Alistair's POV

(Two Hours Later, Harris Manor, Surrey, England...)

"I'm serious Al, you should've seen it! Jack says he can't remember a time when the pub's been so spotless!" She giggles in such a way I can't help but smile too. "I can't believe how effortless magic feels now, and it's only been a few hours!"

"See?" I hedge before glancing over my shoulder, silently reminding myself to keep my voice low. "I told you it would all work out."

"Yeah, yeah," she chuckles again. "You made it home alright?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Well...make sure you get a good night's sleep because our train-"

"Train?"

"The Eurostar," she brightens over the phone. "Apparently, it's the fastest way to get to Paris."

"But I thought we were going by the Floo Network at the Ministry?"

"Which is why I was going to buy one-way tickets, that way we could take the Network back to London, I know Muggle-Transportation isn't the quickest way to travel but you have to admit that it's still pretty cool. I mean it's an underwater train that can go almost 200 miles per hour..." she explains excitedly as my chest tightens hearing the heavy sound of someone walking around the main foyer. "Not to mention, it's on my Parisian bucket-list! And if I can cross it off why not, right?"

The sound of the lightswitch reverbs off of my spot within the servants' kitchen, and I automatically begin to scowl at the sudden rush of guilt and fear that swells inside my body. I take a few deep breaths reinforcing my emotions, mentally preparing myself for whatever is about to be said.

"...Al?" She hedges picking up the awkward tones of my silence. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine. I just don't have a passport. At least not one to go on the Eurostar."

"Oh..." She says sounding disappointed before perking back up. "Well, that's okay. We can take the Floo Network. It'll give us a bit more time to sight-see since-"

"Or, you could just take the train and I'll meet you there," I offer quickly, feeling his impatience seep into the atmosphere. "Actually," I say thinking it through. "That's probably a better idea."

"...Is something wrong?"

A short, frustrated smile spreads across my lips both impressed and irritated at the fact that she can read me so well, but I muster up a lie so that she'll let me off the phone. "I'm just tired. It's been a long day, and I want to get to bed."

"Of course! You must be exhausted," she rushes feeling guilty. "Go straight to bed and get some rest, and if you want, you don't have to come with me. In fact, you probably should just sleep in and-"

"I'll see you tomorrow, I promise," I say earnestly and she asks me a hundred times if I'm sure. "Yeah. I'm sure."

"Ok, well...Good night, and thank you for today."

"You're welcome," I smile a little, hearing her pepper the phone with kiss-noises. "...Yeah...Love you too...Night," I hang up the phone, trying my hardest to hang onto that perfect sensation I only get from being with Gwen.

"...Who was that on the phone, son?"

"No one."

"It didn't sound like 'No-One'."

"Well, she is," I say flatly turning around to finally face him. "At least to you anyway."

"...You know how I feel about you using the phone."

"I noticed Trevor in his room while I was heading around back, so I figured it was safe if any questions came up. It won't happen again. I didn't forget."

The silence stretches between us as the seconds drag on and we're both visually examining the other. I get my height from him, he's easily 6'1 or 6'2. And although my mother's Chinese ancestry dominates most of my features, there are distinct traces of my father's English lineage. Hard lines and angles form his face and middle-aged yet still athletic type frame. He has dark, square but perfectly maintained eyebrows matching his short business-like styled haircut, and a broad square face with a rugged five-o-clock shadow that probably should have him star in some low budget romance movie.

His eyes are what I would consider being the most memorable part of his face though. The golden flecks within his dark hazel irises should emit warmth, instead of the calculating coldness behind his stare. The looks he can give resemble the feeling of ice cracking beneath your feet while walking across a shallow pond. Every step weighed and judged, leaving you to feel anxiety and adrenaline all the while waiting to see if your next action would cause enough strain to send you crashing beneath the surface.

...That's probably the best way to describe my relationship with my father. 

"How long will you be staying with us?" He asks after a while. 

"We're out on holiday-"

"And you came here?"

"Last time I checked, it was where I lived."

"Of course it is, don't be ridiculous. But I was under the impression that it was only during the summer," he snorts. "Don't you usually make...other arrangements during your holidays?"

"My plans changed this year-"

"How convenient," he snides and I continue to explain knowing that this is just another part of my stay.

"And I just need a place to sleep for a couple of days."

"A couple of days?" He repeats disgustedly. 

"Look, you won't even know I'm here. I plan to be gone for most of the day so-"

"Where?"

"It doesn't matter as long as I'm kept out of sight."

"On the contrary, it matters a great deal. Especially if you're making plans to travel on the Eurostar. Now, where are you going?"

"Again, it doesn't matter since I obviously can't go."

"Then who are you meeting tomorrow? And where are you going that your means of transportation can't take you."

"What is this really about? Is me staying here that much of an issue?"

"It is if you carelessly decide to risk everything by exposing yourself," he snides. "Your-Kind may be content in indulging their arrogant and careless nature by accomplishing daring acts of frivolity, however, a truly powerful man doesn't need to boast. And a real man considers his reputation, and his duty to his family and their legacy before making any decision. And after everything this family has sacrificed on account of you-"

"Look, I didn't come here to start trouble."

