XI.
Louis
The First Noël
24 December 2026
They looked up and saw a star,
Shining in the east beyond them far,
"Joyeux Noël, mon amour…"
Louis opened his eyes blearily, smiling. He blinked a couple times, and the dark-haired, olive-skinned outline of his wife grew clearer, as she leaned over him, beaming.
"Joyeux Noël," he murmured back, reaching out and gently tucking a strand of Adelaide's curly black hair behind her ear. Then, rubbing his tired, crusty eyes, Louis dragged himself upright and sat back against the headboard of their bed. "What time is it?" he asked hoarsely, glancing at the window of the bedroom—the sky outside was a cool, early-evening blue. "Have I been asleep all day?"
"Oui," said Adelaide, resting the back of her hand against Louis's forehead. "And your fever 'as broken. It looks like we weel be able to make it to ze Burrow tonight, after all."
Louis grinned, reaching out suddenly and pulling Adelaide onto the bed. She gave a little squeak of fright, but then giggled, falling into his lap.
"Or we could tell everyone I'm still sick," Louis whispered in her ear. "And we can do…other things tonight."
Adelaide turned and shot him a stern look that was ruined by a twitch at the corners of her lips. "Non," she told him firmly. "Your muzzer said zat she weel come 'ere with a bucket of Pepperup 'erself, if zat eez what it weel take to get you to your grandparents' 'ouse."
Louis rolled his eyes, heaving an exaggerated sigh, as he released her. "Typical Maman."
Adelaide smirked, crawling out of Louis's lap and lightly swinging herself off of the bed. "It eez ze consequence of being 'er only son, I am afraid."
Louis snorted. "Like I had any say in that."
Adelaide laughed, bending down and kissing his cheek. Then, she straightened, smiling warmly at him. "I weel be back," she told him. "I 'ave made some tea for us."
Louis nodded, smiling back at her, and Adelaide kissed his cheek again, before turning and swishing out of the room. Louis ran a hand through his disheveled red hair, leaning back against his pillows and watching the sway of her hips as she disappeared down the hallway. A familiar heat crept up his cheeks and he grinned to himself. His parents and sisters often teased him about being in his honeymoon phase—he and Adelaide had been married for a month-and-a-half, now—but Louis was relatively certain that this so-called honeymoon phase was there to stay. He never tired of watching his wife, even when she was carrying out seemingly mundane tasks. She was absolutely mesmerizing.
It was ironic that Louis should find such contentment from watching Adelaide do ordinary things, as the circumstances under which they had first met could not possibly have been less ordinary. It had been at the funeral service of his godmother, Mimi, in France, three years previous. Mimi had been Louis's grandparents' housekeeper in Marseilles for nearly sixty-five years; she had been a second mother to Maman and Tante Gabrielle, and a third grandmother to Louis. But she had been chronically ill for two decades, and everyone close to her had known that it was only a matter of time—including her Healer at the time, Adelaide Moreau.
Louis had spotted Adelaide sitting in the second row of the church during the service—and the sight of her had filled Louis's heavy, aching heart with a fierce rush of cold fury. He had spent the rest of the service thinking very vicious thoughts about the young Healer, the woman he'd believed to be responsible for his godmother's death, who had failed in saving Mimi's life—who ought to have tried harder, done more to prevent Louis from experiencing such horrible, horrible grief.
At the end of the service, Louis had muttered a hasty excuse to his family, as they'd prepared to head back to the Delacours' mansion for the wake, and had instead followed Adelaide out of the hall and into the church's back garden, where he had found her standing next to a rosebush with her arms crossed. Gritting his teeth, Louis had stalked up to her and tapped her sharply on the shoulder, a million angry, harsh words rising to the tip of his tongue—but then, she had turned around, and every icy accusation had died in his throat.
Her big, blue eyes had been filled with tears, her expression crumpled. Louis had stared at her for a moment, an enormous lump swelling in his own throat. And then, without thinking—without planning it—he had stepped forward and pulled her into a crushing hug.
Their contact over the next year had been negligible, limited to the occasional letter—unfortunately separated, as they'd been, by miles of water and land—but then, during his grandparents' big, annual New Year's Eve party in Marseilles two year previous, Louis had kissed her for the first time, and had been duly rewarded for his patience. He was fairly sure that he had fallen in love with her that night.
Adelaide had moved to England in February, to obtain a job at St. Mungo's. She was currently wrapping up the final stages of her training; St. Mungo's was very strict about retraining Healers from abroad. Louis knew—although she would never, ever admit it to him—that Adelaide resented having to undergo a reeducation, and as a result, he went out of his way to show her how much it meant to him that she had moved to England at all. He had dragged Maman and Victoire to Jordan's Jewelers in April and spent an arm and a leg on what his mother and sister had declared to be the parfait engagement ring—and the look on Adelaide's face, three days later, had made it worth every knut.
