, he already tried that, and we all saw how well that worked out.�

Ginny’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t mean that, Mum,� she said. “You’re just stressed.�

“Why shouldn’t I be stressed?� Molly demanded. “When my only daughter-in-law suddenly decides that this house isn’t good enough to spend her Christmas in, and my son’s too sad about his brother to leave his flat –“

“She doesn’t think that, Mum,� Ginny protested. “And you can hardly blame George –“

“Mum?� Charlie – the son right after Bill, Fleur remembered – entered the kitchen, clutching a glass of eggnog. “Is everything all right?�

“We’re fine, Charlie,� Mrs. Weasley snapped, very clearly not fine.

Charlie slowly crossed the kitchen. He wrapped his long arms around his mother and hugged her tight. He spoke to her, his voice so low it was impossible for Ginny to hear. Fleur and Moody, however, were somehow able to catch his words.

“I know it’s hard for you, having Christmas without all of us here,� he murmured. “But I don’t think Fleur and George stayed behind because they wanted us to be miserable. They just couldn’t face a celebration right now. You’ve lost brothers, Mum. You know it’s hard to live, let alone celebrate. But right now, you and I need to pull ourselves together and go sit with the others and pretend that even though everything’s been blown to shite we can deal with it.�

Molly looked hopelessly at her son. Apparently she hadn’t even registered the swear word. “But I can’t, Charlie. I can’t fake a smile.�

Charlie smiled encouragingly at her. “Sure you can. Come on, let’s finish cutting the cake and then we’ll go talk with Dad and the others.�

With Charlie’s warm supportiveness behind her, Molly managed to finish cutting the cake. She, Ginny, and Charlie all took a plate in each hand and carried them out to the sitting room. Moody and Fleur followed them out. Fleur stopped short at the sight of the company there. Everyone was thinner and paler than they had been at her wedding to Bill, of course, but they had all recovered somewhat from the strain of the war. All of them looked much better than they had at the end of the war, save one.

Harry, always thin, now bordered on skeletal. As Ginny handed him a plate and then plopped down beside him, he murmured a word of thanks but otherwise didn’t respond. His eyes were circled by deep purple as though he had hardly slept for days.

“It looks like he’s having a rough time of Christmas too,� Moody remarked. “Probably thinking about all the people who won’t see this Christmas because they sacrificed themselves for him.�

Fleur nodded. Her concern for Harry’s situation far outweighed her irritation at Moody. She stared at Harry, her blue eyes wide as Galleons. She would have given a fortune for his bright green ones to meet hers and smile, through the distance and various dimensions between them.

Suddenly, the fireplace blazed green. Bill stepped out, mostly covered in soot, his mouth drawn in a thin line and his long hair mussed. “She’s not there,� he said without preamble.

Charlie shot a dark look at Ginny, then jerked his chin at their mother. She nodded, walked two steps, and hugged her mother. Mrs. Weasley sniffled, nodded once, then straightened her shoulders and looked around at them all. “Now,� she asked, “who’s going to help me bring in the rest of that cake?�

Ron, Charlie, Hermione, and Ginny volunteered at once. As they stood and walked into the kitchen, the others began their conversation once more.

“Why is George not ‘ere?� Fleur asked. “’E should be; look, zere is ‘Arry; it would be good for zem to be together.�

“I think that could be said about many people,� Moody said pointedly, staring directly at her with both his eyes.

“Why do you zink zat?� Fleur inquired. “Clearly, ze Weasleys do not mind zat I am not with zem. Zey are carrying on as if nozzing is ze matter.�

Moody’s composure, which he had been working to keep since the incident with Davies, began to crack. “Princess, can’t you see how they’re faking it? Look at them, not one of them is really happy.�

“Well, my presence would not make zem ‘appy,� Fleur retorted.

“Perhaps not,� Moody snapped, “but it would be one step closer.� He studied her a moment. “Do you want to see why George isn’t here?�

“Yes,� Fleur replied, not meeting his eyes.

“Well, then,� Moody said, and they were standing in a small, plain room. A brass bedstead stood in one corner. A mirror hung on the other wall, next to a chest of drawers. The door by the bed was closed; the other door, directly across, was slightly opened, revealing a white tile floor, a sink, and the edge of a shower curtain. A window in the wall above the bed provided the only light. A Gryffindor pennant between the doors provided a small splash of color.

Fleur walked across the creaky wooden floor to the window and gazed out. It took her a moment to place the street outside; then she realized that she was in Diagon Alley. That meant –

A door slammed below them. As footsteps pounded up the stairs, Moody drew Fleur into the corner with the mirror. Out of habit, Fleur looked over her shoulder at the mirror. She gasped when she saw nothing but the brass bed reflected. Moody rolled his eyes.