"And somehow that's all you've ever brought me," he says darkly. "Ever since that wretched day you're mother died and you were dumped on me...At the height of my career no less. And now that it's about to happen again," he says lowly with a threatening glare. "Here you are."

I blink a few times, biting my lip hard attempting to hold in the bitter laugh swirling in the back of my throat. But it escapes anyway as my eyes attempt to sting from the verbal-jab, but I recover quickly shaking my head knowing it's nowhere near as bad as some of the other stuff he's said. 

"Well, ," I chuckle cockily. "...I'm sorry my presence has been so bothersome, but I legit have nowhere else to go. But I've kept a low profile for most of my life, so getting through the next few days should be manageable."

"Manageable?" He flares. "I'm about to make the biggest announcement of my political career the day after tomorrow-"

"So."

"So?" He scoffs irritatedly. "So, there's no possibility of you being kept out of sight! The grounds are crawling with paparazzi-"

"You aren't telling me anything new."

"What?"

"Reporters are always circling the grounds for the latest bit of gossip. They've done it for years, and I've evaded them countless times before and-"

"No one can know about you, Alistair. Not who you are to me, nor what you can do," he expels angrily. "I've worked too hard to have everything ruined."

"You sound as if I actively try to bring attention to myself-"

"I mean it, Alistair. I won't afford any of your slip-ups. One infraction upon any of the rules will result in your immediate withdrawal from the house. Am I clear?" 

I stay quiet staring into his eyes searching for a single shred of affection. To see his eyes brandish more than fear of my exposure, or have them represent more than his selfishness...to see genuine concern for me...An apology, even. Something...Something other than shame and disappointment in me as his son...

"Alistair..." He broods. "Am. I. Clear?"

"...Yeah, Dad," my voice answers with a heartbroken quiver. "We're good."

He brushes past me ending the conversation leaving me in the kitchen alone. I close my eyes and breathe deep, coaching myself through one of Tizzy's speeches. 

"No matter what your father says about you, it isn't true...You're special and loved, and someday, someday real soon...things are going to be better..." 

Her voice replays in my mind while visions of Gwen and my friends back at school create some sort of montage, reminding me of how great things already are. I just need to get through the next two days. 

I sniffle wiping my eyes before the tears brush my eyelashes and shake off the encounter heading up to my room. I pass through the foyer heading for the grand staircase until I see the open doors of my father's study, and the idea drops in my head so perfectly I'm grinning. 

I slip inside the darkroom guided only by the thick sliver streak of moonlight from the window facing the garden, and creep over to his desk and pull out a drawer revealing a small wallet. I pick it up and find his passport before slipping it out and placing it on the floor. 

I hesitate for the smallest moment, fully aware that my Trace is still intact. Judging on whether traveling with Gwen is really worth in the very least a warning from the Ministry of Magic?

"Geminio," I whisper tapping my wand on the passport, and it begins to shake and jump violently before separating into two. 

I pick up the copy and inspect it, flipping it open to reveal my father's picture and correct information and I'm grinning even more at my success. I stuff the fake passport into the wallet and take the real one, placing it back in the drawer and fixing everything back the way I found it, slipping out of his office as if I had never been there before and heading up to bed.

When I get to my room, I'm happy to find everything is just how I left it. I tear down the sheets covering the furniture and begin to unpack some of my things, but leaving the majority in my school-trunk. 

I look at my bed tempted to just sleep in it as is instead of taking the time to find a set of sheets I've stowed away in my drawers and actually make it-

I hesitate for half a second tempted to use magic, before shaking my head with a sly smile going through the effort of making it by hand. 

"You can wait one more day," I think to myself. "You've already broken a few rules with the passport. Best not to push our luck..."

As soon as I'm done, I plop into bed and shut my eyes tightly feeling almost too wired to sleep but exhausted beyond belief. 

My mind wanders back to my mother, and the sweet somber smile spreading across her kind face...

(XILIN MEDICAL CLINIC, BEIJING CHINA. TEN YEARS AGO...)

"Happy Birthday."

"Don't-" I sniffle wiping my nose rather hard..."Don't talk, remember?" I add tucking her blanket around her body to help her stay warm. "The doctor said to-"

"I know what the doctor's said, but I'm strong enough to wish you every happiness your heart can withstand," she adds lovingly, patting for me to climb into the space on her hospital bed and I do immediately snuggling up to her. "My sweet boy..." she tries before her next cough can fade her wish. "I'm so sorry-"

"Stop it," I whimper as my eyes brim with another round of hopeful tears. "You're going to be alright...And we're going to go far away from here. Just the two of us. Just like you said."

"I wish I could keep that promise, Alistair...and if I were special like you, I'd make myself strong enough so I could stay with you...I'm so sorry," she smiles bitterly as the water smears down her cheeks. "I love you with all my heart. Never forget that, to the-"

"Moon and back."

"And twice again." Her frail arms wind around my body using the last of her strength to crush herself to me. 

"I love you."

"I love you," she leans away with the biggest smile on her face, cupping my cheeks before kissing each one. "...Promise me something? Can you do something important for mommy?"

I nod sniffling hard again.

"Keep me in your heart?" She begs sweetly. "Keep me in your heart so that we can always stay together...Keep me in yours, and I'll always be with you. And when life seems darkest, just know I'll send you someone to bring you some light..."

