Falling For

Christmas Eve was Noël’s birthday, although that must be a given to be said, right? I had made us a cake, and after we had visited his parent’s house we returned to the cottage to share it over a bottle of red wine. He was smoking his cigarettes as we looked out into the front street, sitting on the small cushioned area that connected with the window with my legs over his. It was like old times, minus the wine. He was tipsy and I was content – it was nice.

“Are you happy to be with me?” His accent was thick with English now, an oddity for me being used to his pious French. I looked over at him as he sipped his wine and his face turned into a tired smile.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Sitting up properly, I leant on my knees to look carefully at him. I came to the conclusion that Noël was a deep and meaningful drinker.

“It must feel bad to be away from George.” He sat up as well, pulling down his sweater. My lips twitched and I took a slice of cake with my tiny fork.

“Well, yes. But I like being here. It’s a home to me.” I smiled back at him and he touched his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Thank you for coming. It does get lonely around here.” He stubbed out his smoke, the blue seeping from the glass ashtray.

“It’s okay, Noël. I’m glad I came. Surely you wouldn’t be spending your birthday alone if I wasn’t here?”

“Probably.” His mouth turned into a grin. “I can’t stand my parent’s house this time of the year – all the relatives bore me to death.”

“I understand.” I sniffed a laugh at him and he rested his wrists on my ankles. “But I’d much rather be here on your birthday than with George. No one should be alone on their special day.” He took a raspberry from his plate, chewing on it timidly.

“Did you ever think,” he sighed at me, his blue eyes slinking towards closing “that if you and George never got back together that maybe you and I---“ he stopped “Maybe… I don’t know what I’m saying.” He looked out the window and I followed his gaze, two elderly people wandering down the middle of the street in rugged clothing. I watched the two walk side by side, almost casually towards the grave yard located at the end of the road.

I withdrew my legs from his and his hands fell empty on his knees.

“Please don’t tell me you invited me to live here so you could attempt to woo me.”

“Of course not.” He scoffed at me, almost horrifically appalled at my behaviour. “Definitely not. You’re happy with your boyfriend, why would I even do something like that?”

“I don’t know. Ask yourself, you brought it up.” I crossed my legs. He looked tiredly at me, rolling his eyes.

“Because I’m curious. I’ve always been curious, Mignon.” There was his accent again, making my name seem more beautiful than I had ever seen it before. “Aren’t you curious?” He downed his wine, probably worrying about the outcome of the conversation.

I had never thought about it – what Noël would have been like as a lover. His soft hands had cured me of my sickness – would they be different in a romantic sense? The way he smelt of old, yellow-paged books and bitter coffee, and his startling blue eyes that always made me feel like I was something. The way I was headed all those years back I could have fallen in love with him, and everything he was was probably more than enough than I could have ever wished for.

But George… it was always George.

“I had no intentions of bringing you here to ‘woo’ you. I like you being around, you are a friend to me.” Clarifying himself, he crossed his legs and poured himself more wine. “But I feel that if I had spent more time with you, I would have fallen in love with you.”

“I know.” I breathed, the same feeling returning from that night in the common room I shared news of George and I’s reuniting - the look on his face, the scolding from Florence, the tearing of my heart. “I understand. I think the same.”

“I’m sorry.” His cheeks tinted a light shade of pink. “I think I’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

“It’s okay. I’ve just never really given it much thought, Noël. I’ve been too wound up in my own little world too much to think about anything.” I looked over him and his faint smile, taking in his relaxed demeanour and beautiful poise. “I know what you mean, Noël, but George is the only one for me.”

“I understand, Mignon, I have always understood. Even when you had broken up I knew he was the only one for you. I don’t think I could ever match him anyway.” He took another raspberry and gingerly ate it.

All I could do was smile softly at him, leaning over to give him a light kiss on the forehead. He sighed, straightening up, taking my head in his hands and kissing me between the eyebrows before sitting me back down.

“I think it’s time for bed.” His lips had shaken my perfectly placed perception. It was terrifying. My thoughts broke as he stood up. “Goodnight Mignon, I will see you in the morning.”

My fingers found the bridge of my nose. “Night Noël.”




I woke up with a slight headache and a heart full of guilt. What I had said to Noël the previous night made my stomach sick and it took me a full five minutes to pull myself out of bed.

Toddling to the lounge room in my pyjamas, I found Noël writing an owl at the desk by the kitchen. He looked up to see me and smiled awkwardly, gesturing to the kitchen.

“Tea supplies are under the first cabinet.” He noted and I nodded, cuddling myself from the winter outside. Christmas morning seemed very dull this year –the snow outside looking painfully bright against my almost melancholy mood.

Noël cleared his throat.

“They think Harry Potter’s been here.”

“What?”

“This morning a wreath of Christmas Roses were found on the Potter’s grave, down the road.” He stood up, stretching his body and skimming his fingers through the air. The thought of the Potter boy still being alive brightened my mood substantially. “I went to buy the paper early this morning and Rosetta told me. No one has owned up to it, so we’re all taking a wild guess it was him.”

‘That’s good.” I beamed, slipping into the kitchen with a smile on my face. “They will be so happy to know he’s still alive.”

“Those old people we saw last night… do you think?”

The idea clicked into my head and planted itself firmly in my thoughts.

“Maybe.” I wandered off for a moment, only pausing myself to think back. “But there were only two of them.” Noël’s head turned to look at me and I forced my mouth to shut. “Never mind, I can’t count this morning.”

“What time are you leaving to go to George’s?” He asked curiously and I poured milk into my cup.

“Probably soon, actually. Have to pack up gifts and what not, but yeah, soon.”

He did look very beautiful in the dim light of morning. My heart fell and I gripped myself again. All I could bare to think about was how odd it was between us now that we had faced the buried truth about our somewhat difficult relationship. Living with him was going to be different than what I had expected. Long story short, my heart felt like it was made of stone. I knew I had to tell George.

Giving Noël a quick smile, I claimed my tea and fled upstairs to my bedroom.