Qui n’avance pas, recule

“Obvious?” Marius scoffed. Did he really have to explain again that he hadn’t been around, but she finally seemed to get the gist of it. At least she didn’t ask for a reason why; he had a feeling she would begin to agree with Avery, which wasn’t something Marius would find to his… advantage. After all, he had only come to look for his wand again. “You have the means of going home—I just don’t think you’re using it right.”

Who was he to correct a socialite though? He wasn’t the one with the key to the vaults, and she didn’t seem like the type to bother really listening to his advice. “If you don’t like the décor, then get rid of it. Or leave. Move someplace else. Get a change of scenery. Why the hell isn’t Avery letting you change the décor? Vivienne does it all the time and I mean—cry all you want, it doesn’t matter—but isn’t just easier to make the change and essentially… avoid crying?”

It wasn’t really a secret that Avery was known to deal in some pretty interesting business, and not just in metallurgy. Marius wasn’t really doing the greatest job of really giving advice, nor was he really that great at comforting her or making her feel at home. “I’m sure someone could help you leave for the right price, but for now…”

Marius stepped back and kicked one of the chairs over. It didn’t break, but he had hoped it was a motivating start.

When he said she could go home she scoffed, shaking her head. She’d spent weeks trying to find the person responsible for deciding who went out of the country, she even thought about bribing the ministry official if it would only allow her to go home.  “If I had the means to leave I would have already.” 

It’s not that she didn’t think about changing the decor, she just hadn’t seen it as her right to do so. This wasn’t her house. She did not feel such limitations in the Riviera but that was because she felt comfortable there, comfortable enough to make sure everything was to her liking. If she changed something here she felt like she intruded. Avery gave her her personal space, it wouldn’t be right to take his. But she had been living here for a few months now, maybe she could start to change some small things and give it her touch?  “I didn’t say he didn’t let me change it.” She hadn’t asked. There was a difference. 

“Yes, I’m sure you’re missing home.” The travel ban had never been something that Finley had thought all that much about. He knew it was necessary because he had been told as such, and he trusted his father’s decision making abilities. He knew that Kingsley was a good leader and he put his faith in him to do the right thing. Or at least he used to. Finley was now questioning the methods of the ministry and as soon as Colette mentioned her inability to travel, he considered the ban in a new light for the first time.

Aside from being unable to go on holiday, it hadn’t impacted his life. He had assumed that everyone else would feel the same way, completely forgetting people like Colette, and even his wife, who had family and extended family overseas. He thought that over for a while, not sure how he should feel about the ban anymore. It wasn’t like they were any safer - things had only been getting worse since it was instated. 

“Yes, I’m sure my father wouldn’t be too happy. After quidditch was cancelled I’m not sure he’d want me breaking the rules just for a bit of fun. I guess neither of us are the people our parents wanted us to be.” Despite the negative sentiment of this statement, Finley said it with a smile. It was nice to not be his father’s golden boy anymore. It was kind of fun. And Finley was even more delighted to hear that Avery would be helping Colette learn how to play.

Avery and Colette’s marriage had been arranged much like his and Vivienne’s, and because of the similarities he had always been rooting for the pair to end up happily married. He wanted someone else, going through the same thing to end up happy as well. “I’m sure he’ll do a great job - but you know if you want an extra boost I have a few new brooms that could help out…”

“I am missing home. Terribly so.” Colette saw no use in hiding it or pretending that it was easier on her than it actually was. To her Britain was still a strange country and assimilating to it was taking it’s time. From the food, to the people to the language, everything was different. And the more she was getting used to it, the worse she felt. 

What she missed most was her family, when her sister wasn’t in school she was used to seeing her several times a week, or she went to dinner with her brother and his wife, stopped by her parents for a quick chat. Those were all things she couldn’t do anymore. Which made her feel even more lonely here. Avery’s and Finley’s families were here for the most part, hers was in another country, one she was prohibited in travelling to. It felt unfair.  

“Mine would have my head. They disowned my brother for disobeying them when they decided who he would marry... Who knows, maybe the shame of seeing me on a broom and being unladylike would be enough for them to do the same to me.” She tried making light of it and overplaying how much she missed her brother. It’s been years since she’s seen him and back before ran away they used to be extremely close. 

She wasn’t sure what she should think of Avery teaching her how to play Quidditch or how she should act when the  time came, but Finley was someone she considered a friend. He was trying to help her and she had an easier time accepting his help. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

Working for himself had given Finley the freedom to do what he wanted, when he wanted. If he chose to he could spend the entire day with friends or just doing nothing at all and then go home and work through the night. Of course he never chose to do this because if he wasn’t in bed by 10pm his eyes were blood shot the next day and he became incredibly grumpy. Still, it was nice to have the choice. When he had been under the Ministry’s thumb he’d never be able to pop out for a couple of hours to see a friend and so when Colette had invited him out he’d jumped at the opportunity to enjoy his new found freedom.

