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.