Gwen's POV

(The Next Morning Leaky Cauldron...)

I wake up the next morning with a huge lump in my throat realizing the task set before me today. 

"Aunt Vinda," I half groan covering my face before sitting up in my bed.

I sigh once more getting up from my spot and reaching for my wand resting easily on the nightstand, and as soon as I pick it up it forces that comforting feeling to spread up and out from my stomach to my hand. I smile down and jump out of bed with a lazy flick, instructing my bed to fluff and make itself before drawing back the curtains to greet the dreary weather. It's cloudy and dry, but bright somehow...My kind of weather.

I shuffle across the creaky boards of the room to get to my trunk and flip open the top to dig around to find something to wear. I flex my hand forcing all of my options out of the trunk before waving my wand to suspend them in air, and then animating the clothes just enough to have a small and private fashion show to showcase my options. The clothes parade themselves up and down the main walkway of my room as I magically refill my teapot with water and light a fire beneath it. 

I kiss the base of  the wand handle in gratitude, before settling in the massive Queen-Anne armchair to watch the show. I sort through the outfits and rearrange them forcing the clothes to try out different combinations, just having fun at how effortless magic is now after years of working with a temperamental wand. It's surreal that magic is easy now. I had to work so hard at it before, silently begging and pleading for the wand to cooperate, praying that it wouldn't backfire my spells and incantations during something important or potentially embarrassing. I only realize now how much of a fight my mother's wand gave me, and how powerful I must be to have overcome it time and time again...

I shake my head refusing to become caught up in my potential. There are more important matters...like choosing an appropriate outfit. Modern or Classic? Traditional or Edgy? High-Fashion or Casual?

I end up wearing a black sheath dress with a pair of chunky ankle strap heels, and my pendant from Alistair. I keep my makeup fairly neutral except for my eyes. I outline them in a dark eyeliner to appear more intimidating. 

This meeting with my aunt has me even more defensive than usual, and I don't want to seem naive or vulnerable when it comes to dealing with her. The stories my father has shared with me along with the research I've done on my own has prepared me enough to expect the worst. And the only reason why I'm even going is to prove a point to Alistair. He thinks this visit is going to be some great opportunity that will either offer me closure or the chance to regain some sort of maternal experience I've been missing out on...

I shake my head refusing to fall for his "Give-It-A-Chance" mentality. 

Most days I value and appreciate his optimism, but when it comes to judging people and predicting their next actions I'm clearly better at it. Not that I don't believe some people aren't worthy of second chances, I just don't think I should be blinded by hopes and wishes. Hope shouldn't be left as a toss-up, but should be the fuel to further your ambitions. And you should ultimately be prepared for the worst, that way you can't be emotionally crushed by disappointment.

Hope is powerful and sometimes even dangerous, and it hurts too much when things don't work out like you plan. 

...It's safer to adjust to reality than spend energy on simply wishing on an outcome. 

I shake my head again pulling myself out of the morbid dark hole I've been spinning in, and end up smiling see how far I've gone. It's sort of interesting how quick my mind can twist and spiral in despair, and how comfortable I am assessing it all. 

I style my hair in a sleek top-knot and slip on a tan trench-coat that matches my shoes, and a small quilted shoulder handbag. I stare at the tiny bag itching for another chance to use my wand...

"Clearly the bag is too small to hold everything I need. I doubt if it could even hold the contents of my wallet, let alone a passport, ticket, and other personal items," I huff setting the bag on the bed before giving it tap with the end of my wand. "...Capacious-Extremis," I think as hard as I can and the bag shudders before settling down. 

I purse my lips wondering whether or not I've done the spell correctly, and I dip my hand inside. I start to grin feeling nothing, not even the other side of the bag no matter how far I reach, and I take my arm out and swirl my wand magically packing the bag. I tuck the wand into my side pocket, slip the bag over the front of my body and head out the room down the stairs into the main lobby of the pub. 

I exit through the main entrance and down the street following the bustle of the foot-traffic before grabbing a taxi. "St. Pancras International Railway Station, if you please."

My knees bounce impatiently anxious to get to my train even though I've given myself plenty of time to get through customs and to board. The entire ride to the station I'm beginning to agree with Alistair about using the Floo Network, but the station itself is so historically beautiful it erases any feeling of regret. I pay the driver and hop out eager to step inside, the smells of the restaurants and cafes mixed in with the lush sounds of different travelers has me smiling ear to ear. The natural light from the numerous window-panes mirrors my mood, and it literally takes everything within me not to spin in place. Not that it matters because my excitement practically forces me to become clumsy and  I end up bumping into a stranger regardless.

His arms immediately brace the sides of my body to keep from falling and I begin apologizing. "No need, love," he chuckles and I frown sizing him up and down. "Wow, you're beautiful."

"That's a bit bold coming from a man old enough to be my father."

He chuckles deeply, dropping his hands from my sides. "I suppose that is how it seems, but sometimes you're so mesmerizing I can't help myself."

"I'm sorry, Sir. Do I know you?" I sass, knowing in my heart that I don't recognize this man. At least not personally. But he does have a movie-star face and build that feels as if I've seen him somewhere. On television or something?