They had known each other for a very long time. Whenever he’d gone over to France to visit Vivienne and the rest of the Lestrange family, his parents had also met with the Montagues at least once and so he and Colette were left to play together as children. When Colette also married into the Lestrange family, Finley had found himself thankful. It was nice to have an ally in the family.

He entered to tea shop to find Colette already sitting, returning a smile in greeting. “I know, I know. Too long.” He took a seat opposite her flicking through the menu in front of him. “Oh, I’m fine. We’ve just been a little busy is all, I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner. You know how it is though, you get hit with an imperius curse and everything goes bottoms up so you have to start reconstructing your life - very standard stuff.” It was getting to the stage where Finley felt he could make jokes out of the situation without it being painful. “How are you? I hear you’re also going to be playing some Quidditch,” he lowered his voice slightly when he said this, knowing it was supposed to be a secret.

“Well, it looks like I’m gonna be stuck here a while longer, so I do hope that it won’t be as much time passed from to the next time we see each other.” She didn’t know how to tip-toe around the imperius subject, so she was glad that he was joking about it now, it made it less awkward. It certainly wasn’t an easy subject to approach and she hadn’t been how she would do so, or if she should just act like it didn’t happen. Clearly he was able to handle discussing it, which she was glad about. He went through a traumatic situation and it was good that he wasn’t bottling up his emotions. 

“I’m good. I think.” She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. It’s been a while since she talked to someone she considered a true friend of hers in person rather than over the fireplace or through a letter. “My mother would curse me into oblivion if she found out about this.” Colette’s nerves were obvious. She had always wanted to play in an actual Quidditch game, or fly a broom, but she had never had to opportunity to do so until now. There was both fear an excitement when she thought about it. “Avery said he would help me. He told me he used to play in school.” She vaguely remembered that from the beginning of their courtship, perhaps he mentioned it, but she hadn’t listened to much coming out of his mouth at that time. Now things were different... she didn’t know how to put it into words, but she was feeling a shift and she wasn’t sure what she should do about this. It was daunting, to put it lightly. She’d always pushed the thoughts of being married to him to the side as he had given her the freedom to do what she wanted back in the Riviera. None of her friends had been given the same luxury when they got married. It was something she had taken for granted before. They had spent some time together recently, probably more than they had in the entirety of their marriage until this last year. 

It wasn’t long after the match had ended that Ethan had stalked off towards the outskirts of the pitch, brooding over his most recent loss. It was for the better. Ethan wasn’t known for his calm demeanor or his ability to lose with grace, and he sure as hell couldn’t stomach another taunt or jeer from one of those wannabe Quidditch players. Distancing himself before he could do anything rash or stupid was certainly in his best interest. Alfie had taught him that. 

Lost in his own frustrations, Ethan wasn’t paying much attention when Colette made her way over to him and like hell he was expecting her company post match anyway. As she approached him, Ethan’s jaw tightened, bracing himself for more taunts and jeers about his performance. The wide smile she was sporting only made it worse. There were only so many more times the athlete be humiliated in one day before he burst. First, there was finding out that she was married, and now he couldn’t even win a match in a sport he was paid professionally to do.  

When it was clear Colette didn’t intend on taunting him, Ethan sighed in an attempt to gather himself. “Not bad.” he tried, frustration still washing over him. Even if she was merely asking for his opinion, he wasn’t quick to forget they were opponents in their most recent match. “For a first time, I guess.” he added unable to truly shake the small hint of distain from his voice.

Watching Quidditch from the sidelines had been one thing, but actually being on a broom herself an playing it? It was a completely different feeling. She felt free. Like she could do anything while up in the air. She thought that that was what freedom would feel like. Not that she had ever had it. In the air no one could tell her what to do. The feeling was new, but it was nice. 

Knowing that Ethan was a professional player she figured it must be frustrating for him to lose. She didn’t think it was his fault that his team lost, she didn’t think that many of the people playing here today were actual professionals. If he was playing with his team they probably would’ve won every game. It was obvious that he was angry and she felt like she played a part in that. Colette didn’t think the evening they spent together talking was distracting him during the game, but if it did she owed him an apology. 

“Thank you.” She nodded once, not trying to gloat but a small smile did appear at the corner of her lips again. “Well, I am planning on getting better with time.” As long as her parents didn’t find out and scream at her for being a disappointment to them and their legacy, that was. “Is there anything specific you noticed I should get better at?”

