6th arrondissement of Paris

The winter-bare trees lining the neat sidewalks and broad streets below were draped with coats of champagne lights. Vines of little glowing gold leaves, they brought a particular warmth to the tidy sidewalk and navy sky, mirroring the glow of the tower that stood stubbornly ornate in the next arrondissement. They were a Christmas hallmark, their coziness welcomed by all those bundled against the December air.

A muggle taxi’s horn hollered as it passed another car, but the sound hardly registered in the capacious apartment at the building’s top floor. A window was barely opened, just enough for the middle of the sheer white drapes to sway like lazy willows and the dog to huff and at imagined threats and circle away from the wind every so often-- before returning to his post on a cushioned bench to inspect the holiday crowd outside.

The little bit of chill that crept in competed with the healthy fire beneath the mantle. Juliette in an oversized cardigan, and made good use of the throw blanket on the couch. Presently, she had abandoned the blanket to hang a deep red holiday stocking above the fireplace. From inside peaked a large dog’s bone with a red bow. Its spoiled recipient was still too busy patrolling the window to notice, and Juliette was mindful to hang it high enough that he could not attempt to bring it down before Christmas.

She wandered back toward the tree at the other side of the living room. Juliette had put out a few extra candles and bought tasteful, wintry floral arrangements in the market earlier that day, but besides the stocking for Louis (and maybe a pair of hats, one of which she planned to force upon a certain brilliant, no-nonsense head), the tree was the only overt holiday decoration in the apartment, and certainly the focal point. A hat box of ornaments lay open on the floor, most of its contents still nestled inside.

She moved in behind Landis, her eyes narrowing ever slightly, possessing all the acumen of a precocious student judging his own test paper. She reached a pale arm past him and plucked an ornament from its spot. “It should face the window,” she told him, standing on tippy toes to reassign it over his shoulder. She withdrew her arm, returned both feet to the handsome floorboards, slipping her hands beneath his sweater, against the warmth of his back. Her chin rested on his shoulder and she inspected her work. She tilted her head sideways a bit to stare at his cheek. “How have you never decorated a tree?” The Morgans and Harpers had no doubt had Christmas trees. The scrutiny in her voice was matched with humor. “Were you ever a child?” She kissed his cheek, and then his shoulder, and bent down to find another ornament. She picked up a minuscule gold deer and a tiny owl whose tiny wings were magicked to move every so often. The owl she placed to the right of a simple but elegant bauble, and took a few steps back to consider where the deer should go.

Paris suited the both of them very well as they had discovered that previous summer. For Landis, it was decently far enough and different enough from the UK to be novel. For Juliette, it was a homecoming that relaxed even as it delighted. Being back on the familiar streets of Paris returned to her an animation and a playfulness to which he found himself, despite his best efforts, helplessly receptive; she in turn benefited from and took advantage of his softening with the same absolutely shameless sense of manipulation he had always admired.

How interesting to think that it had been slightly less than a year ago that he had returned from the holidays to find that the blink-and-you'd-miss-it Potions opening had been filled by some smirking French coquette, sly as the devil and twice as familiar. And now he was spending this holiday with her. To be honest, the only thing really surprising about it was the addition of the dog.

He still refused to take credit for its presence, though they had just reached the point where it was acceptable to joke about their recent break and Juliette often teased him about having needed something to cuddle in his absence. He and the dog had progressed, in such that he had ceased being aware of its googly-eyed stare and ignored it the majority of the time when their mutual mistress brought them together. He had, however, bought it a Christmas present. Twice over the course of the evening as it skittered over his shoes in pursuit of some tottering ornament, he thought darkly satisfied thoughts about the shrunk dog crate sitting near the door just waiting to be unwrapped.

Tonight, their first full day in Paris since leaving Hogwarts, she had insisted that they put up the majority of the decorations by hand. Refraining from magic apparently made it more special, news to Landis whose family house elf had always gotten up the decorations overnight. But he rarely minded humoring Juliette when it made her happy, and so he took ornaments from the box and hung them on the tree while she fluttered about with stockings and coy commentary.

"I was a child," he disagreed as she reached over his shoulder to resettle an improperly-placed ornament. "Not an interior designer." Though he reached for another from the box he did not place it, instead watching her as she scrutinized the tree. Seeing her decorate by hand, though it seemed pointless, was amusing. Leaning close he murmured thoughtfully, his expression perfectly straight, "If your expertise in Potions is not matched by that of household charms, there's nothing to be ashamed of..."