He's dressed nicely in a light sweater and dress pants with a blue button-down shirt underneath, and dark dress shoes. He's tall, middle-aged, with medium-fair skin, dark hair, and a five-o-clock shadow. Mystical, hazel eyes that flash so many colors they seem unreal, but shine bright with friendliness as they continue to change before darkening into a familiar brown shade. The same shade I've been staring into since Valentine's Day...

"Perhaps...by another name? The one you gave me...at school?" He hedges playfully leaning a bit farther towards my face before changing them back.

I tilt my head with confusion. "...Fred?"

He peers back with his signature smirk, and I'd recognize that lopsided style of a grin anywhere. "I'll explain when we reach Paris."

"You're unbelievable," I laugh feeling my face brighten because he's here, but then it falls just as fast. "But-"

"This was the only way I could take the train with you, And it will only work if you act like you don't know me," he says sweetly causing me to frown even harder. "Brightside, I got us our tickets so we could at least sit together."

"This legit doesn't make any sense-"

"I know. And I'll explain later I promise," he adds placing the ticket in my hand, and I feel my brows furrow even more. "Stop looking at me like that," the handsome face smirks. "We're going to be late for our train."

I sigh, rubbing the frowns from my forehead. "Fine, okay...Did you at least get something to eat?"

He smiles lovingly and it's like I can see him fight the urge to brush my cheek. I sigh nodding and he disappears into the crowd. The time it would've taken to get my ticket, I use it to buy breakfast for us to have on the train. When I head over to customs, I show them my passport and ticket and my interrogation begins. I answer their questions and sail through their security checks anxious to get to the train. I show the conductor my ticket and I'm escorted to my seat in first-class where Alistair is already for me still disguised as The-Stranger. I sit in the second seat directly across from him in the two-seater window section of our car, and my eyes narrow suspiciously silently demanding an explanation and he kicks my foot teasingly until I shake my head and smile. 

I don't say anything for a while, treating the situation as if he really were another random passenger, but when the train stirs to life and we begin to ease away from the terminal I look at him with excitement, bobbing up and down starting to squeal at the fact that we're finally moving. I glance out the window as the train starts to pick up speed, smoothly transitioning the bustle and congestion of the city to the subtle English countryside before entering the darkness of the tunnel. 

I've fantasized about Paris for so long I can't help but feel accomplished, even if it comes at the price of visiting my Great-Aunt Vinda. I ease back into the comfort of my seat and sigh wistfully, relishing in the fact that I'm actually on my way to visit the city of my dreams.

"And see? That right there makes this all worth it. Seeing you this happy? I wouldn't want to miss it for all the world," he comments and I look back to him, silently reminding him of his rule that we're supposed to be strangers. He ducks his head with a short nod looking out the window. 

"Anything from the trolley?" The train-attendant smiles happily.

"May I buy you a coffee Miss?" Alistair looks at me playfully and I shake my head and smile watching him have fun in his disguise. "It's the least I could do for almost knocking you over."

"Thank you," I say playing along and he proceeds to order for the both of us. The attendant sets down a coffee for me and a tea for him with enough cream and sugar to share. "Oh! Do you happen to have honey?" I ask remembering Alistair's preference and she nods placing it between us as Alistair pays.

"Thank you, Sir! And I just want to say if you do decide to run for Speaker, you've got the support of the people," she brightens, taking the money and heading for the next car. 

"Speaker?" I hedge after a while and he sighs. 

"Since you're the legal one out of the two of us, if you do that thing, I'll explain."

My mouth twists checking my surroundings before slipping my wand out of my side pocket. "Muffliato..."

The invisible humming bubble of sound falls around us like a case, and I expel a gust of air suddenly acknowledging the amount of tension within the space. Even Alistair eases a little, wiggling in his seat to get comfortable and I reach into my purse before pulling out a box of a dozen assorted pastries. Alistair's eyes widen in surprise and then excitement seeing the box and I open it offering him some. 

"Alright. What the is going on?"

He chuckles taking a bite out of a doughnut. "Nothing you have to worry about."

"Too late, I am worried. This is legit identity-theft!" I add anxiously and he smiles even bigger. "And you've already made it clear that you're doing it for me, so what is it?"

"I told you. This was the only way I could come with you on a muggle-train."

"But why?" I say and he falls silent, and then I remember that he may not want to tell me. "...Nevermind. You don't have to say-"

"It's not that. It's just...embarrassing."

"Embarrassing?"

He rolls his eyes taking another bite before wiping his mouth roughly. "...I'm not real."

"I'm not following...What do you mean you aren't real?"

"In the eyes of Muggle-Law, I don't exist. That's why I don't have a passport, and that's why I had to duplicate my dad's and change my appearance in order to ride the train," he sighs. "I'm not registered in the muggle world, only in the wizarding one...The only ones aware of my existence are immediate family members who have signed a non-disclosure agreement."

"That doesn't make any sense! Why would-"

"Acknowledging my existence would be damaging to my family's reputation and my father's political career. To him, nothing is more important than that."

"Why should that even matter?" I snark disapprovingly. "It's not like you're in line for the throne or something."

"No, well-"

"Well?"