“Like you would have said so.” Ethan replied, half teasing and half suppressing the eye roll that threatened to follow. It took him two drinks and loads of witty banter to barely even earn her name by the end of the evening. Like hell he was going to get much more than that, let alone her martial status and connections to the Lestrange name. Even if his efforts hadn’t turned out in his favor, Ethan had rather appreciated the mystery behind the encounter. It was oddly refreshing not to be recognized, and perhaps he wasn’t the only one that felt that way.

Overall, the chaser was rather pleased with how well he was taking the discovery of this newfound information. It was certainly much better than he ever would have expected. Getting played wasn’t something Ethan Wood was ever used to, even if it was a generous helping of his own medicine, and he never did well in second place, though he liked to think he had made strides since his school days with his short temper and rough edges. That was, at least, when Alfie was around to keep him in check.  

“Yeah, of course. Secret’s safe with me.” Ethan replied, nodding along as she explained herself. What else was he supposed to say? Besides, now wasn’t the time to dwell on how foolish he had been or cause a commotion about it. He had a match to get ready for, one that would be getting underway soon. “Right, well, I look forward to seein’ what you got out there.” He added, leaving her with a cheeky smile as he prepared to return to his warm-ups. 

“Perhaps I would’ve.” She shrugged, her tone coy. He didn’t know her well enough, but it was obvious that he was doubtful about her revealing her ‘relationship-status’ if he had asked. That is why she had enjoyed herself that night. It had been anonymous and she didn’t have to put on the front of picture perfect pureblood wife that had been drilled into her from a young age. It was exhausting, so she had needed this one night to just breathe and relax. 

“Merci.” It would have been rather unfortunate and uncomfortable had what transpired come out - not that something actually happened, but the stigma would be there. The none existent reputation she had here could crumble down by a few unfounded allegations and she did not need that at all. “I cannot promise I’ll be too good in the first match, but I’ll give it my all.”

After the match she was in high spirits. It’s been years since she competed in a sporting event and it was obvious how much she had missed the excitement and adrenaline that came with it. There was a certain kind of rush after winning, it was hard to put into words. She’d been in the same team as Avery and they had actually played well together. Perhaps because he had been the one that helped her practice beforehand. During one of the breaks she walked over to Ethan, wide smile on her face. “So, out of a professionals view, how was I?” She knew that most of the players had more experience than she had, but she thought for her first game it was pretty good. 

Ethan’s eyes widen as she revealed her true identity. It was her surname that was particularly interesting to him. Lestrange. Not only because it indicated that she was spoken for, but it was a name that the chaser had always associated with the Dark Arts and a shady past. Ethan was one to talk, however, his own reputation often preceding him as well, build on rumors and gossip. Some it of it true and some of it false, and all of it a burden. He had enough sense though to not place judgement at the mere mention of a name and guessed it was probably better to lay low. Especially in times like these.  

“Could’ve just said so.” Ethan shrugged, chuckling a bit as his eyes trailed down towards the impressive rock ring she was sporting on her ring finger, curious as to why it was missing the evening they shared drinks. “I guess I’ll just go with your house elf was getting that bad boy cleaned the other night or some shit.” he added, teasing and no longer bothering to censor himself. This was his turf now, and the pitch never failed to bring out the competitive jock in him.

Shrugging again, Ethan’s teasing nature softened, and he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his athletic pants. Sure, Ethan was the guy who flirted and teased, and it was no secret that he had a hard time controlling himself around beautiful women, but even Rita Skeeter’s favorite rowdy boy had a moral code contrary to popular belief. Warped and misguided, but a code none the less. “Anyway, your husband’s a lucky bloke.” he offered, an olive branch of sorts for his foolishness. A half hearted smile played at his lips. “So what brings you to the pitch? I thought it wasn’t proper.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out his surprise and perhaps shock at her reveal, his eyes widening when he heard her last name. People in England have been doing that more than in France, which she chalked up to most of the war being fought here. It held a similar prestige in France as her maiden name Montague, which is why their parents decided to match them together. 

Colette shrugged. “You didn’t ask.” Not that she would’ve revealed anything if he did ask. It had been nice talking to someone and having anonymity. He didn’t know her, she didn’t know him. There were no preconceived notions or impressions. She followed his gaze to the ring on her finger, pressing her lips together at his crude language, the accusation behind it clear.  He wasn’t wrong, but she wouldn’t admit that. “I want it to look perfect after all.” She purposefully left it at the Manor that night. Wearing it reminded her of the pressure that was put on her to act a certain way, it announced to everyone that she spoken for.

A lot has changed since they had last spoken, perhaps more than she was willing to admit to herself at this moment in time. He didn’t seem to be flirting with her now, she’d be surprised if he would knowing her husband was near.  “That’s very kind of you.” Colette smiled softly. She was thankful that he wasn’t making a scene. “It’s not, but I’ve always been curious about Quidditch. I figured that if my mother were to find out about this, I could tell her that I was simply here to support Avery. She does not have to know that I’m taking part in this.” 

