"(Speaking in French.)"
Chapter Ten: Exchange
"Mal Théa," Malfoy greeted with a nod and an odd look on his face. Hermione thought he looked mildly constipated, but refrained from commenting. He ignored her completely, apparently deciding to be intelligent for a change and not call her names around the powerful Frenchman who was apparently inclined to take offense at such things.
"Draco." A little shark's smile flashed white against dark skin as mal Théa's chin came up aggressively. Hermione watched his eyes dart through the crowd before focusing back on Malfoy. "You never did introduce me to your… companions." Mal Théa made that weird humming noise – it was beginning to get on Hermione's nerves – and quirked an eyebrow. She noticed that he refrained from calling Malfoy's posse his 'friends' and wondered if it was significant.
"Of course," said Malfoy. He tried to look superior, an expression quite obviously stolen from his father, but only managed to look like a bratty child. In comparison, mal Théa's more natural arrogance seemed cultured and refined. And since when was it a good thing to look naturally arrogant, Hermione wondered.
"This is Pansy Parkinson," said Malfoy while his pug-faced girlfriend bobbed a curtsy. Mal Théa gave her a brief nod.
"Crabbe and Goyle," the two hulking brutes grunted at mal Théa and seemed to puff up slightly. Hermione was put in mind of animals strutting and posturing, trying to prove dominance. Tall, broad mal Théa looked patently unimpressed and didn't even give them the benefit of an acknowledging nod.
Hermione didn't know a whole lot about the pureblood traditionalist faction beyond what she'd read in old novels, but even she could tell that Crabbe and Goyle had just fallen in everyone's eyes, for no other reason than they had been deemed dismissible by a powerful newcomer. It was fascinating, actually, in a very medieval sort of way.
"Tracey Davis," Malfoy hurried to introduce the two girls standing slightly to the side, "and Daphne Greengrass."
Mal Théa nodded dismissively to Tracey, but murmured a greeting to Daphne, accompanied by something that, with a little imagination, might be called a bow. Both girls smiled and curtsied, Tracey saying it was an honor, and Daphne expressing pleasure at renewing their acquaintance.
Blaise Zabini, the last of the Slytherins present, stepped forward without waiting for Malfoy to say anything. It seemed to Hermione that he was making a very definite statement by doing so, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out the hidden message. Politics she knew, but this weird social dance definitely existed outside her areas of expertise.
The two boys clasped forearms and spoke rapidly in – was that Latin? – before releasing each other. Zabini was smiling in that weird, removed way he had, and mal Théa looked a little bit more like a human being.
Hermione couldn't decide whether or not she should be feeling uncomfortable right now. On the one hand, her only Gryffindor companion was currently being buddy-buddy with Slytherins. On the other, he was providing a shield between her and them – after what had happened to Malfoy earlier, they were all too busy actively ignoring her to cause her any grief.
Besides, it was rather intriguing to watch purebloods in their natural habitat – or as close to it as a 'mudblood' like her was ever likely to get.
"Granger."
Hermione shrank a little to find herself suddenly the focus of two sets of extremely intense eyes. Zabini, at least, she was used to. She tried not to look startled.
"Mal Théa," she responded coolly. She tilted her chin up, subconsciously echoing mal Théa's aggressive stance.
"You are familiar with Blaise Zabini?"
"Passingly," Hermione hedged, uncertain where this was going. Was he introducing her the way Malfoy had introduced his posse? Was she being pulled into that backstabbing dance of social status?
Mal Théa's eyes seemed to be laughing at her, even though nothing else about him betrayed any sort of emotion. He made that stupid humming noise, then made a slight gesture toward the elegant black boy standing beside him. "Granger, Blaise Zabini. Blaise, Hermione Granger."
To Hermione's surprise, Zabini gave her a deep nod of acknowledgement.
"Um, hi," she said with a tight smile. There was no way she was attempting a curtsy, thank you very much. Bookworms don't curtsy. Mudbloods don't curtsy. They say 'um, hi.' A somewhat awkward conversation followed the somewhat awkward introduction, and for the first time ever, Hermione was glad when Snape arrived.
Brie took in the classroom with interest. With three to a desk, it made sense to sit with Blaise and Granger. He, of course, sat on the far edge in the most easily defensible position with his back against a wall. Granger didn't seem thrilled with the idea of sitting in the back, but seemed even less pleased with the idea of sitting alone or with Malfoy.