"At least not without something extremely awful happening. My family isn't in the top ten, top twenty perhaps but even then he's like  thirty-seventh or so-"

"THIRTY-SEVEN?!" I half shriek as the news suddenly begins to settle. "So...you're dad's like...a Lord?"

"Lord Harris of Peckham," he says somberly. "He's somewhat of a big deal, and coming to meet you was only part of the risk because he's constantly being followed by reporters and I have to keep a low profile. And if anyone found out about me let alone what I am-"

I rub my face hard unsure of what to say. Part of me wants to berate him for taking such a risk, but then another part of me feels immense sorrow that he's accustomed to this kind of treatment. Being hidden? Made to feel as if you don't exist?

"Say something?" He begs and I bring my hands down and shake my head. 

"I don't know what to say...No," I frown scrunching my nose. "I know exactly what I want to say. What kind of man does that to his own son?!" The man in front of me smiles shyly as I continue my tangent. "To hide you away from the world like that-"

"Well, I got out didn't I?"

"...Even so," I say darkly. "You should've never had to go through that in the first place. I'm so sorry, Alistair."

He shrugs it off before perking up the conversation. "It's like I said, I'd do it again...Besides, starting tomorrow it won't even be a problem."

"Wait. Why is it a problem now?"

"Because I triggered The-Trace. And before you start giving me a speech about the illegal use of underage magic, I know."

"You know?!"

"It was one simple doubling-charm. No harm done-"

"Alistair! If you're seriously considering becoming an Auror, you have to first be accepted into the program! And I'm pretty sure felonies are not apart of the application process."

"Maybe the Ministry will consider this as an early birthday present," he jokes and I groan. "If it is my last day as a free man, will you at least help me make the most of it?"

"No," I answer before busting out with a laugh. "...Thank you. Not just for all that you did to come with me, but for even coming in the first place." He gives me another smile before eating the rest of his doughnut and we continue our train ride. Another hour or so later we're pulling into the Gare du Nord.

"Okay so, I'll meet you at the tourist office as soon as we get through customs, yeah?" He explains standing up to get off the train first. "As me, this time," he winks and I smile. 

I wait a few minutes after he leaves watching the other passengers get off before following. "Welcome to Paris..."

The welcome message floats down and settles in my ears, stirring my soul with reverence as I step off the train. I'm smiling so bad I can hardly hide it, even when I go through customs. 

"First time to Paris?"

"Oui, Monsieur," I begin. "This is my first, and hopefully not the last."

"Ah, let me guess? An American tourist here on holiday?" The agent comments dryly. "Testing out her little French lessons?"

"Something like that," I reply with narrowed eyes before letting it slide.

"And how long do you plan to stay?"

"Just today. I'm here to see my aunt," I say reaching in my bag to show him my letters. "There's her address-"

"Move along, and welcome to Paris."

I give a curt nod and follow the line to enter the main part of the station and immediately I'm smiling again overtaken by the historic site. Large metal beams stretch and weave high above to uphold the stone frames trimmed with so many window-panes I could become dizzy counting them. It feels industrial with the constant whirr of machines and technology, but sacred somehow with the patterns and shadows cascading all around us from the daylight shining in. 

I chuckle feeling myself become caught up by a train station and decide I've spent enough time admiring, heading off towards the tourist office to find Alistair. I arrive first, becoming anxious when I don't see him immediately. I whip my head back and forth so many times trying to locate him, my hair seems to loosen from its top-knot. 

I'm not sure why I'm so worried about him especially because he's here with me, but I am. The more he shares about his home-life the more I don't want him to go back. I want him safe and happy at school. My fingers reach up and ensnare the pendant beginning to rub it nervously until I see his platinum blonde hair bob into view. The invisible grip clenching my chest releases and I sigh before waving him over to where I am and he gives me my favorite smile. I can't wait any longer rushing to meet him and my hands clutch his front bringing myself close and his wind around me squeezing me just as hard. 

"I've legit only been gone-"

"I don't care," I beam leaning back to pinch his nose to make sure it's really him and he laughs. "Now let's go before you're caught."

We lace our fingers and exit the station, both of us breathing a bit easier after we head outside. "Whereto first?" 

"Well, seeing as how we're meeting my aunt in a few hours it really doesn't leave us much time to do anything."

"Seriously? What about your list?" He argues. "The Louvre! Arc de Triumph! Versailles-"

"I don't have time, and that's okay. I made it to the city of my dreams," I smile as he continues to pout. "And it's not like this will be my only trip to the city, I'll explore it one day."

"But Gwen-"

"I already tried to plan a trip to the Louvre but I just don't have the time. The wait time alone is two hours, not to mention according to the website even if you spent sixty-seconds on everything they have in the museum for eight hours a day, it would take seventy-five days to see it all," I smile as he continues to struggle with discarding my Parisian-Bucket-List. "Al, I don't have seventy-five days. At least not consecutively."

"Ugh! This is so unfair! You came all this way to-"

"See my aunt," I sigh. "I can come back another time for my list."

"Yeah, but I want to be there."

"Who says you won't be?" I shrug remaining optimistic. 

"You. If you had it your way," he chuckles giving my hand a squeeze. "...You're really okay, then?"

