More butterflies join until the clearing is awash in their glow. They swirled around us like a living constellation, flickering in and out of the shadows, their soft light mixing with the pale glow of the moon.

I reach out a hand, careful not to disturb them, and one drifts close enough that I can feel the faint brush of its wings against my skin. The sensation is so light, so fragile, that it feels like a whisper. It was at this moment I knew it was our moment.

Reaching into my pocket, I retrieved a small box and present it to Fleur.

A smooth, luxurious navy-blue fabric wrapped the gift box, with a soft surface to the touch. A satin ribbon of the same deep hue is tied around it in a perfect bow, its edges catching the light with a subtle sheen. It sat comfortably in her hands.

As she gently untied the ribbon, the ends slip loose, falling away from the box. Fleur lifts the lid, which opens with a faint, satisfying click, revealing the interior lined with plush midnight-blue velvet. Nestled against the dark, velvety cushion is the pendant—a silver butterfly, its wings adorned with shimmering blue crystals that seem to glow like the twilight we had witnessed earlier.

The pendant caught her eye immediately. She placed the box back in my hand before cupping the pendent in hers. The delicate silver filigree of the wings was intricate, almost lace-like, and the butterfly appeared to be in mid-flight. There was an engraved message on the underside of the wings. One side was elegant and flowing, while the other was smooth, but unrefined. It read:

"'Papilio cor meum. Semper tua.'," Fleur whispered, as she turned so her back faced me. She then swooped her hair from her back, giving me access to her nape, and handed me the pendant. "I'm getting a bit cold. Hurry up, will you?"

Stumbling with my words and the clasp of the pendant, I shimmied closer to her. The silver butterfly pendant gleamed softly in the moonlight. The pendant felt cool to the touch. Gently moving the baby hairs on her neck, her pale nape was left exposed for me. I could feel her smiling.

With a quiet click, the clasp opened, and I slowly brought the pendant around her neck. The silver chain slide effortlessly against her supple skin, resting lightly on her dainty collarbone. As I fastened it, I felt the light tension in my fingertips disappear as we heard the soft click.

Returning to my spot and her to hers, the sapphire sat perfectly against her skin. The blue gemstones caught the light with every subtle movement she made. She looked down, her fingers instinctively finding the pendant, her eyes sparkling. She lifts her gaze, meeting mine.

"Beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Thank for this evening."

"I can't take all the credit. The girls helped me set it up," I whispered.

"I know. I can see their fingerprints all over this. Except for the food. That was all you," she said as she gently caressed my right cheek. "You aren't the most emotionally and socially intelligent boy I've met. But you do have your charm."

She took her hand away and gazed at me expectedly. I took a deep breath. Breath in. Breath out. Relax and let it flow.

"Thank you for sticking with me. I know I'm not the most attractive or funny. But I am definitely smart. Not in the emotional spectrum, but you get what I mean," I said as she chuckled. "Each night, I fall asleep with a smile on my face. Just the thought of seeing you again tomorrow makes me happy. In every scenario of the future, I imagine you're always by my side. And in each of scenarios, it starts tonight. Fleur Isabelle Delacour, will you be my valentine?"

...

"Valentine?"

"Shit!" My head hung low. "I meant to say 'my date to the Yule Ball?' Will you be my date to the Yule Ball?"

"Yes, I would love to."

"I'm sorry I messed up the moment."

"I think I'll remember this moment, and tell our grandbabies about this moment," Fleur said as gazed into my eyes.

Saturday, December 24, 1994

Bed Chambers

16:30 PM

Percival Ebonwood's POV

Steam clung to the mirror, fogging it completely, as water dripped from my hair onto the marble floor. I wiped my right hand across the glass, clearing just enough to catch my devilishly handsome reflection. My face had a rosy red tint to it since yesterday evening. I wrapped a towel around my waist, tucking the edge securely at my hip, so it doesn't drop like last time. But this time should be like last time. I made sure to lock the door securely, so nobody entered while I was in the shower room.

The soft glow from the bedside lamp that I received on my fourteenth birthday spilled into the hallway as I stepped out of the bathroom. Parchments and old tomes. The familiar scent of my room was mixed with the faint trace of the soap the girls had introduced me to. But something felt… different.

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The desk — it was clean. Unusually clean. The papers that had once cluttered its surface were neatly stacked, my coffee mug gone, and the quills arranged with unnerving precision. I had my own system, but this was unusual, but not something to worry about. It just meant the house-elves had tidied up. However, that only happens the day before the start of each term.

That's when I noticed it.

There, on my neatly made bed, sat a box. It was large, around 60 centimeters long, 30 wide, and 20 tall, wrapped in smooth, unmarked paper. Next to it lay a plain white envelope, the corners crisp, untouched. The sight of it sent a ripple of curiosity through me. I was not expecting a package and was not expecting it to be important enough for the house-elves to deliver it directly to me.

I reached out, picking up the envelope. My name was scrawled on the front in a familiar hand, one that made me pause. The next issue of 'Transfiguration Today' was not due to be released for another nine days. Very curious.