Finnegan and Thomas were both present, but they had a pretty Ravenclaw witch sitting with them, and seemed content to leave the bushy haired girl to Brie. She didn't complain as she sat down in the middle seat.
The professor swept through the doors after the students, robes billowing slightly around him. "Old bat," a Hufflepuff student mumbled irritably to his Ravenclaw companion. Brie did notice a certain passing resemblance, but quashed any inner amusement before it could more than register.
Severus Snape, Potions Master. This wasn't the first time he had heard the name. Uncle Shay spoke of the man once in awhile, always in conjunction with the Dark Lord. Snape was powerful in his own way, Shay had warned. The man was fluid, like water, and not to be trusted or underestimated. Mama spoke of him as well, though more favorably than her brother did. According to her, Snape was rather well known in the Potions community. Although she'd never worked with him personally, they had exchanged letters and peer tested theories for each other.
The students at this school appeared to think quite poorly of him.
Snape was brooding at the front of the classroom, greasy dark hair hanging in front of his face, giving him a – in Brie's opinion at least – melodramatically sinister appearance. It probably intimidated normal children just fine, but Brie had seen the real thing. Still, he applauded the man for trying.
As soon as everyone had taken a seat, Snape began to speak. For an introduction to a class, it was delightfully dark and cynical. Deep inside, where it didn't show, Brie grinned. He would most definitely enjoy this class.
Roll call was peppered with the Potions Master's amusing comments as he read each name.
"Miss… Granger," Snape drawled. His sneer was audible.
The bushy haired girl replied with a prompt "present," her tone suggesting that she was resigned to the inevitable comments.
"Hardly a surprise. You seem to labor under the misconception that this class could not run without your presence. Contrarily, Miss Granger, we would get along quite well without additional Gryffindors. Isn't that right, Miss Greengrass." Daphne responded promptly, and role moved on. Malfoy was named with obvious approval.
Brie was beginning to form a picture of Professor Snape that was somewhat different from what his mother and uncle saw. Inwardly he admitted to being mildly intrigued.
"Mr… mal Théa," Snape looked up and met Brie's cool gaze. He did not look surprised, per se, but there was definitely an odd expression in his eyes.
"Sir," Brie responded levelly, not breaking eye contact yet verbally acknowledging that – in this classroom, at least – the other was his superior. Snape's dark eyes flashed with amusement, easily recognizing the game and accepting the gesture for what it was worth.
"Who would have thought… Rai's boy in Gryffindor. Your poor mother."
"Not at all, sir," Brie replied dryly, despite the fact that it had been a rhetorical statement. "My uncle may require condolences, but my mother is well enough pleased."
"I would shudder to think of Rai's child in my own House." Snape's tone was slightly strained, but Brie saw amusement in the tightly pressed lips and arched brow. This man was familiar with both entities named, after all. He would understand the references both to his uncle's preference for Slytherin or Ravenclaw and to his mother's propensity toward mischief.
Soon after that, the lecture began. From what Brie could gather, they would be working on several Potions he was very familiar with. Not that he would complain – he had no doubt that Snape expected him to turn in superior work.
Every once in awhile during the lecture, seemingly at random, Snape would snap out a question. To Brie, who had grown up with a Potions Mistress and a Healer, the questions were simple enough. Most of the students, however, stumbled over the answers or failed completely. He quickly picked out a pattern.
Slytherins always answered their questions correctly. Even Crabbe and Goyle, when called on, grunted out correct answers. Whether it was because they already knew what the questions would be or because they had additional tutoring or some altogether unrelated reason, they continually earned points for their House.
There were only two Hufflepuffs in the class, and they were both treated in a tolerant, patronizing sort of way. Their questions were usually easy, and when they got them right, they were given fewer points or none at all.
The Ravenclaws were given more difficult questions, though they always answered promptly. Snape seemed to believe that they, at least, were worthy of being in his classroom.
The Gryffindors, on the other hand, seemed to try Snape's patience just by existing. He ignored Granger completely, despite the fact that she seemed ready to burst with the answers to each and every question, no matter how far beyond the scope of the class. Finnegan and Thomas were constantly bombarded with questions that even Brie was surprised by. Every time they answered wrong – and failure was inevitable – more points were removed from their House.
