Drink It Down
The wine, cool and sweet, tingled at the tip of his tongue. He felt the river of sweet liqueur slither down soft tissues in his throat, warming the lining in his stomach. He drank it slowly, savoring cold tang.
Then he noticed that Fleur was watching him. She had stopped slicing the vegetables. "You looked like your father, just zen," she said. "'E used to drink wine. 'E loved good wine."
Teddy blinked, lowering the glass slowly. He hadn't expected that. "Did he drink a lot?"
It only occurred to him how that question must have sounded after the words slipped over his lips.
Fleur laughed. "Only at dinner, zat I ever saw," she said. "But 'e did 'ave a drink with us ze day you were born. 'E was so 'appy!"
Relieved, Teddy smiled and took another sip.
"At least I am a little bit like him," he said.
He didn't mean for Fleur to hear.
"You are more like 'im zan most think," she said, continuing to dice the vegetables into perfect little squares. "Your mother was the silliest girl I ever met—"
"Hey!"
"But she loved you father so much." She smiled. "'E was polar opposite."
Warm arms wrapped around his neck. "Red and blue makes purple," said Victoire in his ear. She kissed him on the cheek. "Purple is my favorite color."