"I'm more than okay. I'm with you," I say reaching up on my tippy-toes in order to reach the lowest part of his cheek and he laughs deep again. "Now let's get this over with," I sigh starting to drag him in the direction of my aunt's home.

We walk hand in hand with me gaping and gawking at how breathtakingly beautiful everything is every five seconds, and Alistair just smiles silently encouraging my excitement. Everything is either aggressively fairy-tale-cottage cute or historically classic. The different shops and pop-up marketplaces remind me of the opening market-scene in Beauty & the Beast and I feel compelled to burst in song, but the pristine architecture and bountiful gardens surrounding our every step somehow make it holy and sacred...

"I had no idea you had such passion for Paris," Alistair notes as I take a sip of my café au lait, and the bitterness tastes sweet because of its authenticity. 

"Do you ever just have a connection to a place? And the fact that it feels a million miles away makes no difference at all, you're just drawn to it? That's how I feel about Paris," I smirk before sharing something personal. "...This city also held a special place for my mother. She used to spend a lot of time here growing up."

"Is that why you learned to speak French?"

"My father made sure I learned French knowing one day this day would come. He didn't want the language to be another barrier I'd have to overcome," I explain. "Me being a second-generation half-blood-"

"Wait, second-generation? Your mum wasn't a pureblood?" He asks and I shake my head. "So, how are you a Rosier?"

"My grandmother was Emilie Rosier, and she married an English muggle named Thomas Gaines and they had my mom, Lynnette, who married my dad Aaron Collins. They met one rainy night at a pub in London," I smile wistfully remembering their story. "...He was an American student studying Medival History abroad at Oxford-"

"Medival History?" Alistair says somewhat surprised and then I give him a look and it clicks. "Oh...Gwen. Guinevere," he smiles and I do as well. "That makes so much more sense."

"Yeah, my dad's always had a fascination with Arthurian legends. Even now, he always finds a way to work the topic into his syllabus."

"He's a teacher then?"

I nod thinking of him and how much I miss him. "A history professor at a small college not too far from the city. Boston is our halfway point. Ilvermorny being in the Berkshires, trips to the city are kind of like your trips to Hogsmeade, so my father and I would arrange to meet some weekends."

"So being this far from him must be difficult."

"Yes and no...It's not as hard as it was in the beginning. Like, I'm getting better at handling the distance," I sigh reaching for my cup. "But as I said, my father taught me French hoping it would at least eliminate that barrier."

"Barrier?"

I widen my eyes hoping he'll notice the obvious, but he doesn't so I have to explain. "I'm a half-blood, Full-Black, American going to visit her Pure-Blood, Grindelwald-Lieutenant, French Aristocrat relative," I say smiling a bit at the irony. 

"That's a harsh speculation, considering you've never met nor had any contact with her before now. Besides, how do you even know she'll even care?"

"She cared enough to distance herself from my grandmother for choosing someone different. My mother, for following the same path...Why should I be any different?" I question feeling myself starting to get upset. I take in a deep breath and let it out steadily refusing to let her or her invitation to acknowledge my existence get to me. "Nevermind...it doesn't matter."

"Clearly it does," he sighs beginning his lecture. "I mean do you honestly want to-"

"Let me stop you right there," I smirk setting down my cup. "I want you to promise me you won't try to fix this."

"But Gwen!"

"I mean it, Al. I'm only going to tell her face to face that she can keep ignoring me like she's been doing," I say decidedly. "I'm not looking for a change in our relationship-"

"Gwen-"

"And I don't want you trying to mend what she hasn't cared enough to try and fix."

"She's trying now!" He groans and I smile understanding the real reason as to why he's here. "...Alright, you wanna make a deal? Fine then. I won't interfere as long as you give her a genuine chance."

"No," I scoff. "Making an offer like that is you already trying to fix this, doing the exact opposite of what I want, and I'm not doing it."

"UGH! You're so stubborn."

"Thank you," I giggle preparing to take another sip of my coffee as he glowers silently trying to find a way around my request. 

Alistair's POV

(110 ru La Boétie, Paris France...)

"You have-uh," I begin slowly. "Very lovely home...It's very," I try, glancing over to Gwen who raises her eyebrows playfully before pursing her lips to keep from laughing as I continue to shove my foot even further in my mouth by attempting to start a conversation. "Gaunt."

"Gaunt?"

"I mean, gothic? Yeah...Gothic," I say clearing my throat determined to break the tension. "The-uh, architecture. It's influenced by that style, is it not? Well, the interior because the outside is architecturally a Haussman. Am I right?" I wince nervously beginning to tug at the collar of my shirt, as Vinda Rosier sits across from us. "Is it hot in here?"

Her stare is cold and calculating. Stern but not 100% unapproachable, just extremely defensive to the point that everyone else is uncomfortable. Well, everyone but Gwen. Gwen mimics the same uncooperative attitude but somehow warms the air with her subtle defiance, and her indifference mixed with Vinda's penetrative expression makes me feel like an insect burning beneath a magnifying glass from the tension expanding within the room. 

So, I had to try something. Because the silence was unbearable! And the only relief I've had the entire hour we've been sitting on her uncomfortable 19th-century Victorian inspired furniture, is from the old House-Elf currently fixing each of us a cup of tea.

