Akashic Records
patreon
Harry Potter Squib Tales Chapter 37
🕑 Added 2024-05-10 17:00:04 +0000 UTCChapter 37: Welcome to Paris!
“So, this is France,” Harry said, looking around curiously.
“Technically it’s an airport luggage claim,” I said with a chuckle. “But yes, it’s in France.”
I then made a grand, sweeping gesture. “Welcome to Gay Paree. Birth place of the obnoxious smoker, obnoxious fashions, obnoxious cheeses, and the baguette. The latter of which is their only real contribution and achievement.”
“Maybe don’t say that stuff out loud,” Sam muttered to me, seeing the way various froggies were glaring at us as we walked out to find a taxi.
“What are they gonna do? Surrender to me?” I scoffed.
But still, I decided to follow Sam’s advice and tone down my Britishness, at least for now. I had a head full of French jokes and they were going to be made, one way or another.
The flight had been great. Well, as great as can be on a morning flight in Economy class. But still! It worked out. Lots of fun, if not a lot of leg room.
“So? What did you guys think of your first flight?” I asked them.
“Eh, beats walking,” Sam said with a shrug. “Wish the seats were more comfortable, though. And it wasn’t my first flight, either.”
“Oh, right, yeah, your family went to Spain a couple years ago,” I muttered. “Well, how about you, Harry?”
“It was interesting, but I think I prefer broomsticks to planes when it comes to flying,” Harry admitted.
“That so?” I inquired.
“Yup. I really enjoy flying. The feeling of freedom is great! And being Seeker was a lot of fun, too. I’m looking forward to it next year,” Harry said excitedly.
“Seeker?” Sam asked, and Harry happily explained the rules of the ridiculous sport to him while I tried to hail a cab.
‘Can’t wait until smartphones and Uber kick your asses to the curb,’ I thought morosely as yet another vehicle zoomed past, not even bothering to slow down as I waved my arms like an inflatable tube-man.
We did eventually flag a taxi properly, and it took us straight to our hotel. A Hilton, near the downtown, was where we’d be staying. I’d splurged, using some of my gambling money to pay for a nice room for each of us. We’d spend the two weeks in France in style!
“Do we have to declare ourselves to the French Ministry of Magic?” Sam asked as we headed into our hotel’s lobby.
“Nope. You and I aren’t wizards, and Delilah isn’t a witch. We didn’t come here via a magical method, either. Add in the fact that Harry is a minor, so as long as he doesn’t use any magic, he should be fine,” I replied.
“Okay,” Sam said, though he clearly looked nervous.
“It’ll be fine! Tomorrow, we’ll go out and see some of the sites in the non-magical side, and visit the magical equivalent of Diagon Alley, which I’m told have some very interesting magical monuments.” I told my two companions. “There’s even supposed to be a magical section of the Louvre, which I’m interested in. I got tickets for the mundane side as well. That’s for Sunday, though.”
“That does sound like fun,” Sam said, smiling a little at the thought.
“What are we going to do with the rest of our day?” Harry asked curiously. It was mid-afternoon, with plenty of time to spend before dinner.
“There’s a few places we can tour in the area,” I assured Harry. “Don’t worry, I made a list.”
And boy did it make me miss the ease of access to information the internet provided back in my old world. Looking up stuff to do while on vacation in the early 90’s required a ridiculous amount of work, and a lot of it involved going through books, maps, and whatever other resources the local libraries might possess.
“You invited Delilah, right? When will she get here?” Sam asked curiously.
“Monday,” I said. “She’ll be able to meet up with us then.”
“Glad to hear it. You two are cute together, the way you dance around your feelings,” Sam said, smirking at me.
“Hush!” I grunted. “It’s not like that!”
“Yes, it is,” Harry drawled, and I reached over and messed up his hair in retaliation. Not that that was very hard, given how wild his mane of black hair was.
“You guys,” I chuckled fondly. This was going to be fun. I just knew it!
&&&&&
Sadly, we did not manage to make it to Rue Magique, the Parisian version of Diagon Alley, on Saturday. We were too busy touring the non-magical side of the city that we never found the time.
We saw a lot, though. We climbed the Eiffel Tower early in the morning, had lunch at a café across from Notre Dame, and then of course toured the famous cathedral where the Hunchback had once lived and rung bells all the livelong day.
