Paris and Oliver were wasting the remainder of Thursday evening under a
large tree near the lake. The day had been unusually warm for October and
the last of the sun was struggling through the trees, barely managing to
warm their cheeks.
"Do you have dreams, Oliver?" Paris asked who was laying on her back, pulling petals off a daisy and letting them flutter everywhere.
"Well yeah. Mostly about Quidditch, some about you, well alot about you, oh and I had this dream once that I was being chased by a giant slug called Cyril - ," Oliver began but Paris cut him off before he could launch into describing his slug nightmare.
"No, I mean aspirations. What do you want to do with your life?" Paris clarified, looking at Oliver who was laying on his stomach with his hands propping up his chin.
"I don't know. Play professional Quidditch, I suppose," Oliver replied honestly. Paris rolled her eyes.
"What about you then?" Oliver asked.
"If there's one thing I have to do before I die, it'll be seeing the Mona Lisa," Paris said wistfully.
"The moaning what?" Oliver said, horribly confused.
"The Mona Lisa. It's a painting in the Louvre Grand Gallery in Paris, which is in France," Paris added.
"I know where Paris is, Paris," Oliver said but Paris was now rifling in the pocket of her jeans.
"Look, here she is," Paris announced, unfolding a very old piece of paper. It had been pulled out from a magazine by the looks of it.
"Christ, she's ugly!" Oliver cried, looking at the picture of a smug looking woman.
"She isn't ugly! She's beautiful and one of the most famous ladies in history!" Paris snapped, snatching the paper back self-consciously. She tucked it safely back in her pocket.
"The picture is in Paris eh? Is that what you were named after?" Oliver said, now wishing he hadn't brought it up.
"No, thankfully I wasn't named after where I was conceived. I'm named after Paris, Prince of Troy. He was a mythical Greek man who couldn't keep his hands off other men's wives. Nice chap," Paris said, with a smile.
"You're named after a man?" Oliver blurted out and regretting it even more.
"I suppose I parents wanted a boy. Guess I managed to disappoint them even before I was born," Paris shrugged, smiling sadly.
Oliver didn't really know what to say to that.
"It's ok Oliver. I know Professor McGonagall told you, I would've done myself but she beat me to it," Paris said, sitting up. Oliver did the same, feeling incredibly sheepish.
"I'm sorry about your parents," Oliver mumbled.
"Oh don't Oliver. Don't start the sympathy parade on me, I don't need it. I'm fine without them and have been for the past seven years," Paris said seriously. She had obviously dealt with it better than Oliver imagined.
"I don't see why they did it, though," Oliver said, looking at the grass.
"They did it because they didn't know any better. I always knew who I was and I accepted it. It was finally their excuse to dump me and move on. They didn't like who I was and that's fine," Paris explained softly, like it was Oliver her parents had left.
"So that's why you can't produce a Patronus!" Oliver said happily. Clearly the thought had been bugging him for some while.
"Yeah, it's kinda hard to ask your father for protection when he doesn't even love you," Paris said. "I can produce a shield, which is like a Patronus but it's based on my own strength rather than my fathers love. It's hard but it does the trick."
Oliver was quiet for a little while, thinking.
"So, who's the Mona Lisa painted by?" Oliver asked, changing the subject but not really interested in a Muggle who painted pictures of weird women.
"Da Vinci," Paris replied, laying back down.
"Leonardo Da Vinci?" Oliver said, almost choking on his own spit.
"The very man. You know of him?" Paris asked, closing her eyes.
"He's not a painter! He was a wizard!" Oliver exclaimed.
Paris sat up, with an expression that did not believe Oliver one little bit.
"He isn't! He was an artist and an inventor. And a Muggle!" Paris argued.
"He was a wizard, known for playing tricks on Muggles. It's why the Mona Lisa is so famous! She's so ugly but Muggles love her! Da Vinci put a spell on his paintings so they'd sell!" Oliver cried, laughing at the fact Paris loved a prankster's art.
"I don't believe you," Paris said stubbornly.
"I'll get you a book on him the next time I'm in Hogsmeade then and you'll see!" Oliver said seriously. Paris knew Oliver was right, he was a pure blood, of course he'd know wizard history.
"I still like Mona Lisa though," Paris decided out loud.
"If she means that much, I'll take you to see her one day," Oliver offered.
