Written for Gaby-Black's French Challenge at the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum. There are lots of challenges there; check the place out if you want one.

The quote "Friend is sometimes a word that lacks meaning; enemy, never." belongs to the author Victor Hugo, and, no, Harry Potter is not mine.

Once again, FFnet failed to save this with its own spacers. Thus, I had to use 'xx' instead. I'm sorry if that bugs you.

Spare Me the French

"What did you say?" Dominique said from her position on her bed, smoothing back her head of fiery red hair. It didn't actually need to be smoothed, only going an inch or so past her ears, but her hair always tended to have stray bits sticking up, anyway - stray bits usually caused by Dominique herself, that is.

James rolled his eyes, leaning against the entrance to Dominique's bedroom. "I said, 'Friend is sometimes a word that lacks meaning; enemy, never.'" He smirked and waggled his eyebrows, displaying with pride his lack of subtlety.

Dominique parroted his previous expression, rolling her eyes as well. "Congratulations," she said, "you know your Victor Hugo."

"How'd you know?" James strode into the room and pouted a bit, though a glimmer in his blue eyes suggested he wasn't actually surprised much at all.

"Victor Hugo was French, and you know how maman"–Dominique snorted here, tinging the word with a scorn and annoyance at the word she had always been forced to call her mum, even though she could never naturally call her "mum," anyway–"wants her children to know about famous French people, not to mention he was a Squib."

"Really?"

Dominique sat up. "You're a sod, you know that?"

James nodded. "Considering you never let a week go by without mentioning that, yes." He paused, adding, "Note the blasé tone in that statement."

He was met with a stare. "What the fuck are you trying to do, become a Frenchman by adding commonly used French words into your vocabulary?"

Putting on a hurt look, James replied, "Well, I wouldn't have put it in such a crude way–"

"Because you have such a clean mouth, too."

Sniffing, James ran a hand through his dark brown hair, ignored the statement, and continued. "–but after Victoire called me a walking faux pas, and said that I'd probably be murdered in France – like she knows anything about it, just because your 'maman' is French – I figured I might as well add some French into my vocabulary, because that passes for suave and not faux pas or whatever here."

Dominique gaped, groaned, then said, "You. Are. Such. A. Fucking. Sod."

"Yeah, I thought you'd say that, but I've already learned a lot already! People at Hogwarts'll be impressed, you know."

"I already taught our whole year how to swear in French. I don't think they'll be too impressed you, say, learned the meaning of soirée, or c'est la vie–"

"I know what c'est la vie means! 'That's life.' Al always groans and says it when I call him Al."

Dominique gave him a look that could only be described a mix between a glare and resignation.

Taking this as a sign to not wait for her to say anything, James added, "Besides, even if no one's too impressed with the French, it won't matter, because of that certain je-ne-sais-quoi I have. Even you must have noticed at some point or another, right, Dom?"

"The only reason I still manage to be near you is because of your utter stupidity that I can't help trying to get rid of, not your nonexistent je-ne-sais-quoi."

James sighed, shaking his head. "Denial."

"Oh, I wish."

"Now," said James, "if you excuse me, I'm off to practice my French more with Uncle Bill."

"All my dad got out of the French Maman attempted to teach him was those commonly used in English phrases that you've started spouting."

James gasped mockingly, putting a hand to his mouth. "I'm sure your dad will be shocked to hear how rudely you expressed what you think of his French ability."

Dominique stretched. "Spare me the theatrics, Jamie-boy. And the French as well." She paused, brow furrowing. "I have to admit, though, you did prove one point."

James half-smiled. "Really? Pray tell, Dom."

"Well, not yours completely. Victor Hugo's. 'Friend is sometimes a word that lacks meaning; enemy, never.' I've changed my cat into a pineapple and a mouse before; remember that. I could do the same to you."

"Point taken. You are definitely a femme fatale, dear cousin. But just remember: I am not a cat." With what he probably thought was a dangerous smile, James whipped around and left the threshold of Dominique's room.

"He really is a fucking sod," Dominique muttered. "I'm just glad he doesn't know that, besides anything having to do with swears, I'm absolute pants at French."

xx

So ends my first oneshot about a next gen character that isn't Hugo. I should really stick to Hugo.