Notes - Lots of probably-not-very-good French in this chapter! If you have any language corrections, please leave them in a review. I'll fix the mistake and credit you for your awesome help.
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The tea had gone cold. Harry sipped at it out of politeness and because there wasn't much else he could do. He had thought Adeline might speak to him now, even in French, but she did not. She just stared at him with accusation in her eyes. Gaspard was also silent. He had neither the cheerfulness nor the enthusiasm he'd had in their past meetings. He also looked like he hadn't slept in days. Harry wondered briefly if Gaspard was a werewolf.
"So, Adeline, you're not actually French."
A pause.
"She is French."
"But French is your second language?"
A long pause.
"She is French. Her family is English."
"So why do you live in France?"
No answer.
Harry set his cup down on the table and leaned forward in his seat. He wanted Adeline to speak so that they could properly understand each other, without relying on Gaspard for translation. He felt like he wasn't getting through to her when he needed to. "I can't understand if you don't explain it to me."
Gaspard made a choking sound, and Harry saw him clench his shaking hands into fists. The man stared at something on the other side of the room as if trying to calm himself. Something flickered in Adeline's eyes, but the emotion was gone before Harry could identify it.
"I want to talk," Harry tried again, "but I need you to talk back to me. If we can't do that there's no point in me being here."
Absolute silence.
He sighed and stood up, pushed the teacup further onto the table, smiled at Adeline to show her that he still wanted to be friendly, and walked out of the office. Just as Harry was thinking what to do next, there was the sound of someone running after him. When he turned he saw that it was Gaspard. Even more than he looked tired, he looked angry.
"You–!" he cried and threw a fist out at him.
It made contact with Harry's jaw. Startled, he took a few stumbling steps backward. He had bitten his tongue and knew that it was bleeding. He stared at Gaspard with surprise and confusion.
Gaspard struck again, quickly but Harry saw it coming and was able to half-dodge the attack. His shoulder was hit instead of his face. Another attempt, getting him in the chest and almost winding him. Harry cried out in pain – partly because it hurt and partly because it was what Gaspard seemed to want. Clutching at his chest, he blocked the next punch and Gaspard stepped back, breathing thickly.
"'Je ne peux pas comprendre si vous ne pouvez pas me l'expliquer.' Non, non! Ridicule. Vous nous blâmer, pourquoi? Adeline est innocente!" He said in French, speaking so quickly Harry didn't think he would have understood him even if he had ended up learning it.
"Gaspard-"
"Say it properly! It is Gaspard! Gaspard et Adeline du Maurier, it goes up, it is like this!" When he was angry his accent became so strong that Harry could almost not understand him. His brow furrowed and he looked down at the ground, like it would tell him what to do next.
"Why did you hit me?" Harry asked simply.
"For what you have said! And what you have done!"
"What did I say?"
Gaspard was visibly surprised to be asked that question. "You asked her to explain. She has made it very clear to you. If you looked at her you would know."
"But I have been looking at her..." he trailed off when Gaspard shook his head. "Alright. What did I do?"
"You – you – you have made her love you! And now she...now she...will..."
A look of such overwhelming sadness came over his face that Harry was forcibly reminded of the war, and the people who had survived it. They had been surrounded by so much loss that many couldn't even speak about it. They knew the truth – that people they loved had died, as well as others, and they had not – and weren't able to lie to themselves about it. All they could do was grieve for what they had lost. Gaspard looked like them. That was a terrible thing.
He spoke softly. "Why does Adeline live in France?"
"She...she has lived there since she was une enfant. Her family is nobility. They spent much time in France before they took her there to live. A pure Veela line, it was not safe for them in England. Also there was the war."
"You're related?"
"Pas vraiment. A little. Many times by marriage."
"So you are not a Veela?"
"I am part-Veela. It does not show. I can do little things. I do not find them very beautiful, vous comprenez? It is good." Gaspard smiled.
"You speak a lot of French..." Harry wasn't sure how to phrase this question.
"Ah, oui. I am French. I grew up in La Roche-Guyon, a small place near Paris. My family lost their standing and are now common. When I was ten years old we met with Adeline's family. Their servants did not treat her well, pas bon. They thought that as she was quiet she was stupid. She is not stupid. I listened to her and became her friend. When she was older I became her tutor. When she was at school I would go to La Roche-Guyon and work for my family. When she returned I was her...ah...compagnon...confident..." Gaspard couldn't find the right word.
"You looked after her."
"Yes. I brought her here."
There was that expression again. It hurt Harry to see it.
"Adeline might not die. There is still a chance-"
Gaspard stepped forward, his eyes wild. "No! There is not! To me, Adeline is – everything! I would choose her over anyone! My own mère, I would not think! It would be Adeline! She is – my first choice, always! You love this...Draco, you will choose him! There is no chance! I know it!" Tears formed in his eyes and he touched his face. "She will die. I will take care of her, even in death. Then I will die myself without her."
It didn't surprise Harry to hear that the man loved Adeline. It had become clear in the way that he acted around her – 'listening' to her when she did not speak, touching her on the shoulder or arm from time to time, his recent tiredness, his attack on Harry, which had come when Adeline was not with them, the way he described his life around her. But he hadn't expected the intensity of his feelings. He hadn't thought once about the possibility that Gaspard couldn't live without her. He was in his early twenties, old enough to have a life of his own, family, friends and a partner. It hadn't even occurred to Harry, who suddenly felt so much worse about this whole situation.