'Dear Lord Ebonwood,

The Triwizard Tournament Committee would formally like to congratulate you on your first round display. It was an exquisite display of prowess, intelligence, and co-operation. Thank you for putting on a show.

As a token of appreciation, the Triwizard Tournament Committee and its sponsors are gifting and your partner matching outfits for tonight's festivities. We have asked fashion icons and experts seamstresses for the best outfit for you and your partner. Unfortunately, accessories are not included. We hope you do like the chosen outfits.

Yours sincerely

The Triwizard Tournament Committee'

So she wrote on behalf of the committee. Cool! I placed the letter on my bed and turned my attention to the box. As I lifted the lid of the box, my breath caught still for a brief moment. Inside, draped in folds of deep, luxurious fabric, was a suit fit for a royal. The first thing that struck me was the colour—a brilliant, sapphire blue. The coat was long and elegant, its fabric shimmering faintly in the dim light. Gold embroidery twisted along the lapels and cuffs like frost-kissed vines, catching the flicker of nearby candlelight.

Beneath the coat lay a waistcoat of the same midnight blue, embroidered with the same golden flourishes. Buttons of polished brass gleamed down its front, each one carefully engraved with the insignia of House Ebonwood. But it was the shirt beneath that whispered of the evening ahead. Pure white and adorned with ruffled lace at the collar, it spoke of refinement and grace. The cascading folds of lace at the throat and wrists were soft as snow. The shirt seemed almost designed for the moment when the clock would strike six, and eyes would turn to him.

The breeches ended just below the knee with neat rows of gleaming buttons, tailored perfectly to match the suit. They were made for movement, for grace, for the kind of steps one would take across a ballroom floor under chandeliers and under moonlight.

I stood there for a moment longer before closing the box. I still needed to get ready before choosing my clothes for tonight, but it appears the choice had already been made for me. The committee probably wanted us to look immaculate when they broadcast it around the world. A breeze brushed my damp skin, sending a shiver down my spine. I glanced toward the window—slightly ajar, curtains shifting softly in the evening air. I could swear I closed it before I went for breakfast.

Feeling the cool draft seeping into the room, I picked up the box and the letter and walked towards the desk. Placing the items on the desk, I reached over and pulled the window shut with a dull thud. The latch clicked into place, and the room instantly felt a little more sealed off, quieter.

As I turned back, something caught my eye. A faint shimmer in the corner, right above the window frame.

"Are you serious?" I groaned, narrowing my gaze at the culprit. There, clinging to the upper edge of the window, was a sprawling network of spider webs, delicately gleaming in the soft light.

"Merlin, damn it," I spat out, reaching closer, realising just how much webbing had accumulated in that corner. Thin strands clung to the edge of the frame, swaying slightly in the breeze that had just been sealed off.

"Of all the—" I started, but quickly stopped. Where there was a web, there was—

"Ah, fuck!" I spotted it. The spider.

Perched in the middle of the web was a fat, glossy creature, its legs unnervingly long as it sat there, still as stone. My skin crawled as I locked eyes on it. It was mocking me with its eight beady eyes staring back at me.

"Morgana's saggy tits, how long have you been here?" I said, stepping back with disgust.

I frantically scanned the desk. "Wand? Wand?! Where the fuck is my wand?"

My heart raced as I glared at the spider, my skin prickling with every second it remained motionless, its beady eyes seemingly watching me right back. The damn thing wasn't even moving, and yet it was winning, its tiny legs still outstretched like it had been there for weeks, claiming my room.

"Not today, you little bastard."

My eyes darted to the desk again, and then I spotted it—the stack of papers I'd been meaning to toss weeks ago. I snatched a couple from the pile, rolling it into a baton as I inched closer. My heartbeat thumped and for a moment, I thought about just leaving the room, maybe burning the room down, or something equally reassuring. But no. This was my room; I am almost naked, and this thing had the audacity to move in without asking.

"Alright, you little fucker," I whispered, almost as if the spider could hear him. "It's you or me not sleeping for the next couple of days. And I've been needing a good night's sleep."

With one almost swift motion, I lunged forward, slapping the paper baton against the web. The force of it shook the frame, and the spider jolted, finally springing into life. For a second, my heart dropped as it skittered along the web's strands, faster than I had anticipated.

"A fast one! Shit!"

I recoiled, waving the baton like a farmer with a pitchfork. The spider zipped into the far corner. Inching closer to my chair, I climbed on top to gain a few more inches. For a second time, I wound my arms backs, and aimed. Slowly bring the baton closer to the spider, I readjusted my aim before letting loose.

Pulling away the baton, I see half of the legs attached to the baton while the others joined the blood spatter. I jumped off the chair with a grim satisfaction. The satisfaction you could only get when committing a heavenly kind of sin. I saw the legs twitch once more before they curled onto itself.

The room was still. Peaceful. Free from intruders. I leaned against the desk, letting out a deep sigh. The window was shut. The spider was dead. The world felt right again.

But then my eyes fell back on where the box had been. "There you are!"