"Would you prefer something else, sir?" The elf squeaks anxiously, and we all notice Vinda shift disapprovingly within her seat. 

"No! No of course not. Tea is brilliant," I quip and the elf drops her head immediately to finish the preparations. "Thank you..."

Gwen exhales visibly beside me and when I look at her, is taught and her eyes zeroed in on the house-elf's attire. A worn black pillowcase draped around her frail body like a toga, with a golden rose pinned to the front. 

Gwen side-eyes me as if to say 'I-Told-You-She-Was-Awful', before taking the dainty cup of tea from the elf. "Thank you," Gwen trails in French waiting for the Elf to tell us her name. 

"Bouton, Mademoiselle," the elf bows so low her lips brush the floor. 

"Pimple?" Gwen translates with disgust towards her Aunt, before addressing the elf again. "Well, thank you, Bouton," she smiles taking a sip. "It's the best cup I've ever had."

Bouton's large brown eyes b with pride before bowing low again. "Thank you, Miss," she peeps a little happier serving the rest of us, but as soon as she reaches Vinda her smile drops instantly and she bounces back to the tray disappearing with a loud CRACK!

After another drawn-out silence and I'm trying to initiate a different conversation. "Rosier...It means 'Rose' in French, doesn't it? Not that French has been my for-tay," I chuckle at my own pun and Vinda gives me an unimpressed eye-roll. 

"It's fort," Vinda snips and Gwen jumps in immediately to defend me. 

"It's a joke...Which is more than you deserve," she grumbles on the end.

After another moment of brooding, Vinda breaks the next bought of silence. "...What?!"

"What do you mean what?" Gwen sasses leaning a bit forward. "You're the one being unnecessarily difficult."

"I'm difficult?"

"What else would you call your behavior?"

"My, behavior?" Vinda spits as Gwen continues and I sit awkwardly watching the two of them hash it out. 

"Yes, your behavior," Gwen emphasizes. 

"You're the one barely saying anything!"

"Yes well, I have my own personal reasons for wanting this visit to go as badly as possible but that still is no excuse for you to treat him so rudely."

"You think my behavior is rude?" Vinda half chokes, breaking her statuesque pose to angrily gesture towards Gwen. "When you! The very depiction of arrogance-"

Gwen skips over her dig to finish arguing her point. "I mean, at least he's trying. Which is more than I can say for myself-"

"Wait! You didn't wish to see me?"

"The real question is, why are you surprised? I mean, you honestly seem shocked to know my indifference and lack of interest towards you. But then again, I learned it from you seeing how this is our first meeting." 

My insides gripe hearing Gwen's tone because even though she sounds unattached and caustic, I can hear the hurt behind her words. She lashes out even the more whenever she feels the most vulnerable, and unless you're the type of person to persistently fight through her defenses you can forget trying to get her to open up willingly.

I slide my hand to hers, gripping it tightly and she closes her eyes taking a deep breath trying to keep her composure. She turns her head away from me, refusing to look at either one of us putting her free hand to to keep from audibly grumbling. 

"May I speak? I know it's not my place to say anything, but I also know Gwen," I begin looking to Vinda, and her nostrils flex. "...I'm not sure what you were expecting or what reasons you had for scheduling this visit, but you aren't going to make any sort of progress until you apologize."

"Apologize?!" Vinda huffs. "For what?! Why should I? I've done nothing-"

"Exactly," I wince, and Gwen kisses her teeth beside me already knowing where I'm headed. "That's the problem."

"Al, I'm fine," she says giving my hand a firm shake begging me to drop the subject. 

"You're not fine, and no one knows that better than me. So instead of wasting an entire afternoon in silence, I'm gonna give your Aunt a crash course on you," I smirk at her and she rolls her eyes and sighs, and I return my attention to Vinda. "Gwen isn't the type of person to tell you what's wrong. You've got to deduce and anticipate her reactions based on the situation, so knowing all that we do, it's only natural to assume she's angry and hurt that after so many years you're just reaching out to her now."

The ice within her eyes melts beginning to brim. "...Is that true?"

"No," Gwen answers too fast revealing her lie, and she huffs becoming flustered and even more defensive. "I've told you time and time again that I don't care either way."

"She's also one of the best and worst liars I know," I add pointing my finger to interject another quality."And the closer you get to the truth the more she continues to deny it-"

"Al!"

"Especially when she feels vulnerable. She avoids talking about her emotions. And practically all forms of communication are taboo-"

"Shut-Up, Al!" She says freeing her hand to give me a swift shove.

"If it's about something she deems sensitive."

"I can't believe you right now!"

"She's got one of the worst tempers I've ever seen. So yeah, I'm risking a lot by giving you a glimpse as to how she really is-"

"If you don't stop talking you'll be risking your life!"

"But I'm willing to do it because I love her-"

"Cheap-shot," she snides folding her arms. 

"And I know deep down she's looking for a connection to her mother!"

"UNBELIEVABLE!" She groans covering her face. 

"I'll ask again..." Vinda breathes slowly. "Is what this boy saying, true?"

"What difference does it make? Nothing is going to change."

"Do you want it to change? I too, am looking for a way to reconnect. That is why you're here," Vinda asks desperately. "...Young man, is it possible for me to speak with my niece alone?"

