Christmas Day 1999

The Burrow was eerily silent that Christmas Eve night, or to be more technically correct - Christmas morning. It was just after 3 am and George was still wide awake working on brainstorming a new product by the dim light of the lamp on his disk in his childhood bedroom. The sleeping draught he'd been prescribed had been working wonderfully over the last few weeks, but he'd neglected to pack it when he, Charlie, and Verity had arrived for dinner the night before.

At his last appointment, his mind healer Suzan advised him to busy himself whenever he was beginning to feel anxious or on nights that he couldn't sleep. Rather than ruminating on thoughts that would cause him to spiral, it would be better to occupy his mind with something more productive.

So that's what lead him to designing a product in the middle of the night he neither knew how to get working or if it'd ever leave the preliminary planning stage at all. But it was the first time in quite a while that he actually felt somewhat inspired to make anything and he didn't want it to go to waste.

The alternative was laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, wondering what Eloise was dreaming about right now, considering whether or not he should have gotten Alicia a gift, thinking about how he was going to have to celebrate yet another holiday without Fred, contemplating sneaking back to the flat in the middle of the night and skipping Christmas with his family all together. Scribbling random notes and sketching on a scrap piece of parchment without a doubt seemed like the much healthier option.

At some point in the night George had dozed off at his desk, only to be woken up by a sharp knock at his door and the sound of his mother's voice behind it.

"Happy Christmas, darling! Breakfast will be ready soon!"

All George could muster was a sleepy groan, as he felt the pain in his shoulders and spine from being hunched over his desk for hours. But Molly didn't seem too concerned with his lack of a response as he heard her footsteps grow quieter as she descended the stairs to return to the kitchen. When he glanced over at the clock on the opposite wall, it read seven thirty. At most George had gotten four hours of sleep, and he certainly felt like it.

After failed attempts at working out the painful kink in his neck, he dug through the small trunk he'd packed the night before, pulling out an old green sweater and a comfortable pair of jeans to change into. The top he chose didn't really matter much as Molly would make everyone change into their newly knit jumpers by the time lunch rolled around.

When he made his way down into the kitchen, he found a pot of tea already made so he silently poured himself a cup as his mother focused on the eggs and bacon she was preparing for the family. Despite his recent wakeup call, it seemed that most of his siblings were still lingering in their respective rooms trying desperately to get that extra five minutes of rest in before a long day of celebrations. Even though the Burrow was mostly quiet, George still heard two distinct laughs coming from the lounge that he never thought he'd hear together.

Out of curiosity, he made his way across the hall and into the living room, finding Verity and Fleur sitting next to each other on the couch, wrapped in blankets and laughing together about something. George couldn't help but find the scene quite confusing. For as long as he could remember the two of them couldn't stand one another. But maybe their mutual friendship with Eloise was what helped bring them together, that or the fact that they could now bond over being disliked by Molly.

"Speak of the devil." Verity said to Fleur as she gestured towards George.

Fleur flicked her head around to face him with a smile, "Jouyeux Noël, George."

Before he could ask what kind of gossip they could possibly be whispering to each other so early in the morning, Ginny entered the room still wearing her pajamas with her hair in a messy ponytail. After the youngest Weasley let out a long drawn out yawn she looked over to Verity and Fleur and seemed just as confused as George was to see them getting along so well.

"Ah, Ginny! Maybe we should get her opinion." Verity smiled devilishly.

"On what?" Ginny asked.

"Given the choice between Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, which would you pick?" Fleur asked innocently.

Ginny shrugged as if the answer didn't need any consideration, "Hogwarts obviously."

Verity nodded, "Okay, so between a dry old scone and a delicious chocolate eclair, which would you pick."

"Uh, the eclair I guess."

"Good choice." Verity nodded as Fleur let out a snicker beside her, "This one is the most important, ready?"

"Sure." Ginny replied cautiously with a raised eyebrow.