Brie might have found it amusing if he wasn't so fiercely competitive. Oh, he couldn't care less about school spirit or the boys in question, but McGonagall had explained the House Cup to him, and Gabriel mal Théa hated to lose.
After a particularly scathing round of questions against the Gryffindor boys that left them shaking with rage and humiliation, Brie stood up. Everyone turned to look at him, and Snape frowned dangerously. Like Granger, he had been ignored thus far – but no longer.
"Sir, may I redeem my House's honor?" The phrasing and tone were that of a respectful question, but the wording left no doubt that he intended to take it as an insult if he were denied the opportunity. Honor was everything.
Snape grimaced, but nodded. "Proceed, Mr mal Théa."
"Thank you, sir." Quickly but thoroughly, Brie answered every question asked of the two boys since the beginning of the class period, careful not to miss a single one. Thank Merlin that one of them had taken good notes. Granger didn't seem to notice his glances down at her scroll.
When he finished, he sat down calmly, serenely meeting the gaze of the Potions professor. The man looked pained. Brie had been careful to be excruciatingly polite – he wanted to win, yes, not make enemies with a potentially powerful ally. To damage this man's pride in any way would be a mistake.
Finally Snape gave a little nod, scowling in a generally disaffected sort of way. "20 points to Gryffindor, Mr mal Théa, for your remarkable recitation of Potions knowledge." It wasn't nearly as much as he had removed from the other two boys, but it was something. Brie gave a nod to acknowledge the professor's compliment and class moved on.
The bell rang soon after, and there was a frantic scramble for the students to get out of the classroom as quickly as possible. Brie didn't feel quite the same rush, instead packing his notes away at a more decorous pace. Granger waited for him, bouncing from foot to foot, though Blaise slipped away with a little nod.
"Mr mal Théa."
Brie turned to look at the Potions professor. The man beckoned him forward to the front of the classroom. Brie was immediately curious, and it took a moment for him to re-center himself for a possible confrontation.
"Miss Granger, you are dismissed," said Snape. Brie gave Granger a little smile, enjoying the startled look that flashed across her face. It was like she thought he didn't know how to smile or something.
"Sir?" he prompted after the door shut behind the other Gryffindor. He wasn't in any particular hurry, having no further classes that day, but he was extremely curious. Curiosity, he had found, was an unfortunate side effect of having Rai as a mother. Or perhaps it was genetic – he'd heard that both the Potters had been extremely curious people.
"You have an excellent grasp of this field," said Snape. "With a mother like yours, of course, I would expect no less." He pulled out a musty, leather-bound tome and handed it to Brie, who took it without looking to see what it was.
"Dismissed."
"Yes, sir." Brie turned and swept out of the room, discreetly tucking the book away as he went. He was burning with curiosity, but he knew the etiquette on such handoffs. Until he knew for certain that it was alright to be seen with the book, he would keep it well out of sight from prying eyes.
"You're back!" Ginny grinned as she looked up from where she had been studying by the fireplace. "You took longer than I expected. Neville's been back a whole half hour! He's upstairs changing right now. How was class?"
"Ugh," said Hermione eloquently as she flopped down on the sofa next to her friend.
"Ugh?" Ginny teased, raising an eyebrow in question. "Oh dear. Does this have anything to do with the rumor of our new Gryffindor friend strangling Malfoy in the hall?"
"He didn't strangle him, per se," Hermione frowned. "He just sort of… held him firmly by the neck."
Ginny laughed in delight, clapping her hands and settling back into the overstuffed cushions. "Oh do tell!"
"There's not much to say," Hermione shrugged.
"Not much to say about what?" asked Neville as he sat down on Ginny's other side. He had changed out of his uniform into casual robes. Hermione had never quite figured out how those were any more comfortable than the school uniform, but had given up pestering her friend about it years ago. To each his own, after all.
"About Malfoy getting his," prompted Ginny.
"Ah," Neville grimaced. "Hermione's right. There isn't much to say."
"Oh, come on!" Ginny cried, turning her head between her two older friends. She went through a variety of pity-me looks, trying to get one or both of them to give in and tell her the story.
"Malfoy called me mudblood," Hermione finally caved. "Mal Théa took offense and pinned him to the wall. Said something about respecting shared magical heritage or some such – it didn't make a whole lot of sense. I'll have to research it."
