Winter had arrived in France with all the elegance and charm of a painting—snow blanketing the rooftops, frost curling around the windowpanes, and warm firelight flickering inside the Delaroche estate.
Louis stood beside the fireplace, his fingers wrapped around a cup of hot spiced cider. He was home for the winter holidays, and for once, he allowed himself to enjoy the moment without the burden of duty or destiny. His parents had decorated the manor with wreaths of holly and shimmering charms that hung in the air like tiny stars. There was laughter, joy, and that comforting closeness that had grown between them over the years. His mother had hugged him tighter than usual that morning, perhaps sensing the storm of emotions he carried inside.
Christmas Eve had been quiet, shared in the comfort of their family circle. His father had read aloud from old magical tales, his mother humming carols softly in the background. Louis had helped prepare dinner with a few clever household spells, laughing freely when a levitating spoon chased him around the kitchen. It was the kind of warmth he hadn't known in his previous life. Here, love wasn't a symbol; it was a presence.
Yet beneath the festive charm, something stirred. A knot of tension had taken root in his chest. He had made his choice. But he hadn't yet faced the consequences.
The next day brought a different sort of gathering.
The grand Noël Réunion of the French nobility and pure-blooded wizarding families was held annually at Château Malévrier. Under golden chandeliers and tapestries enchanted to snow indoors, the great hall bustled with cloaks of velvet and masks of etiquette. Children of high lineage exchanged polite smiles, and parents eyed one another with political calculation thinly veiled under holiday cheer.
Louis arrived with his parents, dressed in elegant robes of deep midnight blue. The moment he stepped in, eyes turned. Some recognized his talents, others whispered of his lineage, but he paid them no mind. He scanned the room until his eyes found her.
Fleur.
She was radiant in her pale silver gown, her part-Veela blood giving her a faint ethereal glow. When she noticed him, her face lit up.
"Louis!"
They embraced lightly, then slipped away from the crowd, as they often did, preferring their quiet moments.
The gardens, blanketed in snow and gently lit by floating orbs, offered them solace from the chatter inside. The winter air was crisp, but they didn't mind. Together, they strolled past frozen fountains and evergreens twinkling with enchanted lights.
"Beauxbatons is beautiful," Fleur said. "The halls shimmer in the moonlight. You would've loved it."
Louis smiled faintly. "I'm sure I would've."
They walked in silence for a few moments until Louis froze. Across the garden path stood Nicolas Flamel, speaking with an older wizard. But Flamel's eyes flicked toward Louis. A moment later, Louis felt it—Verba Animae.
A voice in his mind.
"Don't delay the inevitable, mon garçon. Now is the moment."
Louis exhaled slowly. Flamel turned away without another glance.
"Fleur," Louis began as they stopped near a snow-covered bench, "can we talk?"
She tilted her head. "Of course."
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I've been thinking a lot lately. About the future. About where I belong."
Her smile faltered just slightly. "You're not going to Beauxbatons, are you?"
He looked down. "No. I've chosen Hogwarts."
The silence stretched. Fleur blinked rapidly, then her lower lip trembled.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" she whispered.
"I didn't know how. I didn't want to ruin this. I didn't want to hurt you."
Tears began to roll down her cheeks. Louis felt his own heart clench.
He reached for her hand. "Fleur, I didn't choose this lightly. You've become... incredibly important to me."
He hesitated, then added, "There's something else. A spell Nicolas and I created—Verba Animae."
Fleur looked up at him, confused. "What spell?"
"It allows thoughts to be transmitted mind-to-mind," Louis explained softly. "I haven't told you about it. I... I created it just for this. So that no matter where we are, if you ever wanted to talk, I could hear you."
She stared at him, silent in her astonishment.
"You made a spell like that? For me?"
Louis nodded. "Yes. Because I knew being apart would be hard. I hoped this way, we could still be connected. Even across countries. Even across schools."
Fleur slowly wiped her tears, looking away as her cheeks reddened.
"You never cease to surprise me," she murmured. "And you made this just so we could talk?"
"I did," he said simply. "Because you're one of the few people who truly matter to me."
She laughed, a soft, tearful sound. "You're ridiculous. But... that was really sweet."
She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, her touch lingering.
"Come back for spring break, d'accord?" she whispered.
He nodded.
As he watched her disappear into the ballroom, the weight in his chest eased—just a little. The goodbye had been painful. But he had chosen to be honest. And somehow, despite it all, their bond had only deepened.
Louis turned his eyes to the starry sky above, a thin smile on his lips. But doubt still lingered in his heart.
Would distance truly be bridged by magic? Would Fleur still want to speak with him, months from now, when they lived such different lives?
He remembered Flamel's words—don't delay the inevitable. But what if the inevitable wasn't distance, but change? Would their friendship endure that?
He didn't know. But as snow began to fall again, he placed a hand over his chest, where a warmth lingered from Fleur's kiss.
Not all goodbyes meant endings. Some were just the beginning of something more resilient. And with magic—anything was possible.
Even keeping a promise between two hearts, across countries, and across time.