(Gilderoy Lockhart)
L'enchantement never disappointed.
The private booth overlooked the Seine through a tall, enchanted window, the water outside catching the glow of floating witchlights like spilled gold. Soft instrumental music hummed through the air magically, the sort that settled into your bones rather than demanding attention. The scent of fresh bread, herbs, and something sweet and citrusy lingered beneath it all, refined and warm.
I adjusted the cuff of my sleeve for the third time and resisted the urge to smooth my hair again.
Black suit, tailored to perfection, with subtle purple accents along the lining and cuffs. Elegant, understated, charming. I'd gone back and forth on the colour for far longer than I cared to admit. Purple won in the end. It suited her.
I glanced at my enchanted watch, the runes along its rim shifting softly.
Eight fifty-five.
Paris was an hour ahead of Britain, which meant everything was unfolding exactly as planned. Still, my foot tapped against the polished floor as I turned slightly toward the door, then away again.
"Sebastian," I said, lowering my voice.
The waiter appeared instantly, as if summoned by thought alone. Tall, impeccably dressed, and composed to the point of artistry, he inclined his head.
"Monsieur Lockhart?"
"Everything is ready?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"Exactly as you requested," Sebastian replied smoothly. "The booth is warded for privacy. The wine is breathing. The kitchen stands ready the moment Mademoiselle Tonks arrives."
I nodded, exhaling slowly. "Excellent. Thank you."
Sebastian stepped back to his post beside the door, hands folded, posture straight, the very image of professional patience. Meanwhile, I resumed pacing, unable to help myself.
I stopped at the window, watching the river flow, then checked my watch again.
Eight fifty-nine.
I told myself I was merely eager.
The clock struck nine.
Magic stirred.
There was a sharp, familiar pull in the air, like reality being tugged by invisible fingers, followed by a soft crack. I turned just in time for a figure to appear out of nowhere directly in front of me.
Momentum did the rest.
She collided with me, and instinct took over. I caught her easily, arms wrapping around warm fabric and solid form, the faint scent of something floral and uniquely Tonks filling my senses.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
Her hair was a vibrant, unmistakable pink now, brushing my jaw. The deep purple of her dress shimmered in the low light, fitting her perfectly. Her hands were fisted in my jacket, more from surprise than intention, I suspected.
We stared at each other, wide-eyed.
"…Ah," I said finally, breaking the silence, my voice betraying far more amusement than surprise. "That makes the third time I've caught you. This is going to become a thing, isn't it?"
Her lips parted, then curved into something suspiciously close to a grin. "Are you sure," she asked, eyes narrowing playfully, "that you didn't arrange the Portkey to drop me straight into your arms on purpose?"
Before I could respond, her brow lifted. "And are you planning on putting me down," she added sweetly, "or are you enjoying the feeling of my arse that much?"
It took a fraction of a second for my brain to catch up with my hands.
Oh.
I froze, then realised exactly where I was holding her.
Merlin.
I let go instantly, but far too late to stop my fingers from tightening reflexively for the briefest moment. She made a small, surprised eep sound that went straight through me.
"I-I'm so sorry," I said quickly, heat creeping up my neck. I lowered her carefully back onto her feet, making a conscious effort to keep my hands firmly above board. "That was entirely unintentional. I assure you."
She steadied herself, smoothing her dress, though her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright with laughter rather than offense.
Sebastian, to his eternal credit, had stared resolutely at the wall the entire time, as if nothing unusual had occurred at all.
I cleared my throat, offering her my arm with what dignity I could muster. "Welcome to L'enchantement," I said. "I hope the journey wasn't too… abrupt."
And as she slipped her arm through mine, still smiling, I had the distinct feeling that this evening was going to be anything but calm.
…
I led Tonks to her seat, my hand hovering briefly at her back without quite touching, guiding her around the table. With a small flourish, I pulled the chair out for her.
She paused, eyes flicking up to mine, then sat.
The moment she did, the centerpiece reacted.
The flower arrangement at the center of the table stirred as if waking from sleep. Tight buds unfurled one by one, petals opening in a slow, elegant bloom. Roses emerged, their colours shifting gently between soft white and delicate pink, the hues flowing into each other like breath. A faint sparkle of magic shimmered in the air, accompanied by a subtle floral scent that wasn't overpowering, just… inviting.