But on the other end of the living room George was standing there gripping his mug so tightly his knuckles had turned a ghostly shade of white. It didn't take a genius to realize what the two blonde women on the sofa were implying. The day has just started and if this was any indication of how the rest of the day would go, he would have definitely snuck back to his flat in the middle of the night.

"Who do you like more, Alicia or Eloise?"

Once Ginny realized the game they were playing she decided she didn't want to entertain them any longer. Instead, she simply left the room and climbed back up the stairs.

Feeling rather abandoned, George decided to leave the lounge before the remaining women could turn the conversation back on him and ruin the rest of his morning. He made his way into the kitchen, quickly finishing his tea before deciding to start some dishes for his mother while she finished cooking breakfast.

About five minutes after abruptly leaving the lounge, Ginny came back down and walked into the kitchen wearing an old jumper, jeans, and a baggy coat that was once one of Ron's.

When George glanced over he saw her holding two broom sticks, shoving one of them towards him without a word. His eyes flicked back and forth between his sister and the broom as he dried his hands with a tea towel.

"Are you just going to stand there?" she asked impatiently.

"Are you mental? It's freezing out."

"So wear a coat." she retorted as George finally took the broom from her hand.

Without giving him the opportunity to object again, Ginny was already making her way out of the kitchen door and into the back garden towards the Quidditch pitch their dad had built years ago.

Looking over his shoulder, he realized his options were either potential frostbite or getting the third degree from Fleur and Verity when his mother called everyone into the kitchen to eat. The choice was easy, so he grabbed his coat and knit hat from the nearby coatrack and hurried outside to meet his sister.

"Breakfast will be ready soon! Don't be out there long! And for Merlin's sake, do not get frostbite!" Molly called after him as he trudged through the thick snow.

In the distance he could see Ginny hovering on her broom about ten feet off the ground tossing a quaffle up in the air to kill time as she waited for him.

When she heard the crunch of snow beneath his boots her head flicked towards him, "Come on then!" she shouted.

George mounted his broom and kicked off the ground to meet Ginny's height as she tossed the quaffle to him.

"How have you been?"

"Rubbish. Didn't sleep a wink." he responded, tossing the ball back to her.

"Me neither."

"Too excited for Father Christmas to drop by?" George asked with a smirk.

"I'm not eight years old, George." she laughed, throwing the ball back at him a little harder this time.

"Eh, you still look about eight to me." he grinned as he caught the quaffle against his chest.

"Yeah, but I can beat you up like the eighteen year old I actually am."

"I'd like to see you try, short stack."

Ginny laughed and held her arms out for him to toss the ball back at her, and when he did she quickly tucked it under her left arm and flew up before sending it straight through the rickety old hoop Arthur had built.

The two of them silently circled the pitch for a few minutes, letting the freezing cold December air prick their skin. But when Ginny came to a stop near the ground George could tell something was on her mind.

"Everything okay, Gin?" he asked as he flew down beside her.

"Yes and no." she responded with a slight smile, but there was still a sense of sadness in her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Ginny turned to face her brother and let out a sigh, seeming to try and decide if it was really worth it to tell him what was going on.

"Harry and I split up. I thought I was doing okay, but I think it's just now sinking in that we won't be spending Christmas together."

George's eyes widened before even realizing he'd reacted at all. Until now he didn't give a second thought as to why the boy who lived wasn't sitting inside the house right now. For all he knew he'd decided to spend the day with Teddy and Andromeda and was planning to drop by later, but in hindsight his absence made much more sense knowing they weren't together anymore.

"When did it happen?" he asked before he could prevent himself from prying.

"Back in October."

"What.. why-" he was stumbling over his words before he stopped himself, "I'm sorry, forget I asked. I know it's none of my business."

"No, it's okay. We were just fighting a lot. He wasn't in a good place mentally after everything, you know. Plus we honestly probably rushed into things a bit too quickly after I left school and I think it freaked him out." she paused as she looked at her older brother, "I really did try my best to be there and help him, but he decided it was better for us to break up."