And no, he wasn’t a real figure. He was, for once, an entirely fictional character made up by Victor-Marie Hugo. Something I was relieved to find out. I’d been half worried I’d been descended from the Hunchback of Notre Dame.
After all, my birth-family in this world was called ‘Hunch’ and the magical side of things was both uninspired when it came to naming things and a bit too laisse-faire. I mean, who the fuck thinks it’s okay to name their offspring ‘Erroneous?!’ So it hadn’t been beyond the pale for an ancestor of my family to be that famous figure.
Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, and I didn’t have to be worried about the logistics of such a ridiculous origin.
Besides that, we took an evening stroll through a portion of the infamous Catacombs. It was creepy, and there were a lot of ghosts down there. I was glad Sam couldn’t see them. Harry and I soon envied him. There’s only so long you can stand to be shouted at in archaic French by a bunch of rotting plague victims before it becomes tedious.
Today, however, was Sunday, and that meant it was time for a trip to the Louvre! Getting the tickets had been a bit of a hassle, but well worth it. I had a feeling we’d be in there for the whole day.
“Good afternoon,” an usher said in accented English as we entered the Louvre shortly after it opened. “Do you wish for any guides or pamphlets?”
“I would. Can I get one for the regular side of things, and another for the ‘special’ tour, as suggested by Beauxbatons?” I inquired, speaking the code words for getting into the magical side of the museum.
“Of course,” the usher said with only a slight tilt of the head to acknowledge my words. “Anything else?”
“Where’s the entrance to the magical exhibits?” Harry asked curiously, eyes shining as they darted around, and the usher smiled a bit at his excitement.
“There’s a special door you can take at the Pavilion de l’Horloge,” he said helpfully. “You can’t miss it.”
We thanked him, and after he gave us the two guides for the museum tours, we began our exploration.
The Louvre was massive, and I was glad we’d slated the entire day to explore it. There was a lot to see just in the mundane sections!
“Apparently, the Mona Lisa is unfinished,” I muttered to myself as I read the pamphlet for the magical side of things as we observed the famous portrait. “It was supposed to be turned into a magical portrait, but a series of events resulted in there being no payment for it, leaving him with the painting in his possession.”
“So, was Leonardo Da Vinci a Squib?” Harry asked curiously.
“Leonardo Da Vinci wasn’t a magical or even a Squib, just plain Muggle. But back in the day, before the Statute of Secrecy, it wasn’t uncommon for mundane craftsmen to work alongside magical ones. After all, someone has to make the base item for enchanted artifacts,” I explained.
“Really makes you wonder how different things could have been, if we hadn’t been forced to separate like this,” Sam muttered.
“Agreed,” I said with a nod.
The whole Statute of Secrecy thing had been a bit of an overreaction, in my opinion. What, exactly, did the Muggles of the 17th century actually do to harm the magicals?
If the wizarding community had really wanted to hide themselves they’d have done it at the start of the Spanish Inquisition. Or maybe earlier when Christianity started to get too big for it’s britches.
Seriously, the magicals were so far above the rest of the world at the time that they didn’t need to go into hiding. A few spells to isolate their more vulnerable communities would have worked just fine. And they were already doing that in most cases! And even if they were hunting down magicals in Europe, the continents of Asia, Africa, Australia, and the America’s were pretty much doing just fine, if not better. Mages were respected on the other continents.
The magicals of the world could have made themselves indispensable to a burgeoning Industrial Revolution, but instead had decided to eff off. The equivalent of a kid on the playground complaining the other boys weren’t playing nice, and then running home with the ball so nobody else could play. Sure, one of the other kids was throwing rocks, but that didn’t mean the rest of the playground had to suffer!
Short-sighted selfishness. That was what it was, in the end. That, and irrational fear and paranoia.
And it had only gotten worse in the decades and centuries since.
I shook my head to dispel the morbid thoughts on wizardly stupidity, and with a bit of Occlumency to stamp it down, focused instead on the beautiful artwork on display.
“Her eyes really do follow you,” Sam muttered, weaving his head back and forth.
“Weird,” Harry agreed softly.
“You got to a school with ghosts and living paintings,” I scoffed.
“Yeah, but that’s magic. This is pure talent,” Harry replied, peering at the portrait intensely.
‘I wonder if Harry has found a hobby for himself,’ I thought idly.
Eventually, we had to move on. Even early in the day there were still enormous crowds, and we could only spend so long at each section without being pushed or shoved.