Tonks leaned forward slightly, eyes shining. "Oh," she breathed. "They're beautiful."
I took the opposite chair, allowing myself a small smile. "They're charmed to respond to first impressions," I said lightly. "I'd say they approve."
Before she could reply, Sebastian appeared soundlessly at my side and poured the wine smoothly, the liquid catching the light like pale gold with a blush beneath the surface.
I lifted my glass.
Tonks mirrored the gesture, her movements still a little careful, as if she was afraid to spill even a drop.
"To our second date," I said, meeting her eyes over the rim, "and here's to hoping it's just one of many more to come."
Her smile softened, just for a moment, before she clinked her glass against mine. "I'll drink to that."
We sipped.
The reaction was immediate.
Tonks' eyes widened, her posture straightening as if she'd been jolted by a spell. She stared at the glass, then took another, smaller sip, as though confirming the experience was real.
"Yes," I said, amused. "Veela wine does that to people. Some say it tastes like first love."
She swallowed, then let out a quiet, incredulous laugh. "I'm not even a fan of wine," she admitted, "but this is definitely the most delicious one I've ever tasted."
"It has to be," I replied casually. "Each bottle costs about a thousand Galleons. That's for the regular vintage. This one's from 1912." I took another sip. "Which makes it almost invaluable. Fortunately, Nick has several bottles he can't drink even if he wanted to. His wife won't let him. And this one is amongst the least precious in his collection."
Her eyes went impossibly wide.
She inhaled sharply and nearly choked, but sheer willpower kept the wine safely contained. She froze for a heartbeat, glass hovering midair, then very carefully set it down as if it might explode.
"That- that costs how much?"
I watched, thoroughly entertained, as she refused to waste even a single drop.
"Who's Nick?" she asked after a moment, still staring suspiciously at the glass.
"Oh," I said lightly, "he's my mentor. The same one who secured the reservation here. Nicolas Flamel."
Her jaw dropped.
Quite literally.
Her metamorphmagus abilities betrayed her entirely. Her eyes grew comically large, her mouth stretching just a fraction too wide, like a living illustration in a children's caricature. It was utterly endearing.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
"You're joking," she said faintly. "Here I was feeling proud about being Moody's apprentice, and you tell me you trained under the most famous alchemist in the world. The one who's basically Merlin to the French."
"It wasn't easy," I said, still smiling. "I had to pass a test I didn't even realise was a test before he agreed to teach me." I leaned back slightly. "I nearly died, you know."
Her expression snapped back to normal, concern flashing across her face. "You're serious."
"Quite."
Sebastian reappeared just as we finished our first glasses, setting down the appetizer with perfect timing. Steam curled upward from the bowls, carrying the rich, comforting scent of herbs and vegetables.
"Magical minestrone," Sebastian announced softly, then vanished once more.
Tonks picked up her spoon, glancing at me over the rim. "So… what were your lessons with Flamel like?"
As we ate, I told her.
About cramming decades, possibly centuries, of alchemical theory into mere months. About endless hours bent over parchments, runes swimming before my eyes. About the Pensieve sessions, memories layered over memories, knowledge forced into place with careful mind magic.
"It was the only way," I admitted. "And even then, there's still so much I don't know."
She listened intently, barely touching her soup.
"Unfortunately," I continued more quietly, "Nick doesn't have long left. He's decided it's time to pass on. Finally."
Her spoon paused midair. "Are you… sad about it?"
I considered the question carefully before answering.
"No," I said at last. "They've been alive for over six centuries. Nick and Perenelle both." I smiled faintly. "They deserve rest, don't you think?"
She nodded slowly.
"I'll miss them," I added. "But the best I can do is see them off with a smile."
Across the table, Tonks reached for her glass again, her expression softer now, more thoughtful.
And for the first time that evening, the magic in the air felt quieter.
…
Dinner flowed effortlessly after that.
Course followed course in a leisurely rhythm, as if the restaurant itself had decided time should slow down for us. The main dish was exquisite, rich without being heavy, every bite layered with subtle enchantments that warmed the senses rather than overwhelming them. Salad came next, crisp and refreshing, the greens practically humming with freshness. Then the cheese course, carefully curated, each piece paired with whispered notes of charm that made the flavours linger just a little longer than they should have.
