The cottage had been completely transformed come winter. The flowerbeds had long since frozen over, replaced by nothing but a heap of snow. Icicles hung from the thatched roof, glinting in whatever sunlight was able to seep through the clouds above them. Through the window a beautiful decorated Christmas tree could be seen, its lights seemed to warm the whole house.

Oriane stood next to Esme, trunk in hand, and feet deep in the snow. It had been several months since she had last seen her home. She wanted to say it felt welcoming. She wanted to say it felt nice. But it felt quite the opposite. As soon as she stepped through those doors, she knew something was going to happen.

If she was brave enough, she would make something change.

"Come on then," Esme urged her. She still donned the silly sunglasses she had worn to Diagon Alley. They looked especially out of place during winter time. But she could at least cover her hair with a warm hat and make it seem normal. "Let's get inside. We can start cooking dinner!"

And so the girls were off, trudging their way through a good layer of snow before coming to the front door. Warmth enveloped her on the first step she took inside. A roaring fire made its home on the hearth, and the house smelled strongly of cinnamon.

Oriane made a beeline to her room, opening the door. It was much colder than the rest of the house, cut off from the warmth of the fire, and far down the hallway. Her room didn't smell of cinnamon. It didn't smell of anything at all except old books and stale air. She set her trunk on the foot of her bed and opened it up to reveal the clothes she had packed for the holiday.

She spent a long while sorting her clothes, putting them into the near empty drawers of her dresser. A thin layer of dust covered just about everything in her room. Her nightstand, her windowsill, everything except her bedsheets. They smelled of fresh cotton, something that was no doubt Esme's doing.

A knock came from the other side of the room. Oriane turned to see Esme, standing in the doorway. She had changed out of her ridiculous clothing, and instead wore what she normally did. A simple pair of trousers and a blush pink shirt. Her hair still radiated despite the darkness of the hallway behind her, and she beamed as she looked at Oriane.

"Did you want to help me with dinner?" Esme asked. "I've got an idea for a nice meal. Of course, it won't be too big as I'm saving most of the food for Christmas, but I thought maybe we could roast a chicken? I also got some potatoes for mash!"

Icy eyes turned away from Esme as Oriane turned her attention back to the clothes in her trunk. Her throat felt tight, and it burned so bad her eyes began to water.

"Yeah. I'll be out in a second," she said, voice hardly carrying across the small room.

She continued to sort her clothes, refolding any that had gotten messed up on her trip home. Esme continued to stand in the doorway for a moment, eyes going dull as she watched the young girl work.

"Alright," Esme said softly, "I'll go ahead and get started then."

Esme vanished from the doorway, her footsteps going quiet as she walked down the hallway. In a fit of frustration Oriane paused and ran her fingers through her hair. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to snuff out any hint of moisture as she took a deep breath.

After long consideration, she finally left her room, meandering into the kitchen where Esme was hard at work. While her back was turned, Oriane instead wandered into the living room. The fire still danced brightly, and it lit up the small pictures on the mantel. Her as a child. Opening presents on her birthday with Esme. Her parents, along with Harry's parents, and Esme right in the middle of them all, smiling brightly at the camera.

She quickly turned away and went into the kitchen to help Esme as she said she would.

One sided chatter began to fill the room as Esme worked. She updated Oriane about everything she had missed while she was away at school. Her promotion to a different floor at St. Mugo's, how she had to fight off a boggart that had resided within her closet. But none of it really stuck in Oriane's mind. It all came in through one ear and then out the other.

Eventually the food was done and the table was set. Full plates sat on either side of the table as Esme and Oriane sat down for dinner. Esme was quick to dig in.

"Remus sent me a letter saying that he's very impressed with your work at Hogwarts," Esme said with a smile. "And you've gotten perfect grades for the semester as well! It's a relief to see you're adjusting well to the school."

The mashed potatoes on Oriane's plate began to move around as she kept prodding it with her spoon. Her eyes were focused so intently on the table it was as if she was staring right through it.

