"Elizabeth? I certainly didn't expect to run into you here. Are you back in Fontsarris for the holidays again?" Fleur was the first to break the slightly awkward tension.
Stepping forward with a polite smile, she said, "Thanks to your aunt's help a few days ago, my grandmother's magical herbs were successfully delivered to Beauxbatons."
The sharpness in Rosier's eyes instantly softened a fraction. She gave a slight nod. "It was nothing. Aunt Margot always says your grandmother is the most reliable herbalist in Fontsarris."
The two fell into a familiar conversation. It turned out Rosier's Aunt Margot and Fleur's grandmother were friends of many years. The girls had met a few times at family gatherings when they were little, but due to their young age and the few years' gap between them, they had never been particularly close.
Holding Julien's hand, Gabrielle tilted her head up to study Rosier with overt curiosity. "Are you a witch too, miss? Your clothes are so pretty!"
Amused by the little girl's innocent tone, the corners of Rosier's mouth twitched upward. She bent down and gently patted Gabrielle's head. "Yes, I am. Just like Julien and your sister Fleur, I go to a magical school."
Watching the atmosphere between Julien and Elizabeth quietly thaw, a flash of sly amusement flickered in Fleur's eyes.
She had naturally caught the undisguised care in Rosier's eyes whenever she looked at Julien, just as she had noticed how Julien's gaze subconsciously drifted toward Rosier whenever he spoke.
She smiled and suggested, "Since it's such a coincidence, why don't we walk around together? The Fontsarris Christmas market has some fascinating stalls, and Gabrielle hasn't stopped talking about making magical gingerbread."
Rosier hesitated for a split second, but catching the expectant look in Julien's eyes out of the corner of her vision, she finally nodded.
The group of four made for a lively bunch. Acting like a little tour guide, Gabrielle dragged them through the maze of stalls.
At the magical sweets shop, they shared mugs of hot chocolate that actually snowed tiny flakes over the rim. Gingerbread men danced around their plates, letting out crisp, chiming bell sounds when bitten.
At a handmade jewelry stall, Rosier picked up a starburst brooch inlaid with crushed diamonds, turning it over and over in her hands to admire it.
While she was hesitating, Julien had already paid the vendor for it. "It's beautiful. It'll go perfectly with that serpent brooch of yours—one cold and sharp, the other bright and dazzling. Consider it my Christmas present to you."
A faint blush crept onto Rosier's cheeks, and she ultimately accepted the brooch.
Fleur flawlessly played the role of the gentle mediator. She deliberately steered the conversation toward ancient texts and magical theory—topics both of them were interested in—watching as they went from initial stiffness to talking freely and eagerly.
When Julien brought up some of the more obscure books on celestial magic in the Hogwarts library, Rosier's eyes lit up with resonance, and she actively shared records of astronomical research from her family's private collection.
And when Rosier mentioned that despite being in the dungeons, the Slytherin common room had periscopes enchanted to observe the night sky, Julien enthusiastically described the stargazing platforms up in Ravenclaw Tower.
This highly amused Fleur, who was a few years older than them both, while also giving her a good understanding of what life at Hogwarts was like.
By the time the sun began to set, they had wandered through the entire market. Clutching a bag full of sweets and small toys, Gabrielle was slumped over Fleur's shoulder, half-asleep.
The four of them decided to rest at a local pub for a bit before meeting back up with the adults.
Led by Fleur, they found the legendary pub at the end of Tess Alley in Fontsarris: Le Chêne et le Gobelet (The Oak and the Goblet). Carved into the lintel above the door was an intricate, gnarled oak tree, with a verdigris-covered goblet nestled in a hollow of its trunk.
The pub looked small from the outside, but it was shockingly deep inside, as if the space had been quietly subjected to an Extension Charm.
The ceiling was low, supported by unpolished beams of centuries-old oak. Embedded in the wood were dozens of "breathing" firefly lamps. They weren't actual bugs, but rather small glass vials of luminescent potion that shifted in brightness and color depending on the patrons' moods: glowing a warm gold during laughter, turning a deep blue during quiet contemplation, and snuffing out completely if an argument broke out.
The bar itself was highly unique, fashioned from the split trunk of a fallen ancient oak. A natural hollow in the heart of the wood had been preserved and converted into an automated dispenser.
According to Fleur, if you dropped a silver Sickle into the hollow, it would pour out a drink perfectly suited to your current mood—whether it be the bitter "Ale of Regret," the sweet and smooth "Old Dream Butterbeer," or the searing "Duellist's Fire."
After entering, the group found a small table for four. The dark beechwood tables and chairs looked ancient but were polished spotlessly clean.
Though it was a pub, they also served non-alcoholic beverages suitable for underage wizards. The group ordered the house specialty, "Oak Heart"—a blend of oak sap and Butterbeer that was rumoured to enhance one's memory.
The pub was delightfully warm. Wizards sat in small clusters, sipping on foaming tankards of Firewhisky and chatting in low voices.
A few elderly wizards at the next table were swapping local gossip when the topic suddenly shifted to the abandoned old church.
"Did you hear? Someone saw green flashes of light in the church again last night," a wizard with a grizzled grey beard murmured, keeping his voice low.
"Oh, please. Those rumors have been going around for decades. People say it's the lingering resentment of the Muggles who left. If you ask me, it's just the wind playing tricks with the shadows on the windows," another wizard waved off the claim dismissively.
"But my cousin said he was walking past it late last week and heard strange whispers from inside. Sounded like someone was chanting an incantation."
"Stop making wild guesses. That place is creepy as hell. Who besides a lost Muggle would ever go in there?"
The group shared a laugh, and the conversation quickly moved on to other things.
Rosier held her glass, her fingertips subconsciously tracing the rim. "It seems the rumors about that church being haunted are common knowledge around here."
"Mostly just whispers, I'd bet," Julien said out loud, though his mind immediately flashed to the Moon Shadow Council member he had spotted earlier that day. Could that abandoned church be their hideout?
Fleur set down her glass, her eyes thoughtful. Naturally, she hadn't forgotten the grey-cloaked figure flashing past the alleyway, nor the thorny crescent moon mark on his arm.
"Perhaps, but there's no smoke without fire," she said, looking at Julien and Rosier with a meaningful tone. "However, since no one goes there anyway, there's no need for us to go out of our way to investigate. Safety first, after all."
Julien figured Fleur would definitely report this to Madame Maxime anyway, so he decided not to press the issue any further.
After all, they weren't far from Beauxbatons. No one in their right mind would deliberately provoke that giant of a woman.
The sky continued to darken, and the time they had agreed to meet up with the adults arrived.
The four of them stepped out of the pub into a fresh flurry of gently falling snow. Rosier's aunt's house wasn't far. Fleur, leading a sleepy-eyed Gabrielle, bid them farewell.
"If you have some free time another day, come by my grandmother's for tea. She has quite the collection of ancient magical picture books."
"Sounds brilliant. I'll definitely come," Julien nodded in agreement.
Rosier stood at the intersection, looking directly into Julien's eyes. Holding the starburst brooch he had given her, she said softly, "Thank you... for today."
"I'm the one who should be thanking you," Julien smiled. "I really enjoyed walking around the market with you."
A rosy flush spread across Rosier's cheeks. She turned and began walking toward her aunt's house, but stopped after a few steps and glanced back over her shoulder. "See you at Hogwarts. Oh, and when you finish reading that notebook about the Hogwarts foundations, give it back to me. I have some supplementary notes I can add for you."
"Not a problem." Julien waved goodbye, watching her silhouette until it disappeared at the end of the snow-covered lane.