"Anything you have to say to me, Alistair can hear-"

"No," I say interrupting her, taking the back of her hand and giving her a soft kiss. "She's right. You two need to talk."

"He can wait in the library," she offers, and it's the first extension of warmth I've felt the entire time we've been here. 

"See? There's a library and everything," I add hopefully, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Play nice," I growl lovingly and she shakes her head with a defeated smile. 

I stand up and duck my head respectfully towards Vinda who returns the gesture before I walk out, and I turn the corner walking down the hall to the sounds of them beginning a conversation. I exhale with a smile satisfied at the initial step and give them their privacy by starting to notice the home. It's incredible, that's for sure. And even though I know Gwen will never admit it aloud, I can totally see the aesthetic similarities between her and her aunt. I've lost count the number of times Gwen has explained how one of her favorite places to study is the Slytherin Common room, and from her descriptions, I can't help but imagine something like this. Dark. Dramatic use of shadows. Candlelight. Elegant furniture placed strategically about the space to curl up with a book, or admire the historic architecture paying homage to an abundance of classical influences-

"Are you lost, sir?" Bouton peeps and I see her set down an old rag she was using to polish a mirror. 

"Just looking for the library."

"I'll take you there," she squeaks waddling to help me. "Madame has a marvelous collection."

"Oh?"

"Spends most of her time reading. Reading, and her flowers."

"Flowers?"

"Oh yes," Bouton nods taking my hand to guide me down the hall. "The Greenhouse is most exquisite this time of year. It's where Madame keeps all her treasures...Here we are," she croaks opening the door and allowing me to step in. 

"Thank you, Bouton."

"My pleasure, Master Al" she bows. "...Is there anything in particular you'd like to read?"

"No, well...Are there any books on the Rosier lineage?"

"Of course. Madame keeps all of the Rosier histories-"

"What about something more personal? Maybe a photo-album or-"

"Is Master Al looking for something in particular?"

"A photograph of Lynnette Gaines," I wince. "I know it would mean a lot to Gwen if she had a picture of her mother."

"Brave woman she was."

"You knew her?"

"I have served this house faithfully for over 60 years," she bows again. "She was a brilliantly brave witch...Pity what happened. And with Gwen being so young too..."

I nod remembering what Gwen shared, finding a small piece of optimism. "It is, but she was too young to remember-"

"You're wrong, Master Al. She was made to forget," Bouton replies gravely before covering quickly and rushing off to the nearest wall to brace herself before smashing her head into it. "Bad-Bouton! You gave an oath! Your word! Never to speak of it! You promised Mistress! Bad! Bad! Bad!"

"BOUTON!"

Vinda's voice snaps like a whip, cracking through the hall and the house-elf stops rigidly. "If you're done making a complete fool of yourself, set an extra two places for today's lunch."

"Yes, Madame," Bouton bows low, but she eyes me pleadingly rising up and disappearing with a soft crack. 

"Alistair?" Vinda calls and my toes curl deep in my shoes in the worst possible way. "I'm taking Gwen for a tour of the house, would you care to join us?" I swallow hard trying to ignore what's just happened, and I wince feeling her slink in beside me to loop herself onto my arm. "I want you to know how much I appreciate your help with my niece, I shall never forget it."

"Uh-sure?" I nod feeling like a snake is starting to swirl around my body, debating whether or not it should begin it's squeeze. "Fam-Family is very important."

"I couldn't agree more...It's our legacy. The only thing left after all else has faded," she replies in her cool, even, tone that somehow makes the atmosphere colder. She smiles beautifully looking up at me and I grimace. "You're quite handsome."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"And your family?" She prompts. "Are you apart of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"Not that I'm aware."

"But your family does possess the ability, do they not?"

"Again, not that I'm aware," I say suddenly finding my voice, and from the way I answer she knows I'm insulted. "Is it a problem?"

"Of course it isn't," she smiles effortlessly through her lie. "I learned a long time ago you must take your allies where you can find them. You are a wizard, therefore nothing else matters. And above all else, young love is fleeting." That stops me dead in my tracks and she jerks forward a little. "Oh, I know...You feel strongly now but after all, you are only children. Time has a way of changing feelings, and when you're older you'll see that I'm right."

My eyes narrow into slits realizing my dream of receiving her blessing is slipping further and further away into a void. "Why are you telling me this?"

"To thank you," she smiles again, nudging me forward to keep walking. "You've help bring Gwen back into my life, and that warrants you a warning, to say the least."

"A warning?"

"...She's the last relative I have. And although her status is muddied, she is a true rose in every sense of the word. She will breathe life into our vine ensuring that our garden blooms for generations to come. She will need a more worthy life-partner, someone who will help nurture her legacy instead of hindering it."

"You're extremely confident for a person who just met her not even an hour ago," I expel. "How do you know she'll even care about being apart of a legacy, much less continuing it?"

"Because I've seen the glint in her eyes. Her ambition and drive to be something great, to do something memorable...I'm offering her a chance to discover and reclaim her purpose. What can you offer? Love?" She taunts before giving a wickedly girlish laugh. "...You claim to know her best, what do you think she'll choose? Power? Or Love?"

~~~~

more is coming!

thank you for your patience!

stay safe!

much love, pce!

<3