Avery felt his ears grow warmer with her chuckling and compliment. The heir wasn’t under any illusion that he was terribly unattractive, but having been the only one in his family other than his father that didn’t possess veela blood, he was used to sinking into the background. Never too boring or improper to seem irrelevant–no, his stepmother would never tolerate that–but it was rare to be genuinely noticed. He bit the inside of his cheek, looking at her sheepishly.

“Yes, thank you – she–” Avery looked down at his attire, running his hands down the carefully tailored suit as if it still needed adjustment under her scrutiny. “I was advised that this is a more… classic… look. Can’t be trying to outshine the real beauty now, can we?” He raised his gaze to her again with a playful smile. “But hopefully still a suitable date nonetheless.” 

The eldest Lestrange offered his arm to his wife, prepared to direct them towards the floo that would connect them to his sister’s home. “I hope you don’t mind us arriving a little earlier than usual. With all Vivenne has been doing on her own lately, I figured she could use the extra help, even if it is just our support. I–”

If he were being honest, he had also been hoping to catch his brother-in-law before the festivities got too under way. After all, he didn’t want to rain on his sister’s parade after all she had gone through over the past weeks, but he had no intentions of letting Finley’s behavior pass by unaddressed. “I suppose we should also welcome our brother back…”

Colette wasn’t sure why she complimented him, never really having done so beyond a polite compliment in public where other people would hear it. Now there was no one else here with them that she was putting on a show for and she was watching him to see how he would react. He wasn’t boastful or sending a cocky smile her way, instead he seemed almost...shy? That couldn’t be right, could it? Colette didn’t know him well enough to interpret his mannerisms with certainty. 

Pleased that she’d been correct with the assessment of who got him this suit she let a small smile appear on her lips, it was widening when he complimented her again with his next words. She couldn’t help it when his words sounded so genuine. “Thank you. You have certainly managed to capture the classic elegance you were intending for.” She wasn’t sure why she was complimenting him again either, but the words left her mouth before she had much time to think about it. 

She had been refusing to spend time with him ever since they got married, running off to the Riviera as an avoidance tactic. She knew that he hadn’t done anything wrong personally, that they were both made to be in this marriage, so she told herself that she was doing him a favor by not being around much. She was letting him have his freedom, but now that she was physically unable to leave, her desire to run away wasn’t quite as strong anymore. 

Holding the hand up that wasn’t delicately placed on his arm, to stop him from rambling. “I don’t mind. I think it’s important that you support your sister now.” She was close to her own siblings after all, family was incredibly important to her so she couldn’t fault him for wanting to help his sister, even if she knew that she’d most likely stand around alone waiting for the guests to arrive while he was with his sister. 

The way he called Vivienne’s husband their brother was something new to her or that he was speaking of them as a plural instead of two separate entities. Perhaps it surprised her that he considered her to be part of his family, even when the logical part of her brain knew that that was what he was supposed to say since they have been married for several years now. Colette didn’t dwell on the fact that she didn’t immediately recoil at the thought. “It would come off rude if we didn’t welcome him back properly.”

Ethan had arrived at the pitch early, keen on staking out the competition. He had already recognized a few familiar faces as they strolled out onto the green, and from the looks of it, the competition was nothing a professional chaser like him couldn’t handle. With an eye still latched on the pitch entrance, Ethan began his pre-match warm-ups, breaking out into a slow jog towards the edge of the field. It was then he spotted a familiar brunette, one he would never have expected to grace the pitch.

He did a double take just to be sure it was her, a wicked grin playing on his lips. This was his turf now, and Ethan Wood did always relish the chance to showoff his athletic abilities. As he jogged closer to get a good look at her from across the pitch, his smirk faded. She still looked elegant and refined to him, the only difference was that this time she wasn’t alone and was adored with an enormous sparkler that wasn’t there the last time they met.

Immediately, Ethan slowed, laughing to himself and shaking his head at what a complete dunderhead he had been. He should have known better, especially after his spin the bottle chats with Finely in regards to the bloke’s own marriage within high society. How could Ethan have been so draft? 

“Didn’t think back-alley Quidditch was your speed, Cora...” Ethan called out to her in an attempt to maintain his pride. Jogging over to her, he abandoned the rest of his pre-match rituals, dropping his voice low once in range, smirk etched into the fissures of his jawline. “If that’s even your real name.” 

@lestrangecolette

She hadn’t planned on joining this Quidditch game when she first heard about it, the hundreds of times her parents reminded her how improper it would be of her to join in such frivolous activities. That she was better than that and that such a game wasn’t fit for a girl like her. Still, she couldn’t help but be curious. The sport itself always interested her but she had not sat on a broom before or even flown with it. 