George slammed the door open and stomped in. He kicked the door shut behind him and set his rucksack on his bed. Fleur gasped at his appearance – he was even thinner than Harry, and gaunter by at least half. He stared into Fleur and Moody’s corner for a moment, so intense in his look that Fleur could swear he saw them. It took a moment for her to realize he was glaring daggers at his own reflection. He stormed over to the chest of drawers, yanked out a cloak, and threw it over the mirror. He stood there for a moment, shaking – Fleur thought she heard a sob. Then he fell onto his bed and pulled out a bottle. Fleur wasn’t sure, but she could bet it wasn’t Butterbeer.

“We’d best go,� Moody murmured. “I’m receiving a signal that he’s about to receive his own visitation.�

“What do you mean, a signal?� Fleur inquired.

Moody gestured over to the window. Fleur looked. Her eyes popped wide open, and her jaw dropped to her chest. Fred Weasley stood there, grinning cheekily and waving at her.

She stared for a moment, then slowly collected herself and nodded. “Yes, I suppose we ‘ad ought to go. Where next?�

Moody placed his hands on both her shoulders and said, “The future, princess.�

Fleur blinked. That was all Moody needed – he whisked them years forward and miles across Britain. They landed in the middle of a thick snowstorm. Fleur shivered for a moment in her cardigan and skirt before Moody cast a Warming Charm over both of them.

“Where are we?� Fleur asked, her whisper cutting through the cold air like a razor through tissue paper.

“Hogsmeade,� answered Moody. “Christmas Eve of the year two thousand eighteen. Here you come.�

Fleur turned on her heel. A shadow in the snow slowly darkened. It gradually became discernable as a woman. Fleur shook her head – no, that couldn’t be her. The woman was dressed in a frumpy, shapeless black coat. Her hair was pulled back in a horribly tight bun, and she wore the most horrid little pointy-toed boots Fleur had ever seen. Fleur continued to stare into the snow a moment after the woman had passed, certain that someone else was coming.

Moody laughed. “No, princess, that’s you.�

Fleur turned and stared at the woman’s retreating back. There was something familiar about the gait, she decided. Without warning, Fleur took off running, chasing the woman. She slipped several times in the snow – despite her own personal grace, her leather flats weren’t meant for this sort of thing. As the woman Fleur still wasn’t entirely sure was herself rounded a corner, Fleur fell. She skidded across the ice until she finally hit someone’s front step. She gasped, feeling at her leg where she had made contact. Her fingers came away bloody.

With a whoomph of displaced snow, Moody knelt next to her. “Here, now, you’re all right.� From a pocket of his overcoat, he produced a roll of white gauze bandages. He held some snow against the wound to staunch the flow of blood – the cut really wasn’t that deep – and then wrapped Fleur’s leg tightly in the bandages. He had been murmuring through this whole process, a half-nonsense continuous vocalization that Fleur realized was supposed to keep her calm. She felt her admiration for Moody grow several notches – clearly, paranoia wasn’t the only thing being an Auror had taught him. “There now, up you get,� he said, standing. Fleur took his proffered hand and got to her feet, trying not to look at the bloodstain on the snow.

“Zank you,� she said quietly.

“Any time,� Moody replied. He half-smiled at her. “Now, let’s go find your future self. I have a fair idea of where she’s going.�

They walked together through the streets of Hogsmeade, After a few minutes Fleur lost recognition of the location. She and her friends from Beauxbatons definitely hadn’t gone to this part of town.

Moody led her to the wooden door of a tavern, the Hog’s Head. He pushed the door open and gestured for her to go before him. As she entered the warmth of the tavern, Fleur felt herself relax considerably. She couldn’t tell what the floor was made of, finally settling on the answer that it must be centuries of dirt and grime piled up on stone.

Her gaze wandered over to the bar. A small man wearing a long, floppy hat sat at the bar. It was only when he turned to greet the woman whom Fleur had not yet admitted to herself was her that she recognized him as George Weasley. She gasped and looked at Moody, who nodded.

“’Ow ‘as zis ‘appened?� Fleur whispered, horrified. “What are we doing, ‘ere in some common bar instead of at ze Burrow?�

Moody shook his head. “You started new traditions.�

“No,� Fleur breathed. “No, zis cannot be.�

The frumpy woman sat down beside George. She ordered a pint, and despite Fleur’s unwillingness to admit that this woman was her, she recognized the lilt of her own voice.

Fleur sat down next to her frumpy self and watched. When the frumpy woman – Fleur refused to associate her own name with this monstrosity – received her pint, she and George clinked glasses.

“How’s Bill?� George asked.

“’E’s fine,� the frumpy woman said. “’E and Muriel are over at Harry and Ginny’s.�

“Who’s Muriel?� Fleur inquired of Moody, who had taken the seat next to her.

“Your daughter,� he replied quietly and, truth be told, a little sadly.