After touring the entire mundane section of the Louvre, or as much as we’d been able to do, we stopped for lunch, and prepared to enter the magical artwork section of the museum.
“Oh! Sam, before I forget, here, you may need these,” I said, pulling out a glasses case which I passed to him. Sam opened it, revealing a pair of glasses with thick horn rims. Runes had been scribbled onto the frame.
“Those should let you see through any magical barriers we come across,” I told him as he put them on. “And if we come across any Muggle repelling wards, you can lay a hand on Harry’s shoulder and it should be enough to get you through. If that’s okay with Harry, of course.”
Harry bobbed his head rapidly, confirming that yes, it was fine if Sam had to use Harry to navigate the magical side of things.
“Huh, that door wasn’t there before,” Sam muttered, squinting at the door that led to the magical side of things.
“What did it look like without the glasses?” I asked curiously.
“I just saw a sign that said the artwork was removed for restoration, and I felt the urge to move on and look at something else,” Sam frowned. “But now I can clearly see that there’s no sign. Just a door.”
“Interesting,” I hummed. “Can you get any closer without Harry’s help?”
Sam stepped forward, and found that he didn’t feel the urge to turn his attention to a different exhibit. He told this to me, which I found fascinating.
“Now, that is very curious,” I mused. “Is the Muggle Repelling Ward weak enough to be broken if the Muggle actually has the ability to see through it, or is this just a different variant that doesn’t have the repellent aspect, and just obscures the vision?”
“We can figure that out later!” Harry said, grabbing me by the hand and dragging me towards the door. “Come on, I want to see what else there is!”
“Okay, okay! No need to pull so hard on my sleeve,” I chuckled, letting Harry lead me towards the magical exhibits.
Walking through the door was like stepping into a magical wonderland, and that was no joke. I felt like Alice after falling down the rabbit hole. Everything was just so in your face with the magic and enchantments it was surreal.
It also proved my theory that Magical Britain was boring as fudge – both the Minister and the candy – because I’d never seen anything like this in Magical Britain.
There were elegant fountains made of gold that shot rainbows into the air, and delicate castles of spun sugar that floated through the air. Statues of famous witches and wizards winked, nodded, and even chatted with passersby, animated in a similar way to the living portraits that I was more familiar with. They had those too, of course. Animals made from precious metals and stones wandered about in a petting zoo-like enclosure, and of course there were a bunch of old and famous models of broomsticks, which had Harry’s immediate attention.
Sculptures that had been carved out of blocks of stone by thousands of cutting and piercing hexes stood next to artwork with magical paint that changed what was shown based on the mood of the person viewing it. Unique metal work, such as a wand made of brass and goblin silver, was on display beside the last known Celtic Druid staff in existence, which was an old, crooked stick of oak, worn smooth in places by hands and fingers.
There was also a vast collection non-magical items, such as a tea set from China that had been used by an emperor, a quill and ink pot owned by the famous artist Michelangelo, an original copy of the Gutenberg Bible, and stuffed creatures galore, from dragons to Nundus to unicorns and much more besides.
This was truly an astonishing sight that put the magical side of my homeland to shame. The old families and Ministry horded all the cool stuff, and I couldn’t think of a single museum or open to the public exhibit from the magical world in the UK. One would think the London museum would have a secret magical section like the Louvre did, but no.
I was glad that we were able to see this. I know they left the good stuff out for the tourists to gawk at, but it was still nice to see examples of magical craftsmanship.
And speaking of tourists, while this place was not as crowded as the mundane side, it was still packed.
“Pardon,” I said for the umpteenth time as I bumped into somebody while trying to navigate the exhibits.
“Non, it was my fault,” a heavily accented voice replied in English, and I nodded absently, before pausing. The voice… it sounded familiar…
I turned to look at the person I’d just bumped into, and blinked in surprise at what I saw.
Ever since coming here, I’d not seen anybody who looked like their movie counterparts. Harry didn’t look like Daniel Radcliff, and from the descriptions Harry and the Weasleys had given me, Snape did not look like Alan Rickman. Which was a shame.
But here and now, the woman I’d run into looked a whole lot like Fleur Delacour from the movie version of Harry Potter, albeit younger. Her voice, too, sounded remarkably similar.
She blinked at me, noticing my attention, and suddenly, her features seemed to wobble and she didn’t look like Fleur’s actress anymore!