The decision to join the game came to her when her husband announced that he would be playing, it would be a good enough reason if her parents would find out about this (which she hoped that they wouldn’t as it would save her a lot of trouble). While she didn’t agree with them about the propriety of trying to play Quidditch, she did not want to make a fool of herself by not knowing how to control her broom. She needed to look poised an elegant. So she spent a week practicing, hours upon hours each day wanting to fly on the broom as well as she did on an Abraxan. Her abilities on the broom did not match those yet, but she was confident that it could with more time and practice. 

“This is my first time playing Quidditch instead of watching it.” Colette wasn’t sure why she was trying so hard, but this was the first thing here in England that brought her actual joy and excitement, something to focus on that made her miss home a little less. She was stretching when she heard Ethan’s voice. Grimacing. She had not seen him since that night they shared a couple of drinks. There was no use in hiding who she was now, the ring was sparkling brightly on her finger.  “It isn’t my name, technically. My name is Colette Lestrange.” When she got married she lost the ability to call herself a Montague, she was part of a different legacy now. 

Ethan nodded, never one to turn down a compliment especially when it came to his beloved sport. He was grateful she didn’t press onward with talks of the World Cup and instead pressed his luck once more turning his attention towards her. “Impressive enough to earn your name?” The chaser mused. “I’m Ethan. Ethan Wood.” he added, a proper introduction practically foreign to him. Everyone always seemed to already know who Ethan was, not to mention who he was shagging and who his getting into a fist fight with. It was refreshing not to have the stigma attached…at least not yet. 

Eyes wide, Ethan listened along enthralled by the mechanics of the game, mind reeling with possibilities. Flying horses, breeding, muggle polo. He may not have been familiar with either sport, but he certainly was intrigued. “Sounds brilliant. I bet you could play Quidditch on them, too. Like a hybrid game or something.” Ethan offered, filled with all the boyish wonderment of his teenage self, a part of him that seemed to be ages away for some time now. 

“Proper? What’s that got to do with anything?” Ethan questioned though he already gathered some semblance of the answer. Having picked up on the small tidbits of information she was offering, it seemed that the woman had a high society upbringing. Ethan was beginning to learn that with such privilege often came limitations. A shame really. He had played with and against so many brilliant female Quidditch players. Hell, his own Mum was one. 

Narrowing his eyes into teasing slits, Ethan returned her chuckle with one of his own, a cheeky grin sprawling to the edge of his jawline. His relentless confidence returned to him, and he brought an elbow to the countertop, leaning in and dropping his voice down low. “Lucky, I don’t scare easily then.”

With that, Ethan helped himself to a generous sip of champagne before attempting the French words once more under his breath. Another chuckle escaped him, and he found the brunette’s attempt at the English saying rather amusing. “Practice makes perfect,” Ethan said, rising his glass and clinking it with hers. “but I like your way better.” 

She wasn’t sure if she should tell him her name. While him being a professional Quidditch player did impress her, there were other things she had to think about. There could be consequences to this and she did quite like her anonymity at the moment..  “Cora.” It was close enough to her real name. It was a nickname given to her by her siblings when she was younger. She didn’t necessarily go by it, but it seemed like a good compromise in her mind. She didn’t mention a last name, deciding to keep at least that much private. His name didn’t ring any bells in her mind but she made a mental note to read up on him. After all ones reputation said a lot about them. 

 At his suggestion of playing Quidditch on Abraxans she tilted her head sideways in consideration of the idea. One would have to properly think it out and adapt rules and everything, but it wasn’t impossible. “I suppose so.”

A soft chuckle left her lips as she took a sip from her champagne. Being proper was a thing of utmost importance, instilled into her from a young age. Colette didn’t have the freedom kids from other families had had. “I could’ve gotten my clothes dirty, or messed up my hair. It would’ve reflected badly on my parents, would’ve made people say I wasn’t raised right.” She shrugged. She was used to it by now. There was a time she tried rebelling, but there was little use to that. 

“I think we’ll have to decide about that going forward...” It was interesting to see, his confidence was refreshing even if it was bordering on overconfidence. She’d much rather talk to a man that believed in his worth than one that didn’t recognise it. 

It was basically the same thing, so she considered it as a win in her mind. Being embarrassed crossed her mind for a moment, but with his charming words that thought left her head quickly. “I am afraid that this is where we will have to part ways. I am expected somewhere else.”  Back at the manor, where her husband was. 

If there was one way to get Ethan Wood talking it was definitely Quidditch, astronomy occasionally, but definitely Quidditch. “Yeah, been playing for as long as I could remember. Mum even says I could fly before I could walk. Played for Gryffindor in school, then Montrose—you’re lookin’ at their top goal scorer—and then England in the World Cup…” He cut himself short, a welling growing in the pit of his stomach. Months had passed but bringing up that disastrous day still never got any easier. 