“Most children think they’re interior designers,” she said, departing sage wisdom just as she found a place for the deer. “They put glittery signs on their bedroom doors and choose ugly posters that are very embarrassing two years later.” Imagining a six-year-old Landis anywhere near a bottle of glitter or a teenage version bothering with posters of mediocre bands was fairly impossible. (Though one might have argued only several weeks ago that Landis disguised as Cornelia Woolfolk was similarly unthinkable.) Juliette had not had an ugly poster phase. Perhaps it was why they got along so well. “You must have had one or two things that you chose yourself,” she guessed, waiting for him to divulge. “I always had good taste,” she added, staring at the tree as she spoke to him. “If you mean a professional interior designer--” And clearly he had-- “Is decorating a Christmas tree so daunting?”

Her eyes were drawn away from the pine and baubles as he made his jab, her smile dissolving into something slightly more offended (though obviously not very). “My household charms are more than adequate. I can turn tea into exactly what it’s supposed to be.” Coffee. Surely he had not forgotten. She grabbed another ornament from the box. “But there are some things you should do the hard way, Landis.” Juliette would save the household charms for things like dog-proofing the kitchen, stealing and ironing Landis’ already pristine shirts before wearing them to work, and keeping urban gnomes away from her window planters. The Parisian sort were particularly nasty.

She picked a spot for the ornament presently in hand just as Louis loped over and began to sniff around the box. “No,” she said before even bothering to look at him. He looked up at her with the same bright puppy eyes he’d had from the start, only now he was much, much bigger. Finally, she matched his stare, her own reiterating the single syllable.

Even so... there was nothing quite like the soft spot a person could have for a pet. “How about dinner?” She asked-- obviously meaning the dog, not Landis. She handed the ornament to the blond man beside her, trusting him to make the all-important decision. The only way he was going to get good at is if she made him do it himself. She beckoned Louis away from the tree, which wasn’t hard when there was a promise of food (though no doubt the dog would find his way back to the strange obstacle during dessert. Dogs were not allowed chocolate.).

Unlike the tree decorations, serving Louis dinner could be done with magic. Juliette waved her wand a couple of times, directing the dog’s bowl to fill itself from the pantry and then land on the floor, in Louis’ little corner of the kitchen. It worked. Like magic.

Heading back toward the living room, she paused in front of the cake she had bought from her favorite bakery. She picked up two small white candles from the counter beside it and gingerly directed the cake to the oversized, distressed wooden table that sat between the kitchen and living room. “Landis,” she called. She waited for him to join, and then inclined just so over the (classically chocolate) cake, pressing the two candles into it. “It’s your favorite,” she said. By which she meant mine. He had been with her when she bought it. She lit both candles with her wand, eyeing him as she set it down, apparently some sort of silent attestation that her household charms were up to par.

"Interesting," he commented. "I was never really into glitter." He eyed her with amusement, wondering if she had been. He thought he could just see it, though it was easier to imagine a young Juliette choosing only a tasteful amount of the stuff then staring dismayed as it ended up in carpet, clothes, and hair to be discovered for the next decade. "The house elf put up our decorations. There was no reason for me to take an interest in it..." Perhaps when he was very small, but that would fall in the same category as the trips to America to visit family - he had been simply too young to remember. Landis shrugged, silent apology for his clear failings as a childhood-trained decorative enthusiast. "Enlighten me, professor."

That dog was a little beggar, and its eyes worked much better on Juliette than on Landis. She swanned off to fetch it food, and he went back to scrutinizing the tree. Carefully he placed the ornament four inches below and to the right of the the owl Juliette had placed before. Hopefully this one would not be judged as wanting a window view.

Instead of rejoining him, Juliette called him over for cake. He smirked as she lit the candles and stared him down, the smug curve of her lips daring him to comment on her candle-lighting skills or maybe the blatant falseness of her claim. It was conveniently close enough to both their birthdays for this to be a mutual celebration, but he had not had the choice as the type of cake. Juliette had swooped in on the most chocolate confection immediately. He had no qualms with it, but her bold-faced lie amused him.

"Really," he drawled. "I thought my favorite was plain vanilla sponge cake. Dry as the desert, preferably two weeks old." With a wave of his wand a drawer opened at the kitchen island and forks darted over to them. A bottle of wine followed. "Perhaps with some lemon drizzle if one's feeling posh. But chocolate? No, Juliette, you mistake me for someone much more exciting."