Fleur grimaced, scrunching up her nose. “But zat name – it is after Bill’s great-aunt. I would never name my daughter after ‘er.�

Moody shrugged. “Had you gone to the Burrow all those years ago, she would have been named Victoire.�

Fleur smiled. She liked that name, Victoire. She supposed it must be because her daughter would be born on the anniversary of Harry’s defeat of Voldemort.

George continued to speak with the frumpy woman. He asked her about more members of the Weasley family. She answered, although she couldn’t provide responses for many of his questions. Fleur felt herself sink deeper into despair. Neither of them knew their families anymore. Had she really caused this?

“It’s not all your fault,� Moody replied, as though he could read her thoughts. “You never kept George back from visiting his family. But you never encouraged him to, either.�

George bid farewell to the frumpy woman and left the pub. Moody nudged Fleur in the side and gestured toward the door. She followed him, though she asked as she went, “What will – what will zat woman do now?�

“You,� Moody replied, placing careful empasis on the word, “will proceed to buy several more pints, get yourself stark raving drunk, embarrass yourself greatly by dancing on the bar, and then fall asleep on that same bar.�

Fleur stared at him.

“Bill will come in the morning, before your daughter is up, and collect you,� Moody continued. In response to her astonished look, he stated, “He’s been doing it for five years now. But what I really want you to see is quickly vanishing down that street.�

Fleur followed Moody outside, where George’s retreating figure was just barely visible in the snow. They hurried to catch up with him. Just as they drew level with him, he ducked into an alley and Disapparated, landing somewhere in Diagon Alley. They followed him down the alley. Soon, Fleur realized they were in that blurry area that was neither Diagon Alley nor Knockturn Alley – apparently it had grown from a single walk to an entire region of its own.

George paused by a set of stairs before staggering up them. The door at the top didn’t need a key. George only had to grip the handle tightly and heave with his shoulder at a certain point in the door for it to creak open. He walked inside – this had been a shop before the war – and crossed the room to a corner, where he sat heavily on some newspapers. He pulled a bottle out of his coat pocket and took a slug.

“This isn’t the end of his night,� Moody informed Fleur. “He’ll probably go out later, find himself a cheap date.�

Fleur stared at him, not wanting to believe it. “You mean George will –“

Moody nodded, gazing at her. “As things stand now, this is how your future will be. Come, let’s go outside. No reason to stay in this pit.�

They walked back out into the snow. Her spirits completely deflated, Fleur collapsed onto the top step of George’s new front porch. After a moment, Moody sat down too.

Fleur took a minute to just look around at the street. This wasn’t the Diagon Alley she knew. Half the windows were boarded up, and the whole area radiated a general atmosphere of neglect and decay.

Fleur looked over at Moody helplessly. “Surely zis isn’t all my fault?� she asked weakly.

Moody shook his head. “No, it isn’t all your fault. You weren’t the only one to give up after the war, though. Many people did. The surrender of the seemingly perfect French Weasley made others feel it was acceptable for them to do the same. And then – when the whole Weasley clan fell apart… but none of you realize how much you matter to the wizarding community, do you?’

“What are you talking about?� Fleur demanded. “The Weasleys didn’t fall apart – zey’re one of the most close-knit families I know.�

Moody sighed. “Then why aren’t you saying ‘we’?�

Fleur stood, suddenly resolute. “Show me ze Burrow.�

Moody stood. “Are you sure you want to see that? I’m warning you now, princess, it isn’t pretty.�

“Show me,� Fleur commanded.

Moody cast his gaze heavenward for a moment and then nodded. He took Fleur’s hand and they vanished, reappearing in the middle of a wide, empty field.

Fleur turned on the spot, staring into the darkness. “Where is it? Where is ze Burrow?�

Moody sighed. “It’s gone, princess. The Weasleys moved out.�

Fleur shook her head desperately. “No. No. What do you mean?�

“Just what I said. After that first Christmas without you or George, it became easier for the other Weasleys to make excuses. At last, it was only Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron who came for Christmas. Molly and Arthur began to question the wisdom of having that big house if nobody was going to use it. And then, when Arthur fell down some stairs and hurt his back, that clinched it.� Moody stared at the spot in the field where the huge house had been, shaking his head. “They sold the house. Apparently the new owners didn’t feel it was wise to keep it either.

Fleur sniffled. Without her knowledge, she had begun to cry. She began trembling, though she didn’t realize it until Moody had wrapped his arms around her. She hardly registered it when the air warmed considerably and she was standing in her own sitting room once more.

Moody laid Fleur back on the plush sofa, letting her catch her breath. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. He dragged an armchair over so that he could sit next to her. When Fleur opened her eyes, it was to see him sitting there, leaned back in his chair, his normal eye closed and his blue eye watching her. They stayed like that for a minute, both just relishing the sensation of not being borne through space and time.