"Don't bother," Neville told her with a smile. "It's not something you're likely to find in the Hogwarts Library. It's Politics with a capital P."
Hermione looked interested, but Ginny waved her hand dismissively. "Politics are useless games that rich people play. I want to know why mal Théa got offended by Malfoy calling you… that name."
"You mean the fact that it's racist and discriminatory and horrible isn't enough?"
"You know what I mean, Hermione! But it's not like the mal Théas are 'blood traitors' like my family. They're as old and pure as they come! Why on earth would he care?"
Hermione shrugged. She had, after all, wondered exactly the same thing. Both girls turned to focus on Neville, who shifted uncomfortably under their questioning stares.
"You know, I can't actually read his mind," he said, gaze darting between two pairs of intense brown eyes. "You all seem to think I can, but I can't. I don't know!"
"We know you don't know anything, Neville," said Ron as he, Seamus, and Dean joined them in front of the fire. The redhead's easy, inclusive smile took the sting out of the words as Dean retorted that Ron knew less than anything, which got Seamus joining in about the correctness of the phrasing.
Hermione, Ginny, and Neville exchanged long-suffering glances, but made room to include the three boys. After all, once they had arrived there was no making them leave until they were good and ready.
The conversation quickly turned to more mundane topics. How were classes? How was McGonagall this year? Oh dear, that bad. What about Flitwick? Had mal Théa managed to stay awake through Binns's lecture? Who did Trelawney claim would die this year?
Other students drifted over to join in once in awhile before drifting away again, adding their own opinions and bits of gossip. It was nice being back at school, back within a tightly knit circle of friends. Hermione rewarded a particularly bright comment from Ron with a smile, and was treated to a spectacular blush. Yes, it was definitely nice to be back.
Brie settled himself carefully on the somewhat rickety Library chair. It didn't look particularly up to supporting his weight, but it held with minimal complaint. Thumping his bag on the equally ancient table, he settled in for some serious studying.
He had picked this corner after a bit of exploration. It wasn't as brightly lit as most of the other tables and was inconveniently located in the dead end of a rarely used section of books. Perfect for an overly paranoid soldier.
The book that Snape had given him was thick but small. The pages were turning yellow with age and curling in the corners. Opening up at random, Brie swore under his breath. How on earth had Snape come by a book in Parseltongue of all things? And why had he given it to Brie? Not that he was complaining, of course…
Flipping back to the beginning, he settled down for a nice long read. After all, in his experience anything written in the tongue of snakes was well worth examining.
Levi looked up as he was joined at his study table. Two older Ravenclaws were standing in his light. Padma Patil he knew in passing, despite the age difference. She was the only other Hindi speaker in Ravenclaw, and occasionally they would have discussions in that language. Levi was unfamiliar with her companion, though he recognized the boy as another Sixth Year Ravenclaw.
"Levi," Padma smiled at him brightly, sitting down in the chair across from him. "Naamaste, Aap kaise hain?"
"Bahut acha, shukriya." He turned his intense amber eyes toward the other newcomer. The older boy shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, looking toward Padma for rescue.
"Ah, this is Terry Boot," she introduced with a smile.
"Hello," he smiled at Levi, trying to look confident. With barely a nod, Levi dismissed him. He wasn't interested in these people. He had come to the Library to study, not socialize, after all.
"We were wondering if we could ask you something, Levi," Padma continued, pulling his attention away from his books again.
Inside the little scholar was groaning. There was no way he could get rid of them until he'd satisfied their curiosity – they were Ravenclaws, after all. His books would have to wait. Turning to Padma, he decided to make this as uncomfortable for his inquisitors as possible.
People often told him that he was creepy. He had a gift for silence and stillness, and he had a way of focusing himself completely that tended to make others uncomfortable. Consciously, he stilled himself and focused on Padma with all the intensity he could muster. She began to look gratifyingly uncomfortable.
"Um," said Padma uncharacteristically. She was usually quite eloquent. "Well we, Terry and I, we couldn't help noticing that you left dinner early last night with the new boy. And I remembered that your families are connected, so we were wondering if you could tell us about mal Théa."
Levi let a heavy silence fall, watching the two shift uncomfortably. "Haan," he finally replied before falling silent again.
"Could you elaborate on that?" Padma was frowning now, trying to work out what Levi had been saying 'yes' to.
