Could her hair really be so silvery and celestial that it rippled without wind? Were her eyes really like a blazing fire melting all they looked at? She couldn't be real, yet there she sat, laughing with her cousin Rose at the dining table, a spoon of casserole, her aunt Hermione's speciality, in her angelic little hand. The sound of carols and the smell of Christmas cake wafted through the Weasleys' house. The kitchen window he was looking through was bordered with magical icicles. Rose, Lily, his godmother Ginny and Dominique had spent the earlier period of the day decorating the house lavishly. The girl at whom he gazed so longingly was now pulling a cracker with her younger brother, Louis. He watched her from the kitchen where he was placing his dish in the sink. He was so busy staring at her that he mistakenly smashed the plate he was supposed to be soaking.
"Damn" he whispered and took his wand out but before he could repair it a voice from behind him said, 'Reparo' and the fragments flew back together. He turned around, startled, only to find his godfather standing in the doorway holding his own empty plate.
"You scared me! I mean I was going to repair it myself,"
"Yeah but why did you break it?"
"It was an accident, I, umm, well . . ."
Harry smirked. He scowled. The door opened and in walked his Aunt Hermione, a Christmas wreath on her bushy brown hair.
"It's time for pudding!" She stated brightly.
He chanced a glance at her again while his godfather inspected the cake with Aunt Hermione and saw that she was bestowing a kiss upon Louis' head while he wriggled in protest. He had spent the entire Christmas holidays trying to be as nice to Louis as he could so that when the time came for action, Louis would not object. Louis and Dominique, her brother and sister, each liked him very much but Louis was very protective of his older sister.
He became conscious of his godfather's green eyes scanning his expression so, for want of something to do; he soaked the repaired plate and washed his hands.
Harry's eyes followed him out of the kitchen where he joined the party of coffee-drinking, anecdote-reciting, Christmas-eve dinner laden folks. He avoided looking at her soft eyes and fiddled with the radio. One of the romantic number's of the band 'The Weird Sisters' floated in to their ears and Aunt Hermione cried delightfully that she and Uncle Ron had first danced to this very song at the wedding of Bill and Fleur. Bill and Fleur happened to have created the very goddess he was trying not to look at.
"Mum!" said little Hugo "This is such an old-fashioned song!"
"Now Huey," said Uncle George, "You may be too cool to listen to the Weird Sisters but then aren't you too cool to buy Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes? They're from the same generation!"
Hugo blushed.
"I hate the name Huey" he mumbled
Everyone laughed.
"What's that on your wrist Rosie?" asked Aunt Hermione, her mother
Rose turned true as her name, red as a rose
"A friend gifted it to me" she said quietly
Uncle Ron raised his eyebrows, "Would that 'friend' by any chance be a boy? Perhaps a certain feller named Malfoy?"
"Dad! He's just my friend!" she said furiously but it was too late, everyone was making fun of Rose except her mother, Aunt Ginny and Her. The girl we, until a few moments ago, were studying through a certain youth's longing eyes, was telling everyone off for laughing. Her hair was gleaming in the faint light cast by the star on top of the Christmas tree that Rose had enchanted to glow.
He would go mad if she wasn't his, he had to act. Smiling, he resumed his seat and accepted pudding thinking to himself as he chanced a glance at this symbol of perfection:
Could she really be . . .