Dessert was indulgent and dangerous, all velvet sweetness and delicate magic that left Tonks closing her eyes after the first bite, letting out a small, utterly sincere hum of approval.
By the end of it, her cheeks were faintly flushed, her hair tipping decisively back toward bright pink after cycling through the whole rainbow.
We declined any further alcohol for the digestif. Tonks leaned back in her chair, laughing softly as she admitted, "If I drink any more, I might start telling you embarrassing childhood stories."
Coffee arrived instead, dark and aromatic, grounding us pleasantly as the warmth seeped into our hands through porcelain cups.
When we were finished, Sebastian appeared once more, inclining his head respectfully. "Monsieur Lockhart," he said quietly, "the rooftop is prepared."
Tonks glanced at me, one eyebrow lifting in clear, curious question.
I rose and offered her my hand. "Care to see one last surprise?"
She took it, letting me help her to her feet, and I led her through a discreet side door and up a narrow staircase tucked away from the rest of the restaurant.
The rooftop was… intimate.
Unlike the rest of L'enchantement, it hadn't been magically expanded. Instead, it felt deliberately contained. A small open space lay at the center, surrounded by lush plants and flowering vines that climbed trellises and railings, leaves brushing gently in the night breeze. Floating lights drifted lazily through the air, glowing soft gold and lavender, like fireflies caught in a dream.
Paris stretched beyond the edge, distant and glittering, but up here it felt like a hidden garden suspended between worlds.
Music played softly, the melody slow and inviting.
I turned to Tonks and held out my hand again. "May I?"
She eyed me, lips quirking. "Are you sure?" she asked. "You know how clumsy I am. I don't think your toes would survive an entire song."
I smiled. "My shoes are reinforced," I assured her. "You may go wild and step on me as much as you like."
Her eyebrow rose higher. "Are you absolutely sure you don't have some strange fetish you're not telling me about?"
I wagged my brows at her. "Oh, I have plenty of those," I said lightly. "But I promise you, this isn't one of them."
She snorted, unable to help herself, and placed her hand in mine.
I drew her closer, one hand settling firmly at her waist. She rested her other hand on my shoulder, tentative at first. The music guided us, and I moved easily, letting the rhythm carry us forward.
Tonks tried, very earnestly, not to embarrass herself.
Her steps were a fraction behind, her balance wavering now and then, but every time she faltered, my grip tightened just enough to steady her. I could feel her relax as she realised I wasn't going to let her fall.
She laughed quietly, breath warm against my collarbone.
By the time the song faded, we were standing in the middle of the rooftop garden, lights drifting slowly around us, the city murmuring far below. She looked up at me, eyes bright, lips parted slightly, her hair glowing pink under the enchanted lights.
The moment stretched.
I lowered my head.
And then…
She lifted a finger and pressed it gently against my lips.
"Ah, ah, ah," she said, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't think it's going to be that easy."
I froze, blinking.
"The dinner was wonderful," she continued, counting off points lightly. "The wine was beyond delicious. The conversation? Entertaining." She smiled. "And I'll admit, you've got some very good moves."
I waited, bemused.
"But if you think that's all you need to conquer me," she said firmly, "you're completely wrong. You need to talk to my parents first." She tilted her head. "Ask my dad for permission to date me."
I stared at her.
My expression must have been spectacular, because she broke almost immediately.
She snorted, then burst into laughter, doubling over slightly. "Oh, you should have seen your face," she said between giggles. "I'm kidding. Completely kidding."
Before I could recover, she grabbed my collar and tugged me down.
But this time, I stopped her.
"Maybe you're right," I said calmly, just as she was about to close the distance. "Maybe we're moving too fast. We should wait until the next date. Then you can introduce me to your parents, and we'll see how things go."
Her mouth fell open.
I smiled. "Got you."
She growled, actually growled, and launched herself at me.
Her lips crashed into mine with enthusiasm rather than grace, and I caught her automatically, arms locking around her as our teeth bumped together. Neither of us cared. The kiss deepened, breathless and laughing, hands gripping fabric, the world narrowing to warmth and movement and the unmistakable certainty that this was very real.
When we finally pulled apart, both of us slightly unsteady, the lights drifted lazily overhead, the music had long since faded, and the night felt charged with possibility.
And I knew, without a doubt…
This was only the beginning.
…