"Does it have to be me?" Harry asked him quietly.
Gaspard fell to his knees, overcome with sorrow, and spoke just as quietly. "She will only allow it to be you."
There was nothing to be done.
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Once you got used to the idea of dying, it wasn't such a terrible thing. Knowledge did not change things. The flowers on the school grounds were still beautiful. The sunlight felt just as warm as it had before. She looked the same, felt the same, sounded the same. It was better, Adeline thought, to be happy. Gaspard would never forget her if she was sad.
It made the time pass more quickly if she enjoyed herself. So she went into the kitchens and ate the cakes the elves made for her. The headmistress taught her some spells and she practiced them. Wherever she went, she changed the colours of everything, making them pretty reds and oranges and pinks and creams. The school banners were dreadful so she changed those. Whenever she passed them they were back to normal so she just changed them again. One day these people would learn that it needed to be done.
She no longer sought out Harry, but found him now and then. Like Gaspard he looked tired and did not speak much. But he held hands with the boy and smiled at him and was happy. It was good for her to see.
Everything was sorted – her death, her mate, her homesickness. Everything except for Gaspard. He did not look well. His eyes were dark underneath. He never smiled. He spoke only when he needed to, or to say his goodnight to her. They had never needed words between them but he had always spoken to her because she liked to hear his voice. It had been like music to her, that never ended or became boring. Even better when he laughed. Now he did none of those things.
He was sad already that she would die. But she was not dead. When she stood in front of him it was like he could not see her. She could not understand it. It hurt Gaspard enough that he couldn't even pretend to be happy? He had always done whatever she wanted. But now it was hard for him to do easy things. He spilled tea and burned his hand. Then when she bandaged it he looked at his hand like it would die as well. He fell on the stairs. He hadn't used magic in the last week and she wasn't sure why. He didn't notice things. It was very worrying.
When she asked Gaspard if he would watch the Quidditch with her, he did not answer. Harry and the boy were captains and they were playing against each other soon. She excused Gaspard the first time, but when she asked him again and he did not answer, she became angry. A third time and she could not stay silent.
"GASPARD!"
He went very still. That was good.
"How dare you be sadder than I am about what is going to happen! How dare you try to care more about me than I do about myself! How dare you not sleep! How dare you be careless! How dare you burn yourself and fall! How dare you forget that you are a wizard and that magic is befitting of you! How dare you not answer me when I ask you a question! How dare you forget who you are, and who I am!" Adeline said those last three words individually and was pleased with the way it sounded.
"Mercredi," Gaspard breathed. "Je m'excuse mille fois! Je ne savais pas...tu as raison, bien sûr. Je voulais seulement-"
"Yes, yes, Gaspard, that is enough."
"Adeline..."
He always said her name like it was very important. She smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek. "You will take me to the Quidditch. You mustn't forget, or I won't forgive you."
"Oui. Tu veux un peu de thé?"
She kissed him on the other cheek and was delighted to see him blush. He really was very handsome.
"Yes, I would like that."
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French - English
"'Je ne peux pas comprendre si vous ne pouvez pas me l'expliquer.' Non, non! Ridicule. Vous nous blâmer, pourquoi? Adeline est innocente!"
"'I can't understand if you can't explain it to me.' No, no! Ridiculous. You blame us, why? Adeline is innocent!"
Gaspard repeats what Harry said earlier. The statement angered him because he thought that Harry was the one at fault and shouldn't blame Adeline, who is the victim and has done nothing wrong.
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"Say it properly! It is Gaspard! Gaspard et Adeline du Maurier, it goes up, it is like this!"
Et means 'and'. The more emotional he becomes the more his languages mix together.
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"She...she has lived there since she was une enfant."
"She...she has lived there since she was a child."
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"Pas vraiment. A little. Many times by marriage."
"Not really. A little. Many times by marriage."
Gaspard doesn't consider himself blood-related to Adeline, or at least not enough for it to affect them.
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"I do not find them very beautiful, vous comprenez?"
"I do not find them very beautiful, you understand?"
He uses vous, back to speaking politely to Harry. This might be out of habit.
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"Their servants did not treat her well, pas bon."
"Their servants did not treat her well, not good."
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"When she returned I was her...ah...compagnon...confident..."
It's interesting that Gaspard can't find a word even in French for the relationship between him and Adeline. He describes aspects of it – compagnon, he accompanied her, confident, she confided in him. But it's clear that he does much more than that.
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"Mercredi," Gaspard breathed. "Je m'excuse mille fois! Je ne savais pas...tu as raison, bien sûr. Je voulais seulement-"
"Wednesday," Gaspard breathed. "I apologize a thousand times! I did not know...you are right, of course. I only wanted-"
In French merde is a swearword. To cover yourself when you begin to swear inappropriately, people change it to mercredi, which means Wednesday. Gaspard is older than Adeline and doesn't want to swear in front of her – I liked the idea that he just says 'Wednesday' and doesn't even bother with merde. He speaks informally to Adeline. They've known each other for a long time.
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"Oui. Tu veux un peu de thé?"
"Yes. Want some tea?"
It's also notable that Gaspard and Adeline are speaking different languages. They're fluent in both, but speak the one that comes most easily to them. They communicate well with each other.
Again, thanks to Keikey for the French corrections - you're an amazing help and I'm grateful for the time you not only put into reading this story, but editing it.