Finally, Fleur asked, her voice shaking, “Is zere anywhere else you are going to take me?�

Moody opened his normal eye. “No, princess, there isn’t.� He cracked a slight grin. “I didn’t think you would need anything after what we just saw.�

Fleur sat up. “No, you’re right, I don’t. I don’t believe what I just saw – I can’t believe it yet, I don’t zink.�

Moody nodded. “I’ve heard it takes a while. So tell me, Fleur, what are you going to do?�

Fleur stared at him. “You just called me Fleur,� she said, shocked by this new development.

Moody cocked an eyebrow at her. “Well, it’s your name, isn’t it? Please don’t tell me I’ve just carted the wrong Mrs. Bill Weasley across a continent and thirty years of her own personal history.�

Fleur smiled slightly at that. “But — you never call me Fleur. You always call me princess.�

“Yes, well, I was beginning to sense that that was growing tiresome.� Moody grinned.

Fleur shrugged. “It’s not ze worst name I’ve been called.� She made eye contact with both his eyes, and for the first time she realized it had been a strain for Moody as well as herself to see all those events from her past, present and future. She doubted he had taken any pleasure from the visions that had left her reeling. No, of course he hadn’t. Only someone cruel, someone completely heartless, could take pleasure from that. He wasn’t heartless. He had a good heart; it was just buried beneath a gruff exterior.

Suddenly, Fleur believed everything he had shown her. She leaned back against the cushions of the sofa, holding her head. “Is everyzing zat you showed me – zose ‘orrors of ze future – will zey all come true?� she asked.

“That’s really up to you, Fleur,� Moody replied. “If you don’t go over tonight, it won’t spell certain doom and destruction for the Weasley family. You could always make it up to them by going over tomorrow night, or next Christmas when it’s time to announce that you’re pregnant.�

Fleur gaped. “I’ll be pregnant next Christmas?�

Moody chuckled. “Again, it’s all up to you. Though Muriel was a bit younger than Victoire, if you catch my drift.�

Fleur smiled at the thought of her daughter. “Victoire,� she murmured, her hand unconsciously straying to her belly.

“Or Muriel,� Moody reminded her.

She looked at him intently. “Do ze Weasleys really want me over zere, or did I just imagine all the zings zey said?�

Moody shook his head, smiling wryly. “No, they really do want you with them. You are family now, after all.�

Fleur nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose we are, aren’t we? Especially after ze war.�

“And one thing I can tell you about Molly Weasley,� Moody stated, “if she thinks of you as her family and you don’t come to something important like Christmas, it – well, it just tears her up. She’ll probably cry herself to sleep tonight if you don’t go.�

Fleur looked at the floor. “I ‘adn’t realized.�

“Most people don’t, with Molly,� Moody agreed. “She won’t let on to your face – or at least she’ll try not to – but it will always be in the back of her mind until you make it up to her.�

Fleur nodded. “I suppose I can understand zat.�

Moody let her sit, slouched over with her elbows on her knees, in silent contemplation a moment before he asked again, “So what are you going to do?�

Fleur sat up and looked directly at him. “Well, first I’m going to change into something more festive. I mean, I can’t very well go to ze Burrow in zis, can I?� She gestured at her beige cardigan and grey skirt.

Moody rolled his eyes. “Very well. Then what?�

“Zen I will go to ze Burrow and act as zough I am ‘appy, and then Bill and I will come home and go to bed and open presents tomorrow morning. And – soon?� Moody caught her train of thought and nodded, smiling. “Zen I will ‘ave a little girl and call ‘er Victoire.�

Moody grinned, somewhat lopsidedly because of his scars. “I like that plan. Can you think of anything else to make it even better, though?�

Fleur nodded, smiling. “On my way to ze Burrow, I zink I will drop in on George and see if ‘e will come with me.�

Moody nodded, satisfied. “Good girl.� Fleur beamed. Somehow, his praise had grown to mean much more to her than she had ever thought it could. “Now, why don’t you run up and put something pretty on?�

Fleur started up the stairs, but she paused halfway up. She turned around to see Moody at the bottom of the stairs. He grinned and shooed her up. “Go on!�

“I don’t suppose I will ever see you again, will I?� Fleur asked.

Moody shrugged. “You will one day. But it will take a very long time.�

“Well, zen, I ‘ad better say goodbye now,� Fleur replied. She trotted back down the stairs. Moody offered his hand, but instead Fleur hugged him tightly, kissing him soundly on both cheeks. “Au revoir, and thank you,� she said.

Moody hugged her back. “You’re welcome, princess.� He pulled away, and as he spun to walk toward the door, Fleur could swear she saw him blushing. He reached the door and faced her, raising a hand in farewell. Fleur waved back, and he disappeared into the snow. Fleur barely caught sight of a shower of gold sparks.

She ran upstairs, already choosing in her mind which dress she would wear.