George felt like there was a specific reason why Ginny was being so open about this with him. She and Harry seemed almost like a mirror image of himself and Eloise. The only difference was that Ginny was there to witness every single moment that slowly broke Harry, while Eloise met George after all the damage had already been done. Maybe she wanted his advice on how to approach Harry, or maybe she just wanted to vent to someone who could possibly understand.

"Where are you living?" he asked.

There were a million questions swirling around his mind but for some reason he landed on that one first.

"With Luna. I didn't want mum to think I was a failure."

"You're not a failure, Gin."

"Neither are you."

Deliberately choosing to ignore her words, he decided to keep focusing on her instead of letting the conversation shift to himself, "You can live in the flat. Charlie's at Verity's half the time so you can sleep in his room, or we could clean out Fred's old room."

"No, it's okay. I like staying with Luna, she keeps me on my toes."

Rather than arguing, George simply nodded, "Are you sure you're doing okay?"

Ginny shrugged her shoulder, "It's hard, but I feel like I'm slowly starting to accept it. I still write to him about once a week just to check that he's doing alright, but he doesn't always answer."

"I really don't think it's you that's the problem, Gin. I sort of know how he's feeling."

"I know you do."

George pressed his lips together and gave her a small nod. As much as he hated it, it was still clear to everyone around him that he hadn't fully moved on from everything that happened in the war.

"Are you mad at him?" he asked, but at this point he couldn't tell if he was asking for Ginny's sake or to try and gauge how Eloise might be feeling.

"I'm upset with him and at the same time I'm not. I understand where he's coming from, I just wish he understood that I love everything about him that he seems to hate right now."

"It's just hard to believe you're deserving of love when you're that low. It feels like you're going to fuck everything up just by existing." he muttered.

Ginny gave him a sympathetic look as she decided to change the subject, "How's everything with Eloise?"

"I feel like you already have a guess." he replied, letting out a chuckle.

"Feeling a bit like Harry?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Sort of, yeah."

"Were Verity and Fleur being serious when they asked about Alicia? Have you been seeing her or something?"

"Yeah, I mean we're not getting back together if that's what you're asking. We're just trying to rebuild our friendship. Having her around reminds me of how my life was before Fred died, and that can't really be a bad thing can it?"

It was almost as if he was begging his sister to justify his actions but the look on Ginny's face let him know that she didn't fully agree.

"I don't know George, she did a lot of bad things near the end. And I know it's none of my business, but sister to brother, I do like Eloise a lot more."

George couldn't help but roll his eyes, "It was never really a competition, but I'll keep that in mind." he paused before clearing his throat, "It's just... scary, I guess. Everything with Eloise, I mean."

"If you're scared, I can almost guarantee you she's scared too. Love is hard enough on it's own without all the other rubbish making it even more complicated."

"Eloise doesn't love me." he shook his head adamantly.

He couldn't quite decide if he wanted her to love him or not, honestly. The idea of her being in love with him after all the times he'd screwed up made him feel awful, like he'd committed some sort of crime that deserved a life sentence in Azkaban. But at the same time, imagining her loving him filled his chest with so much warmth it almost made him forget that his fingers had nearly gone completely numb.

"Either way, just try to be gentle with her, okay? I've been on the other side of it. Before you say anything I know you are hurting, I know the war turned your world upside down. But there's always going to be someone who wants to take care of you. Both you and Harry, and not just me and Eloise either - mum, dad, Bill, Ron, and everyone else. We all care about you."

George gazed at his sister with furrowed brows for a moment before quickly landing and dismounting his broom.

"Oi, where are you off to?" she called after him.

But George was already out of earshot as he rushed back inside, setting the broom by the door and tracking wet footprints through the kitchen as his mother scolded him. Molly had tried to mention something about breakfast as he passed by, but the man had other priorities in mind.

Once back in his room he quickly pulled out a piece of parchment, writing quickly and barely legible if he was being honest with himself. But that didn't matter to him at the moment. After putting his final touches on it, he left his room and made his way one floor up to the room where Ron and Hermione had been staying.