"Really? You promise?" Paris said, happy Oliver could see a future for them both.
"Promise," Oliver said with a smile.
"Do you have dreams, Oliver?" Paris asked who was laying on her back, pulling petals off a daisy and letting them flutter everywhere.
"Well yeah. Mostly about Quidditch, some about you, well alot about you, oh and I had this dream once that I was being chased by a giant slug called Cyril - ," Oliver began but Paris cut him off before he could launch into describing his slug nightmare.
"No, I mean aspirations. What do you want to do with your life?" Paris clarified, looking at Oliver who was laying on his stomach with his hands propping up his chin.
"I don't know. Play professional Quidditch, I suppose," Oliver replied honestly. Paris rolled her eyes.
"What about you then?" Oliver asked.
"If there's one thing I have to do before I die, it'll be seeing the Mona Lisa," Paris said wistfully.
"The moaning what?" Oliver said, horribly confused.
"The Mona Lisa. It's a painting in the Louvre Grand Gallery in Paris, which is in France," Paris added.
"I know where Paris is, Paris," Oliver said but Paris was now rifling in the pocket of her jeans.
"Look, here she is," Paris announced, unfolding a very old piece of paper. It had been pulled out from a magazine by the looks of it.
"Christ, she's ugly!" Oliver cried, looking at the picture of a smug looking woman.
"She isn't ugly! She's beautiful and one of the most famous ladies in history!" Paris snapped, snatching the paper back self-consciously. She tucked it safely back in her pocket.
"The picture is in Paris eh? Is that what you were named after?" Oliver said, now wishing he hadn't brought it up.
"No, thankfully I wasn't named after where I was conceived. I'm named after Paris, Prince of Troy. He was a mythical Greek man who couldn't keep his hands off other men's wives. Nice chap," Paris said, with a smile.
"You're named after a man?" Oliver blurted out and regretting it even more.
"I suppose I parents wanted a boy. Guess I managed to disappoint them even before I was born," Paris shrugged, smiling sadly.
Oliver didn't really know what to say to that.
"It's ok Oliver. I know Professor McGonagall told you, I would've done myself but she beat me to it," Paris said, sitting up. Oliver did the same, feeling incredibly sheepish.
"I'm sorry about your parents," Oliver mumbled.
"Oh don't Oliver. Don't start the sympathy parade on me, I don't need it. I'm fine without them and have been for the past seven years," Paris said seriously. She had obviously dealt with it better than Oliver imagined.
"I don't see why they did it, though," Oliver said, looking at the grass.
"They did it because they didn't know any better. I always knew who I was and I accepted it. It was finally their excuse to dump me and move on. They didn't like who I was and that's fine," Paris explained softly, like it was Oliver her parents had left.
"So that's why you can't produce a Patronus!" Oliver said happily. Clearly the thought had been bugging him for some while.
"Yeah, it's kinda hard to ask your father for protection when he doesn't even love you," Paris said. "I can produce a shield, which is like a Patronus but it's based on my own strength rather than my fathers love. It's hard but it does the trick."
Oliver was quiet for a little while, thinking.
"So, who's the Mona Lisa painted by?" Oliver asked, changing the subject but not really interested in a Muggle who painted pictures of weird women.
"Da Vinci," Paris replied, laying back down.
"Leonardo Da Vinci?" Oliver said, almost choking on his own spit.
"The very man. You know of him?" Paris asked, closing her eyes.
"He's not a painter! He was a wizard!" Oliver exclaimed.
Paris sat up, with an expression that did not believe Oliver one little bit.
"He isn't! He was an artist and an inventor. And a Muggle!" Paris argued.
"He was a wizard, known for playing tricks on Muggles. It's why the Mona Lisa is so famous! She's so ugly but Muggles love her! Da Vinci put a spell on his paintings so they'd sell!" Oliver cried, laughing at the fact Paris loved a prankster's art.
"I don't believe you," Paris said stubbornly.
"I'll get you a book on him the next time I'm in Hogsmeade then and you'll see!" Oliver said seriously. Paris knew Oliver was right, he was a pure blood, of course he'd know wizard history.
"I still like Mona Lisa though," Paris decided out loud.
"If she means that much, I'll take you to see her one day," Oliver offered.
"Really? You promise?" Paris said, happy Oliver could see a future for them both.
"Promise," Oliver said with a smile.