At her comment, Ethan’s eyes widened in genuine curiosity, for once seizing the opportunity to take the attention off him. Though Quidditch was his first love, Ethan had always been fascinated with other sports in the wizarding and non-wizarding communities, like Muggle soccer and Quodpot in the states. Perhaps this was something the French were famous for. 

“Abraxans? Like the flying horses? That’s brilliant! Is it a kind of game as well? Like with a pitch and everything?” His curiosity grew and so did his excitement, leaning in towards the brunette and continuing before before even giving her a chance to answer his rapid fire questioning. “Tell ya what, once all this travel nonsense is over you gotta show me all about Abraxans. Until then this whole never being on a broomstick thing has to change, yeah?”

The chaser laughed. Quidditch analogies were more Alfie’s thing, but Ethan had learned a thing or two from his pseudo big brother before he passed, and it always helped Ethan when things were broken down into Quidditch terms. “Oh, it was meant to be.” He reassured her through a widening grin. “And the snitch is damn near impossible to catch. Chasers aren’t even supposed to go after it. It’s considered a foul.” 

Ethan listened carefully as the older woman pronounced the French words. “De rien.” the chaser tried, repeating the words as closely as he could. A boyish chuckle followed, and he helped himself to a sip of champagne to dowse the crude sound. “I’m goin’ to have to practice.” 

“That is quite the impressive resume. I’ve got to say. I’m impressed.” He did seem like an athlete and the most popular sport in Wizarding Britain was Quidditch. Playing for the national team was surely not an easy spot to achieve, so he must be good, she mused. Colette noticed him stop himself but decided not to press further. She didn’t know him well enough for that. They had only met tonight. 

“Exactly. My headmistress, Madame Maxime, is one of the best breeders in France. Her Abraxans are very obedient and good to train. My parents got me one of the horses from her for my birthday one year. I heard that you can compare it to this one muggle game. Polo? But it is in the air too, mostly.” Colette smiled when she spoke about it, her sense of nostalgia returning. How she wished she was home right now, flying through the air with her horse. Out of reflex she shook her head when he mentioned she should learn to fly on a broom. “Oh, I couldn’t, possibly. It wouldn’t be proper.” Plus, she doubted her husband would be pleased with her taking flying lessons from a professional athlete.

She chuckled, proud of herself that she had gotten the analogy. Things like that were much easier for her to understand in French, but she had picked up on his mannerisms when he said it, which had helped. “You’re playing a dangerous game then.” She took a sip of her champagne, pausing for a moment before answering him. 

“Pretty good for your first time.” He hadn’t completely butchered it and she did see that he tried so she was pleased with it. It was odd to her talking in English so frequently now and she was sure that she mispronounced some things as well. “Perfect needs practice...No, that’s not right.. how does that saying go?” It was something like that, she was pretty sure. 

“Ah well, the skies here might not always be clear and blue, but let me tell you, when they are, they’re bloody worth it… you’ll see…” Ethan trailed, his turn to be wrapped up in a sense of nostalgia. Oh, how the chaser had missed the skies, too. Any skies for that matter, the cool breeze and the rush of barreling a quaffle through a hoop hundreds of feet in the air. He brought a hand to the nape of his neck, shrugging and offering the brunette a wistful smile. “Trust me, I’d know. I play Quidditch.”

Ethan’s teasing expression didn’t falter, smug and confident just as the woman had noted. Her observation was shamelessly true; Ethan always did have a nasty little habit of counting his dragons before they hatched. In this case, it seemed to be a good sign. Proof that even after everything: the World Cup, the trauma, the loss, he was slowly pulling himself back together and returning to his usual, more playful nature. “But you didn’t say no either, and I’m a chaser. Doesn’t matter how many points I score, game’s not over until the snitch is caught.” 

With a nod, Ethan listened along as the woman beside him spoke about her night out preferences. It didn’t surprise him that she had high standards for the places she frequented. Just from the looks of her alone, dingy pubs and dive bars clearly weren’t her scene. “Probably haven’t found the right one yet. Like I said, I know a few places.” Ethan tried. He wasn’t particularly picky as long as the whiskey was good and the eyes weren’t prying. A dance floor was a nice touch, too.

For the second time this evening, Ethan ordered drinks and when they arrived slipped the server coins in exchange for champagne as crooked smile grew on his lips. The papers could call him a jerk, a ladies man, or reckless all they wanted, but they sure as hell couldn’t call him cheap. “Yeah, of course.” he said, laughing a bit as tried to recall his limited French. “Er, how do say you’re welcome again?”