The general shape of her face was the same, but her hair was much more golden and there was a spark of something in her eyes that wasn’t entirely natural. There was also a look of… boredom? No, apathy. She was used to people staring at her.
Immediately, I realized what was happening, and clamped down on my mind, forcing Occlumency barriers to the fore. The familiarity I’d felt towards her faded, and I was able to tell that she did not look like the actress at all. It’d been an illusion!
‘Veela allure!’ I thought to myself. I knew that the innate charming ability of a Veela was magical in nature and made them look attractive, but I didn’t know it could make a person feel like they knew somebody!
‘A defense mechanism?’ I wondered to myself as I regained control of my mind. ‘Perhaps the allure ability makes people feel comfortable around them as well? Or maybe it’s because she’s is young? An unconscious sexual attraction aura would be bad to have as a child, so maybe when they’re growing up, they generate a feeling of familiarity instead? It’s still useful, and certainly would help keep Veela children safe…’
I trailed off, realizing I was staring at her, and winced, with a flush of embarrassment crawling onto my face.
“Apologies for staring, you look like somebody I knew once,” I said, bobbing my head in her direction.
The Veela blinked at me, a flicker of surprise dancing through her eyes, before she frowned, suspicious.
“I see,” she replied slowly.
“Fleur! Did he see through you?”
It was now my turn to blink in surprise, and I looked down, spotting a young girl holding onto the older Veela’s hand. I hadn’t noticed her earlier. But now I did.
‘And did she call her ‘Fleur?’’ I wondered. It could have been a coincidence…
“Not now, Gabi,” the teenager hissed, causing the younger blonde to pout.
‘Nope, it’s definitely them,’ I realized. I’d just run into Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour. I think Fate might have it out for me.
“Hey, Ed, what’s the hold up?” Sam asked. He and Harry had gone on ahead without me, only to circle back when they noticed I wasn’t with them.
“Oh, sorry, I just ran into these two and wanted to apologize them,” I explained, gesturing to the duo. I saw the way Sam and Harry both seemed to do a doubletake as the Veela’s aura of familiarity washed over them.
Harry was able to recover first, his own Occlumency skills better than Sam’s, despite both of them learning it at the same time. Sam took a bit longer, but I wasn’t sure if it was due to his modified glasses or something else.
“Harry Potter?!” Gabrielle squealed as her eyes locked onto Harry, specifically his scar, and Harry winced a bit at that.
“Um, yes, that’s me,” he admitted.
“I’m Gabi!” the young Veela exclaimed, rushing over to grab Harry’s arm. It was adorable to see him become flustered at the contact, and a giggle escaped Fleur.
“I keep forgetting you are supposed to be a celebrity or something,” Sam said to Harry.
“Me too,” I muttered. In my mind I was berating myself for that oversight. Just because we were overseas didn’t mean nobody would know about Harry. Even if Voldemort had been limited to the UK, his infamy had spread across Europe, and quite a few foreigners who believed in his ideology had crossed the Chanel to join up.
It was only natural for Harry’s fame to spread once word of Voldemort’s defeat became known and Dumbledore spread the story that Harry had been the one to beat the Dark Lord, despite being a baby. And he was the only person to ever survive the Killing Curse. That alone would have made Harry a curiosity to the magical folk of the world.
‘I need to find out how well-known Harry is before we travel anywhere else in the future,’ I thought to myself. ‘I wonder how many people would recognize Harry without a disguise in America?’
“You are Harry Potter?” Fleur asked incredulously, looking down at the younger boy.
“Did you really ride a dragon?!” Gabrielle asked, still clinging to him.
“I should get cards printed,” Harry sighed to himself. “They’ll say ‘Hello, I am indeed Harry Potter. No, nothing that was written about me is true. Please don’t stare at my scar, and stop asking if I’ve actually ridden a dragon before. Have a nice day.’”
I snorted at that. “Yeah, why not, could be funny,” I said. “Could make a good Birthday present.”
“What are you doing here?” Gabrielle asked.
“Vacation,” Harry replied, looking a bit uncomfortable with the young Veela’s proximity.
Thankfully, Fleur noticed, and helped untangle her sister from Harry’s arm. “Do not be rude, Gabrielle,” Fleur said, scolding her sister as she pulled her back to her side.
“But Fleur! It’s Harry Potter!” the little Veela whined.