Sighing contentedly, Louis tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position against his pillows—but something sharp kept poking his neck. Frowning, Louis lifted himself up and stared at his pillow. The corner of a green envelope was poking out of the pillowcase. Narrowing his eyes suspiciously (he briefly wondered whether Freddie or James had snuck into his bedroom to plant an exploding surprise, the last time they'd visited), Louis reached out and carefully extracted the envelope, turning it over. It was addressed to Mrs. Adelaide Marguerite Weasley, and its seal bore the St. Mungo's insignia of a wand crossed with a bone. Louis relaxed, leaning back against his pillows again; it was the results of one of Adelaide's recent qualifying exams. Absentmindedly, Louis opened the envelope and withdrew the slip of parchment inside, unfolding it.
He was still staring down at it nearly five minutes later, when Adelaide returned to the bedroom with the tea service balanced neatly on a tray.
"Bien, chéri, 'ere we are—oh."
Louis looked up from the parchment and stared at Adelaide, openmouthed. Her face had turned impressively white. For several, painfully long seconds, they simply looked at one another.
Then, Louis held up the parchment. "Pregnant?" he asked dumbly.
Adelaide bit the inside of her cheek, walking slowly to the bed and setting the tea tray down on his nightstand.
"Oui," she murmured.
Louis gazed at her. Then, he turned and looked down at the parchment again, his ears ringing.
"I know zat ze timing eez…wrong," Adelaide continued quietly. "We are young, and I—I am only just starting to do real work in ze 'ospital—and you are working vairy long 'ours at ze Prophet—"
"It—it says here that you're about six weeks along," Louis interrupted, and his voice sounded oddly far away, even to his own ears. "Is that—does that mean—?"
"Oui," Adelaide said in a hushed voice. "Our honeymoon, I theenk."
Louis stared at her, trying to digest this information—but it was proving quite impossible. His mind felt completely empty. There was a brief silence, as Louis turned to gaze down at the parchment in his hands once again, his heart hammering against his ribcage. One tiny word was glaring up at him, neatly printed, clear as day: Positive.
"I was going to tell you tomorrow," Adelaide whispered. She paused, swallowing. "Are you—are you not…'appy?"
Louis looked up, startled by the quaver in her voice. And the moment their eyes met, he felt a warm, fierce rush of affection well up in him. It was like seeing her for the very first time, like falling in love all over again. Louis's chest swelled with emotion, and it was a few moments before he found himself able to speak again.
"Of course I'm happy," he told her hoarsely. "Of course I am."
Adelaide's face burst into a luminous smile and with a strangled noise, she flung her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck. Louis slipped his arms around her waist and kissed the side of her head, and for several, long minutes, he simply breathed in her sweet, flowery scent and the warmth of her embrace.
Then, Adelaide pulled back, wiping the corners of her eyes with the sleeves of her robes. "Zis eez terrifying," she declared, with a slightly strained laugh.
Louis smiled, gently touching her cheek. "We'll figure it out," he promised. Then, he smirked. "Worst case, we can always get Maman to move in and babysit."
Adelaide narrowed her eyes. "Do not make me regret zis marriage already, Monsieur," she said sternly, waggling her index finger at him.
Louis laughed, catching Adelaide's hand and kissing it, and she smiled at him. There was a comfortable pause.
Then, Louis cleared his throat. "I wish…I wish she could have seen," he said quietly in French, gazing at Adelaide's stomach.
Adelaide closed her eyes. Releasing a slow, slightly shaky breath, she climbed onto the bed and sat back against the headboard, next to Louis. She was quiet for a few moments.
Then— "She will see, Louis," Adelaide responded softly in French. "If there is one thing that I have learned from five years of being a Healer, it is that…that the ones we love never leave us behind."
Louis looked up and caught Adelaide's eye, and she gave him a small smile. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nodded and drew an arm around her, pulling her close; Adelaide tucked her head against his shoulder.
Then, Louis reached out and laid a gentle hand on her stomach.
"Joyeux Noël, petit."
And to the Earth, it gave great light,
And so, it continued, both day and night.
—William Sandys and Davis Gilbert
Author's Note:
If anyone is interested in reading about Louis's godmother, Mimi, you can find her in Chapter 3 of my story 'Godparents.'
This chapter is dedicated to doctors and nurses everywhere. People often don't realize how much the passing of a patient affects them. Thank you for everything you do.
We're SO close to the end, gang! Christmas Day (tomorrow) belongs to the lovely Rosie, with the song 'I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.' Make of that what you will… XD
Ari
