Family

'I don't want them to come for Christmas!' my sister screamed, wheeling round to face our mother.

'They're family!' Mum shouted back. 'We always go there for the holidays, Victoire, or to my sister's house - it's about time we invited someone back.'

'It's about time we stopped acting like family was the most important thing in the world!'

I sighed. No one heard me. No one ever heard me. When I wrote to my favourite cousin, Rose, I always acted like my life was "totally fantabulous" (actually quoted by myself when describing the disastrous Christmas play at my school, Beauxbatons, last year). That was a lie. Both of them were lies. I loved going to my Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's house at Christmas, and Easter, and usually sometime in the summer holidays as well. It was always busy. Fun. Their children, Rose and Hugo, were there. The Potters, Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny and their children, James, Albus and Lily, were there. Occasionally there'd even be other family, too, old Grandma Molly who gave us sweets, or Uncle Charlie, or Uncle George, his wife, Angelina, and their own children, Fred and Roxanne.

Family.

I loved my family. I used to love Victoire the most. A few years ago, when Victoire was still at her school, Hogwarts, we'd cuddle up on my bed in the holidays, Victoire dragging her duvet over. Victoire would whisper secrets - how far she'd gone with her boyfriend, Teddy, what pranks she'd played on her teachers that term.

Yes, Victoire was always my favourite.

I was becoming less sure nowadays. I'd thought that if Victoire had a secret or a problem she'd come to me straight away. I liked that. Victoire's life always seemed so much more interesting than mine, what with her having a long-term boyfriend, and a job, and now she was old enough to do magic outside of school she could do all sorts of helpful and funny things with her wand as well.

She didn't bother doing them for me.

In fact, when she had something on her mind now, she tended to yell it to Mum. This meant I either heard from the other end of the street or had Mum mutter it to me, quietly, after Victoire stormed away in a huff.

Either way didn't suit me well.

The air was tense leading up to Christmas. Usually it was a lovely time of year. I didn't have to go to school - which I'll admit I had chosen myself after looking at Mum's old photographs, thinking it looked delightful, while sort of forgetting that none of my cousins went to it, only stuck-up people speaking French. I spoke it too, since Mum had taught me, Victoire and Louis while we were growing up. Even so though, I still found it a bit of a struggle when spoken all the time.

I also got to make Christmas decorations. As I listened to Mum and Victoire arguing yet again, in the kitchen where I desperately wanted some chocolate bread (pain au chocolat, chocolate bread, whichever you prefer), I tried to hang some more baubles on the tree. They kept sliding off.

I decided to take a risk and knock on the kitchen door. I thought I was being polite, but the looks from Mum and Victoire, Victoire in particular, obviously meant they didn't agree.

Then Mum relaxed. 'What is it, Domi?' she asked.

I fidgeted, uncomfortably. 'I want some chocolate bread.'

Mum did her best to act normal. She flicked her wand to bring the bread out of the cupboard, waited patiently as the knife chopped it up, and put me some out on a plate like she was utterly oblivious to Victoire's dagger stares from the corner.

They were directed at me as well as Mum.

'Can I - Could I -' I cleared my throat, trying not to squeak, anxiously. 'Could I have a little more, please?'

'Of course, darling.' Mum fetched me another slice. 'I wonder why you're so hungry today.'

I couldn't tell if this was a statement or a question. Victoire answered it anyway.

'Probably 'cause me, Dom and Louis were supposed to have started our dinner half an hour ago,' she said coldly.

'You were?' Mum glanced at the clock. She shrieked. 'Oh goodness! Your father's due back from work in twenty minutes. Oh, if his tea's not on . . . and he'll have had such a long, tiring day . . .'

I was quite offended that Mum was fussing over Dad more than us, but I just dawdled out of there, doing my best not to trip over our tortoiseshell kitten, Emy.

Victoire, as usual, couldn't let it go.

'Well, that's wonderful, Mum,' she spat, folding her arms. 'Real wonderful. Teddy, a guy who I might be moving in with soon, maybe even getting engaged to, in a few years, has asked me to go to his flat for Christmas. I'm nineteen, legally an adult in both the magic and muggle world. But no. I don't get to choose whether I want to make small talk with the family or have a romantic day with my boyfriend . . . my mother does.'

'This isn't the time, Victoire,' Mum said, fussing over some potato pies.

'It never is.' Victoire stalked out, barging into my shoulder on the way up to our bedroom. It was mine when Victoire didn't need it, and hers only when she was in a mood of some kind.

I didn't want to admit it, but that would be one upside of Victoire moving out of the house.

*

'Victoire, get down from that room now, or I'll bloody drag you myself!' Mum screeched up the stairs, as the doorbell rang for the first time that evening.

Christmas Eve.

Victoire trailed into the living room. She looked round at all the Christmas stuff, the twinkling tree, tinsel-covered everything, sprigs of holly hanging and even some mistletoe propped up above the front door. I sincerely hoped that no one would notice it. Not any men, at least. Or boys.

Even Victoire, at this sight, couldn't help smiling. I was still a bit scared of her from all the snapping, insulting and pillow-throwing I'd received from her the past few days. But when my sister came over and wrapped her arms round my waist, whispering an apology, I knew all that was over. At least for tonight.

'Victoire!' Mum hissed, eager to open the door. Dad laughed, putting his arm round her shoulders.

'I'm here, Mum,' Victoire grinned. I knew why. She thought it might be Teddy at the door. He was coming here instead of staying at his flat alone, so Victoire seemed to have spent the last forty minutes placing little daisies in her hair, blush on her cheeks and some subtle but amazingly beautiful make-up around her eyes.

I wished I could look that stunning.

It turned out to be the Potters, including Teddy, and the Weasleys all arriving together. There was a big huddle of adults hugging, kissing and telling each other how fabulous their new haircuts were.

James rolled his eyes at us. We sniggered. Then we started talking, to take our minds off Teddy and Victoire snogging very publicly indeed, an unfortunate habit they seemed to have acquired the moment they met.

'So what's that above the door?' James said suddenly, his eyes sparkling at the mistletoe. I gulped. 'Mistletoe!'

'That's probably infested with nargles, though,' I said quickly, remembering a ridiculous "fact" I'd learnt from a nice but rather insane family friend, Luna Lovegood.

'Yeah right, Dominique,' James grinned. 'You just don't want a kiss.' He sighed, making a disturbingly good impression of being heartbroken. 'Well, if I can't have you . . .'

'Don't look at me!' Rose snapped, going red.

James grinned more. 'Louis?' he said.

We all burst out laughing, making our parents, aunts and uncles look around in surprise.

Then they started laughing too.

Family.