Near the window George's eyes feel upon exactly what he had been looking for. A small hyperactive owl flicked it's head towards George and stared at him with large brown eyes.

"Hey, Pig. Take this to Eloise for me, would you?" he asked as he held out the envelope for the small bird to grasp with his talons.

With a tiny hoot and after a quick lap around Ron's room, the small Scops owl made his way out the window George had just opened and set out on his journey to France.

-

Christmas morning in the Laurent household went as to be expected. Although Eloise did set herself up for a bit of disappointment by expecting that George might have thought to send her a gift or at the very least a card. But when she awoke that morning she saw gifts from Molly, Maxwell, Verity, Bill and Fleur, and nothing from the tall redhead she'd been pining for.

At least she hadn't made a fool of herself by sending him the gift she'd gotten for him several months ago, that was still pristinely wrapped and closed away in the drawer of her desk in Shell Cottage.

But she didn't want to let that ruin her day. She happily wore the dark navy jumper with a large white 'E' on the front that Molly had knit for her and sprayed herself with the lavender scented perfume that Bill and Fleur had gifted her. Verity had gotten her a brand new bottle of ink which was very similar to the navy one she regularly used, but instead this one had gold shimmer throughout making even the most mundane letters and diary entries look quite posh. As for Maxwell, he had gifted her a quill set that she already owned but it was the thought that really counted. At least she had a back up set now.

The kitchen was heavily fragranced with dark chocolate and sugar as her mother prepared the Yule Log for dessert later in the afternoon while Eloise busied herself by chopping chestnuts to add to the stuffing that would be served with the roast pheasant at dinner.

Being in England for so long almost made her forget all the little things about being home that she loved.

Every morning her mother would go to the bakery just down the road for a fresh loaf of bread and made sure to pick up a chocolate croissant for Eloise every time simply because she loved them so much as a child.

Eloise was adamant that her father made the perfect cup of coffee, truly no one did it better than him. Each morning he and Eloise would sit across from each other in the lounge, both rereading one of the dozens of books they'd read countless times but never got tired of. Every day they enjoyed each other's silent company until Colette called them into the kitchen for lunch.

It was a routine she had missed terribly and honestly made her really consider staying at home for good.

But there were other things that reminded her that she really had been away for quite a while, things that made her feel like this wasn't really her home anymore.

On the first afternoon after arriving, she decided to visit the bookshop she used to work in before moving to England. But when she stepped inside she realized the previous owners had sold it to a young witch who had reorganized the entire layout of the shop as well as painted the interior with gaudy colors. None of her old friends worked there anymore and it almost felt like she had walked into the wrong store.

On her third night home, she reached out to a few acquaintances from Beauxbatons that she had lost touch with over the last few years. When they met up for dinner nearly all of them had gotten engaged or moved in with their boyfriends, one of them was even pregnant. While she was happy for each of them, all it did was make Eloise feel like quite the failure in the love department. When they asked if she was seeing anyone she tried to brush them off and say she had been casually dating but nothing serious had come from it yet.

Lost in her thoughts, Eloise accidentally nicked herself with the knife and let out a gasp. She quickly placed her finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding as she rushed towards the sink. Her mother paused on the cake as she watched her daughter hurry across the kitchen.

"Eloise, tu es blesseé?" Colette asked her daughter with concern in her voice.

"Non, je vais bien."

As Eloise reached for a nearby tea towel to wrap around her finger, a tiny owl tapped on the kitchen window. With it being Christmas, Eloise didn't put much thought into why an owl would be showing up so suddenly but she also prioritized finding a bandage for her finger over checking the mail.

Looking over her shoulder, her mother seemed to read her mind as she set down the whisk and wiped her hands on her apron before walking towards the window. Eloise, on the other hand, quickly made her way down the hallway and into the bathroom where she could finally bandage up her finger properly.

When she came back into the kitchen her mother had already resumed the cake, pouring the chocolate better into a long thin sheet pan before flicking her wand towards the oven door to open it up.