Colette rested her chin on top of her hands, tilting her head sideways as she listened to him. “I’ll have to see it to believe it.” Everything she had witnessed since she came here made her doubt the rosy view he was trying to portray, but perhaps she was biased, because she was definitely not an impartial judge. In her mind nothing matched up to her home. “You do? That’s interesting. Tell me more about that. I’ve always been fascinated by Quidditch. There have even been a few games I went to over the years back at home.” She took an interest in trying the sport as a child, but her parents forbid her from learning how to play, saying it was improper and not ladylike. Which is why she turned to Abraxans. 

“I do not think I have ever ridden an actual broom, my parents thought Abraxans were more fitting for someone like me.” It was unnecessary to her to elaborate on that, knowing that he gathered a bit about the kind of person she was from their conversation. While she was upset as a five year old that she was not allowed to fly a broom like her brothers, she fell in love with the Abraxans immediately. There were none that she knew of here, her sister was currently taking care of Jeune which was her horse. 

“So I take it I’m the snitch in this analogy then? And that I should take it as a compliment?” She raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her voice. Colette wasn’t offended by it. It was all in good fun. Which is what she planned on making this night. British Quidditch teams weren’t something she was knowledgeable about, so she could not say which team he was on.  “I’ll remember that.” If she’d come back to that was another thing. Maybe she’d let him take her to another bar another time, but she made her mind up for tonight.

A small smile appeared on her lips again as he asked her for help with his French, taking a sip from her champagne before answering him. “You can say Je t'en prie, but saying De rien has the same meaning and it would probably be easier for you to say.” 

For one reason or another, Ethan ignored the opportunity to picture the pretty brunette laying by the pool in a bikini, and instead softened his eyes trying to understand the weight behind her words. There was a distance—a sadness even—in the way she spoke about her home country. Like how Alfie used to speak of his art or his sister. “Nah, you’re right. Weather here is absolute shit—” Ethan cut himself short, a man known more for his actions and brute force rather than elegant language and comforting words. He tried again. “Er, sorry. Guess it takes some gettin’ used to. Enough to make anyone miss home.” 

With the possibility of a next time, he raised a teasingly brow. Ethan Wood was a lot of things: arrogant, reckless, determined, but he sure as hell wasn’t shy. This small victory was written all over his face.  Maybe. He could work with maybe. 

“Eh, not my first choice.” Or second or third. This place was far more fancy than the bars and clubs the team typically liked to frequent. They required a particular code of conduct that Ethan was was infamous for disregarding. Much to his publicist’s relief, he seemed to be doing alright tonight. “Always gotta be on your best behavior at places like these, ya know…but the whiskey’s good.”

Once she agreed to another drink with him, Ethan nodded towards their server, beckoning him to come over. He glanced over at the woman before he ordered, a satisfied smile returning to him. She could have turned him down again, settled for the one drink and than paid him no mind. That had to count for something. “Champagne this time, yeah? Like France.“

Colette chuckled, deciding not to say anything about him cursing because when it came to this subject she wasn’t shy of letting a few curse words spill out from her lips either. This situation was less than ideal and the fact that there was no specific she could actually blame was infuriating. Logically thinking she knew it wasn’t her husband’s fault, but they were never close anyways so she kept her distance. “I just miss feeling the sun on my skin and looking up to clear blue skies.” 

Perhaps Colette was romanticising her home, but it’s where she spent most of her life, she felt like she belonged there. She didn’t have friends nor family here so she felt out of place, which in turn made it harder for her to try to like the UK. “Don’t get too confident now, I didn’t say yes.” Her tone warned him but she had an amused twinkle in her eyes. His ego had clearly gotten a boost from her not flat out denying him, but she thought she could give him that since she hadn’t even told him her name yet. 

“This is one of the few nice places I’ve discovered since I’ve been here.” Colette had high standards when it came to a night out and those were difficult to reach. She found most bars here dirty or crowed, she liked to have room to move around and have her personal space. “I don’t like those pubs you have here, makes me feel very out of place.” They could smell a foreigner from a mile away it seemed. 

This night had definitely turned out different to what she had expected but so far she was having a pretty good time. Surprisingly. “Champagne sounds lovely, merci.” 

Leaning forward, Ethan rest his chin in palm of his hand, elbow planted firmly on the table beside his near-empty whiskey glass. Nodding along intently, he gave the older woman his undivided attention, curious as to a true mademoiselle’s take on the city. “Guess that means I’ll just have to go back and see it again. With your counsel in mind, ‘course.”

As the brunette declined Ethan’s offer, he somehow managed a lighthearted snicker. It didn’t surprise him that she didn’t want to galavanting off with some stranger she had only met a little while ago. Hell, he couldn’t even get her name, he wasn’t really expecting some alone time. What did surprise him, however, was just how well he was taking turndown after turndown. It was intoxicating, thrilling even because, Quidditch player or not, when it game to playing the field Ethan rarely ever had to chase.

