Louis tightened his grip slightly on Fleur's hand as the wrought-iron gates of the Delacour estate opened before them, revealing a tree-lined path bathed in golden spring sunlight. The manor rose elegantly at the end of the path, nestled amidst rolling green hills in southern France. Its pale stone walls, delicate blue shutters, and flowering terraces radiated a gentle warmth. It was a charming and refined home, enchanted in subtle ways that whispered rather than boasted.
"Welcome to my home," Fleur said with a glowing smile.
"It's beautiful," Louis replied honestly, taking in the gentle sway of wildflowers and the subtle enchantments that seemed to hum beneath the surface of the grounds.
Inside, a tall, graceful woman waited in the entryway. Her presence radiated quiet confidence—soft golden hair swept back, eyes both warm and sharp. Apolline Delacour, Fleur's mother, and Louis' former professor from his early magical education in France, stepped forward with a radiant smile.
"Louis ," she said, eyes widening with surprise. "How you've grown... Mon dieu, I can hardly believe it's the same boy who studied theory with such passion a few years ago."
Louis gave a respectful bow. "Madame Delacour. It's an honor to see you again."
Apolline approached and placed her hands lightly on his shoulders, examining him with a mixture of motherly warmth and academic curiosity. "You've become quite the young wizard, I hear. Fleur tells me stories that sound almost mythic."
"She may exaggerate," Louis said, grinning slightly.
"I doubt that," Apolline replied with a wink.
After a brief but affectionate reunion, Apolline left them to settle in. Though Louis knew the manor fairly well, Fleur insisted on giving him a short tour. A few renovations had changed the layout, including an expanded conservatory and an upgraded study room charmed to amplify focus during magical reading.
Fleur gave Louis a guest room near hers—lightly perfumed with lavender and charmed with a gentle breeze enchantment that fluttered the curtains. The view overlooked the valley and the estate's forest border, alive with birdsong and hidden enchantments.
Later that evening, the two of them spent time with Gabrielle, Fleur's bubbly three-year-old sister. She ran around the house with the limitless energy of a fire sprite, clinging to Fleur and giggling at Louis' playful spells that made her toys twirl and dance mid-air.
The following days passed in a delightful blur.
The estate offered everything they could want—peace, space, and beauty. They swam in the crystal-clear spring hidden behind flowering trees, practiced spells in a sun-dappled clearing, and walked under the stars at night, whispering thoughts only they could hear through their mental bond.
Midway through the week, Fleur's father, Armand Delacour, returned from a diplomatic trip. As he entered the manor at dusk, he found Louis and Fleur in the salon, seated side by side reviewing magical theory parchments scattered across the table.
"Louis," Armand said with his usual deep voice, raising an eyebrow. "Back again, I see."
Louis stood respectfully. "Bonjour, Monsieur Delacour."
Armand's gaze swept between them—familiar, but a touch more inquisitive than before. While he had met Louis several times already and knew him to be polite, noble, and immensely talented, the recent closeness between him and Fleur had not escaped his notice.
He said nothing at first, simply moving to the fireplace and warming his hands. After a few moments, he turned back.
"You've been traveling quite a bit with Fleur, I hear."
"Oui, sir. We've seen some beautiful places… and learned a lot together," Louis answered calmly.
Armand studied him for a moment longer, then gave a subtle nod—less of suspicion, more of silent acknowledgment. He wasn't ready to say it aloud, but the respect was there.
"Good," he said. "Just don't forget your studies."
Fleur rolled her eyes slightly and smiled, while Louis chuckled. It was the kind of quiet approval that meant everything coming from a father.
Two days later, Fleur arrived in the study with a triumphant smile and a rolled parchment in her hand.
"Madame Maxime agreed!" she announced.
Louis blinked. "Really?"
"Of course!" she said proudly. "I told her about you—your magical talents, your theories, your work at Hogwarts. She's intrigued."
"She agreed just like that?"
"Well... I may have also mentioned your title and your recent dive into ancient magical knowledge," she said with a mischievous grin. "She was curious enough to come fetch us herself."
True to her word, the next morning, Madame Maxime—tall, regal, and exuding grace—arrived at the estate.
"Monsieur De Versailles," she greeted him with a deep voice and polite nod. "It is rare we receive visitors from Hogwarts, rarer still those with such... promise."
Together, the three traveled by enchanted carriage to Beauxbatons.
Nestled in the snow-capped Pyrenees, the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was a vision of classical beauty. Marble colonnades and gleaming glass domes reflected the sunlight, and gardens bloomed even in winter thanks to meticulous enchantments. It felt less like a school and more like a magical sanctuary.
Louis was captivated. "It's like walking into a dream," he murmured.
"Or a memory," Fleur said softly beside him. "It reminds me of your home, too. The harmony, the light…"
They toured the Hall of Whispers, where magic responded to spoken emotion, and the Gallery of Living Portraits—paintings that debated magical theory aloud. Fleur introduced him to her former classrooms and favorite gardens, to the hidden archways and elevated balconies where she used to study in silence.
Louis admired the emphasis on elegance, intention, and control—so different from the rugged, historical power of Hogwarts. He was struck by how Beauxbatons nurtured emotion and beauty as core elements of magical strength.
When their visit came to an end, Madame Maxime brought them back to the Delacour estate herself.
"I do hope we meet again, Monsieur De Versailles," she said warmly before departing.
That night, Louis and Fleur sat beneath a pergola wrapped in flowering vines, the air scented with lilac and spring rain.
"You liked it?" she asked quietly.
"I loved it," he said. "Thank you for showing me your world."
They sat together a long time, fingers gently entwined, minds connected in a calm, joyful silence.
When the week drew to a close, Louis stood at the Portkey circle, ready to return to Versailles. Fleur walked him there, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer than usual.
"I'll see you soon," she said softly.
"Always," he replied.
With a final shared smile and the soft crack of magic, Louis vanished.
He returned home with a quiet heart, carrying memories of sunlight, laughter, and the gentle power of magic lived, not just learned.