“That is no excuse,” Fleur tutted, and Gabrielle pouted but eventually nodded.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled to Harry, who accepted it graciously.
“It’s fine. I’m still getting used to the whole ‘being famous’ thing,” the Boy-Who-Lived chuckled weakly.
“Really?” Gabrielle asked, tilting her head to the side cutely like a baby bird.
“I was raised in the Muggle side by my relatives. I didn’t know I was magical until I was ten,” Harry admitted.
“I see. It must have been quite the surprise,” Fleur guessed, and Harry nodded.
“So, why are you two here? Are you also enjoying the museum?” Harry asked.
“Non, Papa is a curator here,” Fleur revealed. “In fact, a number of artifacts here were donated by him.”
“Really?” Sam asked, and Fleur nodded.
“When he was younger, he used to be a Curse Breaker for Gringotts,” she explained.
“Zats how he met Maman!” Gabrielle said with a wide smile.
“That’s quite interesting. I have a friend who’s also a Curse Breaker,” I said, thinking about the eldest Weasley. “Small world.”
“Do you go to Beauxbatons?” Harry asked curiously. “I mean, I don’t want to assume, but…”
“I do indeed go to Beauxbatons,” Fleur said. “I will be a fifth year in ze coming semester.”
‘Huh, so she’s close to my real age,’ I noted. ‘Makes sense, then, since she was at least seventeen during the events of the Goblet of Fire.’
“I’ve heard a little bit about it from Ed, but what’s it really like?” Harry wondered.
“At Beauxbatons, we follow ze curriculum style zat Hogwarts pioneered,” Fleur explained. “Zat is to zay, we have seven years of schooling, starting at ze age of eleven, and our courses are about ze same, though I believe we have a few more classes to be taken in third year and beyond.”
“Really?” Harry asked. “No Houses? How does that work? Do you still have points?”
“Oui! We do not have ze House System, but ze professors do assign students points for good work and behavior outside of classes. We can use ze points to check out extra books from the library, leave school grounds to visit family or stores, or spend time in ze private baths.”
“You can’t take as many books as you want from the library?” Harry asked. Under his breath, he muttered, “Hermione would hate that!”
“Non. You may only check out a single book at a time. But you may look at them as often as you like while you are in ze library. It is to encourage students to earn points, but also to teach zem how to take notes, as well as budget time and resources.”
“That’s actually an interesting idea,” I mused. “I don’t like it myself, too limiting, but it does seem like it would force students to try harder.”
“At least it is better than Durmstrang,” Fleur huffed. “There, you must earn points if you wish to eat or bathe at all!”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that,” I muttered. The darkest of the Big Three magical schools of Europe had a lot of nasty rumors floating about. It only accepted ‘Purebloods,’ meaning muggle and halfborn in Scandinavia and Eastern Europe had to go elsewhere for their inevitably lesser education, and there were tales about students having to literally fight each other for basic necessities like beds.
“They actually do that?” Harry gasped. At his side, Sam and Gabrielle were just as surprised.
Seeing their shocked expressions, Fleur explained. “At Durmstrang, students are only given ze most basic of commodities and facilities. Group showers and sleeping, less than pleasant food, and so on. If a student wants to have better accommodations, they must obtain and spend points. And points are earned through grades, good behavior, as well as extracurriculars. They can also be gotten through wagers. A student can bet points they own and duel another student for them. Winner takes all.”
“And I thought the Hogwarts system was bad,” I muttered, disgusted.
“There is a reason Durmstrang is not looked well upon by ze rest of Europe,” Fleur sniffed haughtily. “And it is not just because it is as Dark as ze bottom of the sea. Its education standards are terrible!”
She shuddered in disgust at the thought, and I nodded in agreement with her assessment. Fleur recovered a moment later, plastering a smile onto her face.
“But that is sad talk! We should do something else.”
“Yes! We can show Harry around ze exhibits!” Gabrielle said excitedly. “We know all ze best ones!”
“I don’t want to intrude,” Harry said softly.
“It’s fine, we’d be happy to show you around,” Fleur said. She then glanced at Sam and me. “If zat's alright with you?”
“I don’t see a problem with it,” Sam said and I shrugged.
“A tour guide who knows the place sounds like an excellent idea,” I agreed, and Gabrielle squealed happily and then rushed over, latching back onto Harry’s arm.