Juliette’s smile turned into a laugh at Landis’… obvious confession. Landis Morgan and glitter went together as well as First Years and subtlety. “No, nor was I. But I did have this lovely music box whose figurine was a bit sparkly. She was perfect. A fairy. I’m sure she had sharp little teeth behind her smile, but that just made her more divine. I think it’s still somewhere in my parents' house.” And then there were the few subdued sparkles on some of the baubles she had him fastening to the pine. There was elegance in discipline, and so Juliette had chosen well in more ways than one. And if some levels of discipline could be as maddening as they were appealing, well…

She had given him plenty of Christmas cheer to juggle. His request for enlightenment was an open invitation that she did not need, but one which she would accept delightedly, use as a reminder if Landis became unamused by any aspect of the Juliette version of yuletide.

Dry sponge cake. Wasn’t he humorous? The idea of Juliette purchasing such a thing.

“You are exciting,” she argued impatiently, her voice becoming softer as she moved to place fingers on his lips. After all, “I’m sure we just established that I have good taste.” If Landis was vanilla, it was the subtle, enviable sort that one wore on one’s clothes: understated as opposed to cloyingly sweet, but keenly discernible to those who knew. In this case, much more potent to taste. A perfect lover.

For cake, she preferred chocolate.

“It’s cheating a little,” she confessed, looking down at the cake as she withdrew her fingers. "Your birthday isn’t until tomorrow.” She looked up at him again, grinning with some cheeky wisdom, not an ounce of guilt. “But why would I buy a chocolate cake and let it sit lonely in the kitchen all night?” So expertly made, it was meant to be enjoyed. "I won’t tell if you won’t. Make your wish.”

Merely assuming that he would do the same— or not— she closed her eyes lightly. A smile came to her lips as Juliette lingered on a desire. And then her lashes were fluttering open and she was bending toward the confection. One candle was extinguished with a gentle blow. She drew back into her normal posture and waited for him to do the same. When she was satisfied with his participation, she lifted her wand and directed a handsome silver knife to cut into the dense cake. While the knife was busy, further demonstrating her astoundingly above-average domestic skills, Juliette leaned up to her blond librarian. She kissed him unhurriedly. “Happy birthday.” She pulled back and reached for a glass of the wine, took a small sip as she watched two slices of cake settle onto plates. "I have lemons if you want to ruin it.”

"You're too kind for that," Landis agreed, though the subtle humor in his expression implied: too impatient. He continued mildly, "If you think I'd object to a little cheating, remember which House I lead."

Instead of making his own wish he watched her make hers, observing unhurriedly as she closed her eyes in thought and leaned forward over the cake. Wishing on candles was a juvenile action except for when Juliette did it. She had a knack for instilling that which Landis normally deemed pointless with new and unexpected charm. He wondered what she was wishing for, but whether or not he agreed with the ritual he understand that it was the sort of question that one did not ask.... and one that Juliette certainly would not answer.

When she looked at him expectantly he quickly closed his eyes, paused for just long enough to appear to be deciding on a wish, then leaned in and blew his own candle out. He glanced at her afterwards, his eyes clear as glass, face smooth, hardly suspicious at all. Then he smiled. Whether or not she called him on it, he was only doing it to make her happy. That wasn't an excuse she could protest against.

“Happy birthday. I have lemons if you want to ruin it.”

He laughed. "Happy birthday to you too," he said. "Sorry you had to wait for your cake."

The euphemism for wavering willpower, too kind, brought a smile, despite Landis' expression saying what his voice did not. She would remember it the next time he refused dessert. She was too kind to leave chocolate in solitude. Especially here in Paris, where she knew all of the good restaurants, cafes, and bakeries. “How could I forget?” As long as they weren’t cheating in her class, the Slytherins' clever ambition was a highly admirable thing.

Trying to decipher whether Landis had actually done as she’d instructed was the sort of headache-inducing exercise that even Juliette was not keen to attempt, not now that they were about to have their cake. She was fairly adept at reading people, but she could hardly read Landis’ mind. She knew him better than most, she was sure, but he was still indecipherable at turns. The idea of Landis wishing on a candle was more than borderline ridiculous, however. Juliette might have been a woman willing to attempt to drag him into ridiculous situations, and to enjoy the results, but forcing him to do something he did not want to do… She might be trying for a very long while. Even so, for just a moment, she stared back, serene but with a certain glint that seemed to say that I know you know I know. She, at least, had made her wish.