“Trust me, love. You don’t strike me as the type.” Ethan mused before helping himself to another generous sip of firewhiskey. The smirk that followed stretched across Ethan’s features as wide and as cheeky as ever. “Maybe that’s what I’m liking about you.”

He paused to set his glass back down before explaining himself further. “But I only meant somewhere not as stuffy. Ya know, good music, dancin’… some place that’s actually a good time.” If he was forced to be out by his publicists and make appearances, he might as well take his teammate’s advice and make the best of the situation. “Unless you really fancy this place that much, in which case, I’m goin’ to need more to drink. Can I get you another?”

“You can never get sick of Paris. It’s such a beautiful city and the atmosphere is amazing. If I’m being honest, I think I just  miss France in general. I used to spend all my days on the Riviera, going to the sea, lying by the pool...” Colette sighed as she trailed off, getting a far away look in her eyes before she was brought back to reality. She knew she didn’t have it bad now, but opposite to the life she used to lead until now it was definitely a change. “I miss the good weather. The sun here just doesn’t quite feel the same.” Perhaps it was ridiculous and a figment of her imagination, but that’s how she felt. She was speaking more openly than she was used to, not really having a friend here to confide in. Writing letters to everyone back home was one thing, but speaking about it in person felt different. 

She was pleased to find that her denying his advances time and time again didn’t bother him. The best way to see a man’s character was to reject him and see how he took it. Some got so unpleasant, rude even. They could not handle her saying no to them and she found that incredibly unattractive. Colette enjoyed the chase most of all aspects of courtship. The attention was what she craved the most. Someone actually seeing her, noticing her. Even if all they were actually noticing were her looks. 

“Is that so? Interesting.” She smiled, shaking her head in amusement at his smirk and bold remark. One thing he definitely wasn’t was subtle. He was making his intentions clear. She just hasn’t decided yet if she should reward him for that or not. He was fun to spend time with, for now that was enough.

“Maybe another time. I do like to dance but not in such crowded places with strangers bodies all up in my personal space.” Him getting a maybe from her was progress. She didn’t flat out deny his offer, even if it was clear that she wouldn’t be accepting it at this time. “For an English bar, it’s not too bad, but I take it you don’t like it much? ” That much wasn’t hard to figure out. “Sure, that would be lovely. Thank you.” It wasn’t too late in the night yet, she could stay a bit longer.

“How would you describe it then?” Ethan asked in genuine interest, resting his whiskey glass on the table. His usual cheeky banter didn’t seem the way to go with these high society women. It certainly wasn’t even enough to earn him the privilege of knowing her name, but Ethan was a professional athlete after all, and he sure as hell could the play the long game. 

At her apology, Ethan raised a playful brow, small smirk growing on his lips. Muggle or not, he assumed that it was some universal right of passage for women to not only listen to, but perform high-pitched karaoke to a selection by the British pop group he referenced. Ethan himself was a pureblood, raised to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a legendary chaser which didn’t leave room for silly distractions like pop culture. If it wasn’t for his time spent with Alfie and his sisters, he might not have known who the girlband was either. Even their mother, Naomi, was a fan.

“Yeah, it’s a muggle reference. She was part of some music group from the UK. Real fit and super posh like you. Ended up marrying this British footballer…” Ethan paused, not typically one to indulge such tabloid nonsense having been written about on countless occasions himself. Perhaps it wasn’t such a terrible thing keeping names and identities to themselves for now.

For a moment, background music occupied the dull air, the kind Ethan would describe as traditional and stuffy. It reminded him of the Ministry events he was forced to show his face at. “But I don’t think they’ll be playing any of that here, and I doubt they’re taking requests. I know a place not far from here if you’re up for a little change of pace later.” 

Colette paused, pursing her lips together as she thought. She was not the type of person that spoke before she thought, everything that came out of her mouth was calculated. “Elegant. Certainly more classy than to what you were alluding to earlier. It’s the city of lights. The architecture is stunning and the people have a certain air about them that you don’t find here.” At least that was what she thought. Did she think French people had more class than Brits and Americans? Certainly. 

When he said it was a muggle reference she nodded, feeling slightly better now that she did not look idiotic for not knowing what it was. A music group that from what he said she assumed to no longer be together, so it couldn’t be a current one. The odds of her knowing who he was referring to were slim, but she felt that the explanation sufficed. “Thank you. The corners of her lips turned upwards at his compliment, there was rarely a time she didn’t enjoy being complimented. 

People here could recognise her, someone that knew her husband and thus knew who she was could come in at any moment. Talking with a man at a bar was one thing, but leaving with him and risk getting seen and talked about by the tabloids was another. Besides, he was a stranger and she did not know her way around here, it would be foolish to go to another place with him. A place she didn’t know.  “If that was your attempt at trying to get me to come home with you, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you. I am not, comment je dis ça? .. Easy.”