"La lettre est pour toi." Colette said as she glanced up to her daughter.

Eloise brought her attention back towards the window sill and saw 'Elle' scribbled messily on the envelope. She let out a sigh before reaching for it. She would recognize that handwriting anywhere. As much as she had wanted to hear from George for weeks, now that he'd finally sent something to her she was almost too scared to open it. It felt like an endless cycle of disappointment with him.

But she knew if she didn't open it her mother would have questions. So, taking in a deep breath, she pulled the seal of the envelope open and a sudden burst of blue and purple confetti shot out of it causing Eloise to yelp and drop it on the floor. Colette's eyes were the size of saucers as she saw the colorful paper litter her beautifully pristine white kitchen.

Eloise burst into laughter as she bent over to pick up the letter. Cautiously, she unfolded the paper as if she was expecting another surprise, but instead she was only met with George's messy handwriting.

'Elle,

Happy Christmas (sorry about the confetti)

I just wanted to write and say I'm sorry. Sorry to you and to Maxwell. I know this apology should have come weeks ago, I got this idea in my head that you needed space but I think I was just using that as an excuse to avoid the issue. I also know that sorry means nothing when I keep screwing up, and as much as I wish confetti could fix all of our problems, I know it doesn't (but I hope it helped a bit)

I'm honestly just rambling now... but if you're interested, Verity is planning a New Year's Eve party at the flat and I'd love for you to come, bring Maxwell too. I know what happened at the shop basically went against everything we agreed on when it came to being friends and me letting you go, so I want to make it up to you.

I'll play nice, I promise.

See you soon hopefully,
George'

Had this letter come right after she left England, she may have honestly considered his invitation. But the only problem was that Verity had already beaten him to the punch.

On the surface that didn't seem like a big problem, it was Verity's party after all, not George's. The root of the issue, though, was that George had carefully neglected to mention Alicia at all in his letter. Verity, however, was very clear in her invitation that she should bring Maxwell because George had begun to spend time with Alicia again.

That information alone shouldn't have really bothered her given the fact that she'd been spending a fair amount of time with Maxwell as of late. But that didn't change the fact that it still stung. What hurt the most was that George had reassured her numerous times that he didn't have feeling for Alicia anymore, and yet he still felt the need to hide the fact that he had started to spend more time with her lately.

If it was purely platonic, what was there to hide? If he really wanted to turn over a new leaf, why couldn't he be completely honest with her?

The thought of the four of them together in one room seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. So, as Eloise quickly retrieved a piece of parchment and dipped a quill into her new bottle of ink, she decided to keep her response friendly yet brief.

She thanked George for the letter (and the confetti) but deliberately chose to ignore his invitation. Instead, she simply wished him a Happy Christmas and told him to thank his mother for the jumper she knit for her.

With a gentle stroke on Pigwidgeon's head and after sneaking him a small piece of bacon left over from breakfast, she held out the letter for him to grasp onto and sent him back on his way to the Burrow.

Eloise had many decisions to make over the next week. Would she be brave enough to ask George why he didn't tell her about Alicia? Would she change her mind and show up at Verity's party? If she did, would she bring Maxwell?

But most importantly, would she stay in France for good?

Only time would tell what would happen in Eloise's story. As one year was coming to a close, so was a difficult and sometimes painful chapter of her life. So much good had happened to her in 1999. She started her dream job, her best friend had a baby, she became closer than ever to Verity, she met Maxwell. But there was also an unfair share of heartache sent her way.

Hopefully there would be some light and love for Eloise in the new millennium.

-

A/N: I've said it once, and I'll say it again: if I ever screw up any French in this book please don't hesitate to correct me hahaha 😅

Also shout out to jacindacharles for helping me brainstorm ideas for this chapter (and for listening to me constantly ramble about George and Elle in general hahaha) if any of you love Remus Lupin definitely go check out her fic 'Panacea'

Love you all and thank you so much for all of your support on this fic 🧡