Juliette wasn’t sorry they’d had to wait to celebrate. Pointless waiting, like waiting for a student who was already late to detention, or waiting for an excuse for the disappearance of someone's homework, was hardly abided. She could wait to celebrate her birthday in a more agreeable setting, though, certainly. One absent children's excuses. "I'm only sad we didn't get to share with the entire Great Hall.” She wasn't. They had done enough of that. But she spoke casually, pleasantly.

She sat down in one of the handsome wooden chairs that dotted the farmhouse table, and lifted her fork. The cake was perfect. Naturally. Juliette continued to appraise Landis' decorating skills between slow bites and sips of wine, until, about halfway through dessert-before-dinner, they were interrupted by a persistent tapping on the window that she had barely opened. Her own owl, who sat perched near the very same window, became ruffled upon sensing another. Juliette crossed from the table, wand raised, opening the window further as she approached. Cold air and a flap of wings invaded the living room. It was her father's owl. "You have terrible timing," she said in loving chastisement.

She assumed, at first, it was a holiday note: a reminder that their family would be gathering for Christmas dinner in the coming days. The hastiness of the seal, however, which her father always placed with care, and pride, was foreboding. She broke the seal with her wand and and unfolded the letter, eyes quickly absorbing the familiar hand. Her heart jumped a bit at the words, which were brief and insistent. “I have to go,” she said, re-reading the letter before turning to look at Landis. “Tonight. My grandmother. It’s an emergency.”

They ate in comfortable silence broken only by Juliette's occasional sly remark on his decorating skills. While not particularly deep in thought Landis was content with the quiet when it lapsed, and content to be with Juliette in it. There was the occasional idle brush of hand against hand or gaze against gaze but the familiar space, inundated with the other's presence, demanded nothing.

It was a nice moment, natural as breathing. Not something he would have ever expected to share with another. The effortlessness of this relationship occasionally still shocked him.

He was eating leisurely when the owl battered at the window, fork resting in his hand when he turned his head to watch. Juliette's expression stilled as she looked down at the face of the letter, and changed when she opened it. She read it twice before looking back up at him and he, for his turn, tracked the dart of her eyes in mounting expectation.

"Of course," he said, remembering now to lay the fork down. Landis was no stranger to urgency or to duty; he understood without disappointment the necessity of Juliette's exit. Perhaps later in the quiet of the flat, feeling her absence as he cleaned the half-empty plates and extinguished the lights on the unfinished tree, there could be... something. Something very small as he went to bed alone. Even then, it was unlikely to be anything more selfish than concern, wondering where Juliette slept that night and when she would return. At the moment he was nothing but clear-eyed purpose.  "Do you need me to come with you?"

She hesitated for moment. She had meant to spend tonight with Landis, to enjoy the holiday together, and to visit with her family before the break concluded and work beckoned. Now those plans were dissolving, just one sheet of parchment had done the job, and she did not know when she might return. “No. I’ll owl you when I know more,” she decided.

She had not envisioned introducing Landis to her parents at her grandmother’s sickbed, and she could imagine the elegant fit the matriarch might throw should a fever get in the way of scrutinizing the wizard at Juliette’s side. Unlike Juliette, who had met Landis’ parents and some of his cousins, and who knew his siblings well, Landis had only had the pleasure of meeting her eldest brother, Leandre. The quiet chaos in the Vaillancourt house at present hardly made now a moment for further introductions. Had she not received this particular owl, she would have invited Landis to meet them on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. But this was unexpected, and Juliette knew that he probably had much with which to occupy his time without having to wait with her.

“Or I’ll try to Floo if you’re in,” she added with a small smile, warm but a touch worried. Her grandmother was the sort of woman whom Juliette had always expected to live well into her hundreds. With luck, it would only be a scare, and the potioneer would be able to Apparate back to Paris soon. They had not exchanged gifts, even, and Juliette knew that it would have to wait. Landis was more than fine on his own, but Juliette would not let him open her gift without her. “Maybe we’ll celebrate on your real birthday, after all.” It was a calming thought, despite the looming news. She would, however, ask a favor or two… “Would you take care of Louis for tonight?” She knew how much he secretly (did not) love the dog.

At his name, said lovable creature came padding out of the open kitchen, having obviously devoured his dinner. Drops of water fell from his mug and his head tilted in a mixture of confusion and curiosity. Juliette was already waving her wand and gliding toward her bedroom, where small luggage began to pack itself, robes and dresses folding neatly into the tasteful case with which she would greet the other men in her life.