Brody hadn’t told Fyo she was visiting Nova’s grave today. She knew that if she told him, he’d probably get upset, especially if she knew Brody was telling their daughter about who she was named after.

“Mommy….she has the same name as me.” The seven year old smiled, as she watched Brody put some flowers onto the grave.

“I know she does.” The blonde smiled at her little girl, encouraging her to sit with her. “This little girl was your daddy’s little sister.” Brody stroked Nova’s hair gently. “We named you after her.”

Nova smiled. “So I’m special right?”

“Yes.”

Sunlight was streaming into the room, through the wide-open window. Fyo was vaguely aware of Brody, who had come over the day before, tiptoeing about his room.

“You’re awake.” She looked up from the pile of books on his writing desk, which she seemed to have been inspecting.

Fyo sat up. “Um, Queenie?”

“Yees?”

“What are you doing?”

“Waking you up,” she giggled, setting down a dictionary and holding up a manga. “Have you read this?” She asked. She turned it upside-down, eyeing it. “I don’t think it makes any sense.”

Fyo chuckled.

“It’s read from right to left, Queenie.”

Brody giggled as she opened the present, staring at the socks. “Fyo….” She paused, looking at her best friend. “You brought me socks for Christmas?” Of all the lovely, beautiful fashionable things he could have brought her, he had brought her socks.

“I made them myself?” He asked, with a smile, reaching forward, to kiss her cheek. “They took me ages!” And he was totally not doing it again. Not for anyone. They were an original for the one and only Brody Summers.

“Is that why there is a hole in them?” Brody grinned, her pinky sticking out the hole.

No sane person could ever have doubted that Brody was beautiful, but she seemed to have outdone herself tonight. Her dress cascaded down in gorgeous waves, bringing out the colour of her eyes.

“I’m not gaping, am I?” Fyo asked her, grinning.

“I don’t think so,” Brody giggled. Then she added, “Gold looks so beautiful.” She sounded radiant as she inspected her friend, who was wearing some sort of sparkling, scarlet dress. “I’m so happy for her, baby.”

“Mm.” Fyo slipped an arm around his fiancée's waist. Brody would always be the most beautiful woman in the world, to him.

“Willow…” Brody smiled, as she rubbed her bump. That was a pretty name. It kind of reminded her of school. Reminded her of that tree that Fyo and she used to sit by, and just talk. When times were simple, and not so complicated. Now they were married, and expecting their first baby. Nothing was going to be simple again.

“You want to name our baby Willow?” Fyo grinned, as snuggled into his wife, kissing her cheek softly. He didn’t mind, but it sounded very unique. But then that was Brody all over.

“No….I was just thinking that it’s pretty.”

The cabinet rattled again. Wand aloft, Brody sighed. She’d faced boggarts before, of course she had. But she’d had a long day today, what with the paparazzi at her heels and everyone wanting to know all about her wedding plans, and she wasn’t looking forward to getting rid of one, right now.



“Love?”

Fyo stopped short in the doorway. Brody was curled up on a couch with a cup of tea, and he could tell something was wrong. “Queenie, what’s –”

She wrapped her arms around him. “There was a boggart in the drawing room cabinet.” That said it all.

Brody looked down at her salad, feeling that things were a little awkward right now. Their conversation had run dry, which had never happened before. It felt like their Frody team was falling apart.

As she looked up, Fyo leaned across the table pressing his lips against hers

“I love you.” Brody smiled.

“I love you.” There was no too at the end of that sentence. There was no need for it. He wasn’t returning the feelings. He had the exact same feelings.

Fyo kissed her again, lingering. “Let’s get out of here.”

Grabbing her hand he pulled her away.