Esme coughed.

"Though I did hear about the dementors boarding the train on your ride there," she pressed on. "And they appeared again at one of the quidditch games. I couldn't imagine how scary that must have been, but I know my faith in Dumbledore wasn't misplaced. It's a relief to see how well he took care of the situation."

Still, nothing.

Esme's smile became more difficult to hold, and she found herself setting her silverware down next to her plate. "Are you not hungry?" she asked.

Finally Oriane's eyes looked up, landing right on Esme. Terrible, icy eyes that grew red lining her waterline.

"Why did you really send me to Hogwarts?" she asked, voice so painfully sharp it could cut skin.

Esme stopped for a moment, taken aback. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You kept me from a proper school for two years because you didn't trust the professors. Suddenly, Remus comes along and now it's fine to attend. I didn't think one professor would sway your decision that much."

Her voice was calm and calculated. Something she never thought she'd be in a million years. The very thought of disagreeing or confronting Esme made her want to puke. Yet there she was, demanding her attention as if it were nothing.

"Remus is a trusted friend," Esme explained. "I felt much better with you attending while he was teaching."

"Because you didn't want me here, right?" Oriane finished. "You said so yourself. Hogwarts is the safest place on earth. It would be the perfect place to keep me should Sirius Black come after me to try and finish the job he started all those years ago."

Esme's face went ghost white. She leaned forward onto the table, folding her fingers together. "What are you talking about?" she asked. But she already knew the answer. "Sirius has never tried to attack you before, he's been in Azkaban for several years."

"No, but he got my father killed, didn't he?" Oriane asked, her voice beginning to shake. "And he told You-Know-Who about my mother. How she was a Seer. He'd have every reason to attack me if I show even the slightest sign that I'm like my mother, wouldn't he?"

A silence fell between them, filled only by the crackling of the fireplace in the living room. Esme wore an expression Oriane had never seen before. What was it? Sadness? Guilt? Anger? Maybe it was a mix of all three.

"Who told you?" she asked softly.

"No one told me," Oriane mumbled. "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Overheard the Minister of Magic speaking with a few of my professors. I pretty much got the whole story." She paused for a moment as her anger began to rise in her throat. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did I have to learn this by overhearing strangers in a pub?"

Once more they fell silent. As she awaited a response, Oriane finally recognized the look on Esme's face.

It was regret.

"Because I didn't want your parents' deaths to overshadow your life," she admitted. Her voice shook so terribly it caught Oriane off guard. It was something she had never heard from her before. "I didn't want any of it to come back to you. How your father was some brave warrior, or how your mother was a Seer. It shouldn't have meant anything.

"But I was stupid to think I could pretend it didn't. I know that. But a part of me wanted to protect you from that. I didn't want you to have to worry about whether or not you were going to be killed, or if you'd get visions like your mother. I just wanted you to be you. Not the daughter of Alarick and Varity. But Oriane Morissette."

"Well it's a bit late for that," Oriane retorted. "All I've been since I've gone to this school is someone's daughter. It's all I'll ever be. I know you want to erase the past, or protect me from it but…"

She paused. A sudden and terrible reminder came to her mind. Her eyes softened, and she turned her attention away from Esme. She couldn't stand to look at her while she said it.

"But do you want to erase the past for me, or for yourself?"

Esme's hands began to shake, and she took them off of the table and shoved them into her lap. "What do you mean?"

"I know he had a hand in killing my parents and the Potters, your friends, but what did he do to you?" Oriane demanded carefully.

"He didn't do anything," Esme said, shaking her head.

"Please," Oriane begged. "Esme, I can't handle anymore lies."

The first tears started to roll down Esme's face as she looked away from Oriane. Though her face was still pale, her nose and cheeks began to turn red.

"Your parents meant the world to me," she sniffled. "Your mother was my only real friend, and your father was the only boy in the whole school who wasn't trying to snog me. Eventually your mother befriended Lily Potter, and by proxy, I also got close to her and James. And of course wherever James went, Sirius was sure to follow.

