Winter had fully embraced England by the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross Station. Snow dusted the landscape, the air was crisp, and students eagerly rushed toward their waiting families.
Ezekiel stepped off the train, his blue eyes scanning the platform before landing on the familiar figures of his family.
Lord Thomas Malverne stood with his usual composed demeanor, silver hair slicked back, his piercing green eyes unreadable. Beside him, Lady Marissa Malverne greeted Alyssa, her soft blonde curls tucked under a fur-lined cloak. Alys was beaming as she chattered animatedly, but his youngest sister, Celes, was the first to spot him.
"Big brother!"
With a squeal of delight, the three-year-old tore away from their mother's side, running straight into his waiting arms. Ezekiel lifted her effortlessly, her giggles warming his heart.
"I missed you, Celes," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She clung to him, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around his neck. "You're never allowed to leave for so long again!"
Ezekiel chuckled. "I'll try my best, princess."
Alys walked up, rolling her eyes. "She's been unbearable since you left. You've spoiled her too much."
"Have I?" Ezekiel grinned. "I don't recall spoiling her enough."
Their mother sighed in fond exasperation. "Let's get home before the snow worsens."
As they walked toward the awaiting Malverne carriage, Ezekiel felt the weight of the conversation awaiting him with his father.
---
That evening, after a grand family dinner, Ezekiel found himself standing in his father's study. The warm glow of the fireplace flickered across the room, casting long shadows over the polished oak desk.
Lord Thomas Malverne sat behind it, his expression serious.
"Sit," his father instructed.
Ezekiel obeyed, hands clasped together as he met his father's gaze.
"You've met Fleur Delacour."
It wasn't a question.
Ezekiel nodded. "Yes. She was part of the student exchange program at Hogwarts."
Lord Malverne leaned back slightly. "And have you noticed anything… unusual between you two?"
There it was.
Ezekiel exhaled slowly. "Yes. There's something—some kind of pull between us. It's not normal."
His father was silent for a moment before speaking. "That's because she is part Veela, and you—whether by fate or design—are compatible with her magic."
Ezekiel frowned. "What does that mean?"
Lord Malverne folded his hands together. "Veela bonds are rare, Ezekiel. And when they do form, they are not something that can be easily dismissed. The fact that you are feeling this connection with her means something deep within your magic has responded to hers."
Ezekiel processed that carefully. "So, this isn't just a fleeting attraction?"
"No. If left alone, it will only grow stronger over time."
Ezekiel leaned forward. "And what does that mean for me? For her?"
His father studied him before sighing. "That is something only the two of you can decide. But I will not have you treating this lightly."
Ezekiel met his father's gaze with equal intensity. "I don't plan to."
Lord Malverne nodded approvingly. "Good. Then I suggest you take your visit to France seriously."
---
A week later, Ezekiel found himself stepping into the magical district of Paris.
The cobbled streets of the Rue des Sorciers bustled with life despite the winter cold. Lanterns cast a golden glow over snow-dusted buildings, and the scent of freshly baked pastries filled the air.
Fleur had sent him an address, and as he walked toward the designated café, he spotted her immediately.
She sat near the window, her silver-blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, a cup of steaming coffee cradled in her hands.
Ezekiel took a breath and walked inside.
Her blue eyes lifted as he approached, a smirk playing at her lips. "You actually came."
"I said I would," he replied smoothly, taking the seat across from her.
Fleur studied him for a moment before setting her cup down. "Tell me, Ezekiel… how much do you know about Veela bonds?"
He met her gaze steadily. "Not enough. But I intend to learn."
Fleur's smirk softened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her expression.
"Then let's begin."
---