“This way! This way! Papa’s best discoveries are over here!” Gabrielle said excitedly, leading them off onto a wild tour of the Lovre.
The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity, little Gabrielle seemingly jumping about the exhibits at random, showing off whatever her father had found in the past, but also making sure to talk about why it was important and how it related to other items in the museum.
She was actually quite good at playing tour guide, though I had a feeling that had a lot to do with the fact she was trying to show off to Harry, something her sister, Sam, and I had caught on to early.
Eventually, though, the Veela had to go home, something Fleur had to force onto her pouting sibling who refused to let go of Harry’s arm.
“Do we have to go?” she complained, shooting Harry moony eyes.
“Yes, Gabi. Or do you want Maman to worry about where we’ve been all day?” Fleur asked, causing the littlest Veela to slump in defeat.
“Bye, Harry,” she said. Gabrielle then gave him a quick peck on the cheek and ran over to her sister’s side, giggling all the way.
Harry just stood there, stunned, a blush growing onto his face as he tried to process what had just happened.
“How cute,” Sam teased, and it was Harry’s turn to pout. Which only made Sam laugh.
“It was nice meeting you two,” I said, since Harry was tongue-tied and Sam was busy laughing at him.
“It was a pleasure as well,” Fleur said. “Perhaps we can meet you again before your vacation is over?”
“I don’t see why not,” I said. A native tour guide of the city would be helpful. “Just send Harry an owl whenever you want as well. I’m sure he’d be happy to write back.”
At that, Gabrielle gasped happily and Harry shot me a look of betrayal, which I studiously ignored.
“We will,” Fleur said, grinning knowingly, before leading her sister away.
“That was fun. The two of them were nice as well, very polite. And we’ve still got some time. What else should we look at?” I asked the reduced group.
“I want to see the dragon exhibit!” Harry requested, and I nodded.
“Alright then! Off we go!” I said as we headed towards the next area of the museum to investigate.
a few hours later, we left the Lovre, tired but extremely pleased. It was around five pm, and we’d seen maybe a third of everything the magical side of the museum had to offer, not to mention the mundane side still had plenty to explore.
“I wish we’d been able to see everything,” Harry said, somewhat disappointed at having to leave.
“Hey, don’t worry, Harry. We’ve got two weeks in France. There’ll be plenty of time to revisit,” I assured him, and the Boy-Who-Lived perked up at that.
“And maybe we’ll run into those cute girls again,” Sam teased, causing Harry to flush bright red.
“Stop it!” he whined, and I laughed along with Sam.
“Of course, we’ll be good,” I said, winking at Sam. Harry saw it, not that I’d tried to hide it, and he pouted all the way back to the hotel.
However, when we returned, there was a surprise visitor waiting for us in the lobby that had Harry’s expression turn into a surprised but happy smile.
“Hello, Edward. Sam, Harry, how are you?” Delilah asked, smiling at the three of us from the couch she was lounging on.
“Delilah? What are you doing here? I thought you’d only get here tomorrow!” I exclaimed, surprised and happy to see her.
“I managed to get some time off early, so I came over to surprise you!” she said cheerfully, jumping up and giving me a hug. She then gave one to Sam and Harry as well, which they returned.
“That’s great! What floor are you?” Sam asked.
“Oh, I don’t have a room,” she said.
“You don’t?” I asked in confusion.
“Nope! I thought that since my boyfriend is here, he’d let me share his room.” She then turned puppy dog eyes onto me.
I reeled back a bit, but quickly rallied. “Well, with a cute face like that, how can I say no?” I replied with a chuckle.
“Ugh, romance,” Harry gagged.
“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Sam told him, ruffling his hair. He huffed at that, and with teasing grins of our own, Deliah and I also messed with his hair.
He grumbled at that as well, but I could see the tiny grin he wore.
“Let’s get your luggage up to my room, then,” I said, glancing at the suitcase she’d brought with her. She nodded in agreement, and leaned against me.
“My hero,” she drawled, putting a hand to her forehead like a lady about to swoon, and I laughed.
I felt good. This trip was already one of the best I’d had in either world, and I had a feeling it’d only get better.
Comments
Catherine Colin
Love this story just subbed to get ahead
Alatoic
Nice encounter with the Delacours. I suppose Harry can be pen pals of Gabby and Fleur, will be interesting. Now lets see the french Diagonally version and what they will found .