"When we graduated, your parents and a few others joined an organization with Dumbledore to stand up to Voldemort. I refused to follow, thinking the whole thing was madness, but Sirius vowed to protect them. And I believed him.

"And then your father was killed by some Death Eater and Sirius seemed… legitimately torn up about it. And then a week later on Halloween, your mother asked me if I would take care of you for the day. You were still just a baby. Later that afternoon she was killed. You were without your parents, and only me to protect and take care of you. Sirius came here and… and he promised to help me raise you."

Confused, Oriane leaned in closer, resting her arms on the table. "That doesn't make sense. Why would he want to help raise me?"

Esme smiled. A shaky, quivering lip smile.

"Because we were engaged."

A terrible pain erupted in Oriane's chest as she held back a sob. It was as if someone took her heart in the palm of their hands and attempted to squeeze out all of the blood.

"What?" she asked, nearly failing to get the word out.

"His family hated me. Said a filthy half-breed like me would ruin their family lineage. They were nothing but a lot of terrible blood purists," Esme said.

"Don't call yourself that," Oriane choked.

"But Sirius wanted to marry me anyway," she continued. "And I begged him time and time again to leave the war, but he wouldn't. He told me living in fear was no way to live at all, and that he wanted to build a better future for everyone.

"But then your father was killed, and so was your mother. And when the Potter's were murdered… I knew. We all knew that he was a traitor. I felt stupid and ashamed for ever loving him. But that made it hurt more.

"Voldemort was a terrible man. His Death Eaters were terrible people. When it comes to terrible men, you can expect them to do terrible things." She paused for a moment, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "But when it comes to those good men, the ones who you love and trust… well, it's a different type of grief when they betray you."

Who was that woman in front of Oriane? The one with the red eyes? She couldn't recognize her. Her body was the same, but it was as if it had been emptied. Gutted and replaced with someone different. As if she was just a mere shell of who she used to be.

Despite it all, all Oriane could do was look at her and mutter the words, "I'm sorry."

Esme shook her head, a bitter smile on her lips. "You shouldn't be the one apologizing. The world has handed you a rough hand before you were even old enough to hold the cards."

They sat staring at one another for a long moment. Their food had long since gone cold during their conversation. But that was the least of Oriane's worries. An all consuming thought crossed her mind. A terrible reminder that there was something she needed to share too.

"Esme?" Oriane choked out. She couldn't bring herself to look at her. "What were my mothers visions like?"

Esme thought for a moment, sniffing back any new tears that attempted to fall. "Well, I can't say for certain, but from what I remember… she explained it like it was a dream. Sometimes she could force a vision to come, though it wouldn't be about anything in particular. Other times, the visions seemed to find her. She knew just about everything. She knew your father was going to propose before even he did. Nothing could surprise her."

Oriane nodded, then swallowed hard. "I've been having visions like that."

There was hardly any change in the emotions on Esme's face. It was almost as if she had expected her to say that. "Have you told anyone else?"

"No. I tried telling Remus but… that didn't go so well," Oriane said, shaking her head.

"Good," Esme nodded. "It's probably for the best that we keep this between us. Your mothers strength lied in the fact that very few people knew of her ability. I think your safety lies in secrecy."

Lying by omission was still lying. And that was Oriane's least favorite thing to have to do. She liked to think of herself as a good person, but how good are you if you lie to your friend's face? She had already done it so many times, but how naturally it came to her scared her.

But she knew Esme was right. If word got out, and Sirius Black heard it, what would he do? He had already broken into the castle once. It was obvious he was willing to go through dire lengths just to finish the job that was started all those years ago. Him learning her secret would only fuel that fire.

"Thank you. For telling me all of this," Oriane said, wiping at her eyes.

"Of course," Esme said in a near whisper. "I only wish I had told you sooner."

Oriane didn't know what else to say. If there even was anything else to say. And so she sat there on her side of the table, staying silent, feeling the loneliest she had ever felt.