"Haan," Levi responded dryly, arching an eyebrow at them both. The silence stretched and the two Sixth Years began to look frustrated. Taking pity on them, Levi added, "Yes, I could. But I won't. I don't gossip, Padma," he added reprovingly.
"I know, Levi, but that's why we're asking you! It's not gossip from you, it's fact." She leaned forward earnestly, and Levi got the impression that she really believed what she said. After all, fact was extremely important to a Ravenclaw.
"An exchange, then," he said finally, deciding to use the opportunity this gave him. Brie and Uncle Shay would be so proud of him! "Tell me – factually – what the other students think of my cousin, and I will respond – factually – with an equal value of knowledge about him."
"That's fair," Padma nodded at once, though Boot was looking somewhat taken aback. He'd obviously expected the little Third Year to immediately cave to the desires of the older students. Too bad for him. Never underestimate a Defayne.
"Well," she began after a moment of thought, "there's definitely an undercurrent of fear. You might not have heard, but he attacked Draco Malfoy this morning." Levi's raised eyebrows expressed a mix of amused disbelief and curiosity. "Something about Malfoy calling Granger a Mudblood."
Immediately Levi's eyebrows fell and he nodded in understanding. Boot perked up at this and looked anxious to pursue it with questions, but Padma continued.
"Most of us are dead curious," she said with a little smile. "Your cousin acted out a school-wide fantasy by attacking Malfoy like that. We want to know why he did it. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense." Levi interpreted 'we' as 'the other Ravenclaws.'
"There're some really odd rumors going around right now. There's talk of mal Théa being everything from a Death Eater, to a spy for someone, to an undercover French Auror. Everyone's got some wild theory that they back with 'factual' evidence that they heard from so and so, who heard from so and so, etcetera."
"Of course," Levi murmured. "Go on."
"He also stood up to Snape today, and no one's seen him since. It was actually really cool – I was there – and he said something about redeeming the honor of his house. Snape let him, and then gave Gryffindor points, which has also got everyone talking."
"There's two factions," Boot chimed in for the first time. "Half the school thinks mal Théa is buddy buddy with Snape and that they're plotting against us all. The other half thinks they're deadly enemies, and that they have it in for each other."
"What do you think?" Levi asked, curious despite himself.
"Well, I lack sufficient information," Boot hedged, looking away.
"Speculate," Levi instructed mildly. This was fun! Boot continued to look away, unwilling to meet his eyes.
"I think the student body is too extreme," Padma stepped in to save her friend. "But that's gossip for you. Anyways, it's your turn. Why did mal Théa defend Granger like that?"
"Gabriel dislikes discriminatory labels," said Levi. "And his brother-in-law is Muggleborn."
Padma and Boot exchanged surprised looks; evidently whatever research they did on his family tree, they hadn't turned up that bit of information.
"Why did he come here?" Boot asked next.
"To experience English culture and make alliances," Levi replied smoothly. Of course, that wasn't the reason at all, but he couldn't exactly explain to these people that his cousin was actually Harry Potter and was coming to Hogwarts as a tribute to his dead biological parents.
"Right," Boot agreed skeptically. Levi kept his expression blank. "Is he Dark?"
"Are you?" Levi shot back. Boot spluttered, obviously offended, and Levi raised an eyebrow at him.
"That is Gabriel's business, and Gabriel's business alone. Though I suggest you look at the mal Théa records more closely before making further accusations." There, he had told them exactly where they could find the answer if they were smart enough. They were Ravenclaws, so he doubted they would have any trouble following up on his hint.
The mal Théas had an odd history when it came to their Persuasion. As a whole, the family was Neutral. They were loyal to their family above all else. A mal Théa was nearly incapable of betraying another mal Théa – that was just how it was. Even Levi, who was technically twice removed from the family, fell under this blanket of familial loyalty and protection.
Not all mal Théas were Neutral, though. There was a curse of sorts on the family which no one had been able to break during the dozens of generations that had passed. Every generation, one – and only one – mal Théa would not be Neutral. Their Persuasion was also 'predetermined' after a fashion. If one generation produced a Dark Wizard, the next would produce a Light, and the next a Dark. Over and over, the pattern cycled.
Great Great Aunt Hélène had been a Dark Witch who allied herself with Grindewald. Her name was still synonymous with evil in France. 'She's a Hélène!' continued to be a wonderful way to deeply offend a Light Witch.
Great Uncle Mauri was a Light Wizard. As Light as they came – he was the Head of the French Aurors, and had made a career out of actively opposing Dark Wizards.
Uncle Shay was a Dark Wizard. Everybody knew that he was allied with the Dark Lord, though no one knew whether or not he had taken Voldemort's Mark. He had often commanded his troops in the Dark Lord's favor during the first war and the Parisian Butcher had a reputation to match Aunt Hélène's.
All this was commonly known. A little creative research would unearth the pattern for the examination of the overly curious Ravenclaws. It would show them that, at the most, Brie was Neutral. There was even a possibility that he was a Light wizard, though Levi thought that was unlikely.
In fact, Levi was almost positive that Fae was going to be the Light witch for their generation. He would've felt sorry for Uncle Shay if it hadn't been so ironic. It would serve his Lord Uncle right! It was rather amazing, really, that such a complete bastard could produce a girl like Fae. If she had a bad bone in her body, Levi would eat his Potions book.
The Ravenclaws finished a brief whispered conference, then Padma took a deep breath to ask another question.
"How does Snape know mal Théa's mom?"
"Auntie Rai is a Potions Mistress," Levi responded promptly, a little smile tugging at his lips. Rai was his favorite adult relative by far, and he had fond childhood memories of observing her in the lab. She was amazingly tolerant of little children under foot, and had only used him as a guinea pig when he was old enough to say yes or no.
"Why did he not want her son in his House?"
Levi blinked. Why wouldn't Snape want Brie in his House? "What do you mean?"
"Snape said, 'I shudder to think of Rai's child in my House.' Why would he say that?" Padma was gifted with near perfect recall, so Levi trusted her phrasing. He let out a breath of laughter – so Snape did have a sense of humor! How charming.
"Auntie Rai is flamboyant, psychotic, and patently incapable of staying out of trouble."
His two unwanted guests exchanged surprised glances. This account of the woman who gave birth to cold, intense, violent Gabriel apparently caught them off guard. Oh well, Rai always said shock is good for the soul.
"I need to get back to work," he added pointedly. "It will take me some time to regain my train of thought." He frowned at them until they stood up. With a quick 'thank you' and 'sorry for bothering you,' they retreated to a different part of the Library. Probably to research his family history.
"(Charming,)" came a voice from behind his shoulder, "(aren't they. I've been putting up with their sort all day.)"
Levi turned to give his cousin an exasperated look. "(I really do need to work, Brie.)"
"(Ah, you can spare some time for me, right baby coz?)" Somewhere along the lines Brie had picked up the ability to say one thing with words and an entirely different thing with his body. So while his voice teased, his body remained alert and poised for some imagined danger.
"(What do you want, Brie? Make it fast, please.)"
"(No respect at all these days. Saraswati smiles on you Levi – a quick hello will not get in the way of,)" he paused to skim the titles on the table, "(Traditional Blood Rituals of Durga? Ritualistic Ceremonies of India? Levi, what in the name of all that is holy are you researching?)"
Levi shrugged. "(Does it matter? I know what I'm doing. Now what do you want?)"
Brie frowned down at him for a moment longer, then shook his head dismissively. "(Snape gave me a book written in Parseltongue. I find myself wondering how it came into his possession and why he gave it to me.)"
Levi's attention was officially caught. "(Well, it's not exactly a secret that you speak that language, Brie. Uncle Shay has had you translate things for him before - everyone knows that someone in our family speaks it.)"
"(Yes, but only we know that I'm the speaker. So how did he know?)"
"(Maybe he doesn't,)" Levi pointed out practically. "(Maybe he means for you to pass it along to someone else.)"
"(Perhaps,)" he sighed. Brie could be a clever bastard, but he was a sixteen year old soldier. Eventually he would be a master of politics, but for the moment certain things still stumped him. Levi found his cousin's confusion extremely entertaining.
"(I'll look into it, coz,)" he said with an easy smile. "(Maybe you ought to write to Uncle Shay?)"
Brie's face cleared and he gave Levi a relieved smile. "(I'll do that. Thanks, Levi. Good luck on your research.)" He bent to drop a kiss on Levi's cheek, then left as silently as he had come.
A/N: Hindi translations:
Naamaste : hello
Aap kaise hain? : how are you?
Bahut acha, shukriya : very well, thank you
Haan : yes