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Chapter 3: You speak French?

Harry and Draco strolled through the vibrant streets of Paris, their fingers intertwined, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly baked pastries and the lively chatter of locals and tourists alike.

"How about we stop for a coffee?" Harry suggested, nodding towards a cozy-looking café with outdoor seating.

Draco's eyes lit up with excitement. "That sounds perfect," he replied, following Harry inside.

Seated at a table by the window, Harry admired the way Draco effortlessly ordered their drinks in flawless French. "You speak French fluently?" he asked, genuinely impressed.

Draco chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. "Well, I did spend a summer in the south of France during my Hogwarts days. My mother insisted," he explained, flashing Harry a charming smile.

Harry grinned, feeling a surge of affection for Draco. "Is there anything you can't do?" he teased, reaching across the table to squeeze Draco's hand.

Draco's cheeks flushed pink at the praise, but he brushed it off with a playful smirk. "I'm sure you'll find something eventually," he replied, his tone teasing.

Their coffees arrived, and they sipped them slowly, savoring the rich flavors and the warmth of each other's company. Harry couldn't shake the feeling of admiration for Draco, marveling at his ability to effortlessly navigate a foreign language.

After finishing their drinks, they made their way to the Musée d'Orsay, the grandeur of the museum taking their breath away as they stepped inside. Draco's eyes sparkled with excitement as he admired the impressive collection of art that surrounded them.

They wandered through the museum, Draco stopping in front of a particularly striking painting—a masterpiece that seemed to capture the essence of Paris in its vibrant colors and intricate details.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Draco remarked, his voice filled with awe as he studied the painting.

Harry's heart swelled with pride as he watched Draco, his admiration for his partner growing with each passing moment. "It is," Harry agreed, his gaze never leaving Draco's face.

They spent the rest of the morning exploring the museum, lost in the beauty and history of each artwork. Draco shared his thoughts and insights as they walked, his passion for art shining through with every word.

"This painting here," Draco began, gesturing to a serene landscape, "it reminds me of the countryside back home. The way the artist captures the light—it's breathtaking."

Harry nodded in agreement, soaking in Draco's observations with genuine interest. "It's amazing how art can evoke such strong emotions," he remarked, his voice filled with wonder.

Draco smiled, his eyes softening as he turned to Harry. "It's one of the things I love most about it," he admitted, reaching out to take Harry's hand in his own.

They walked from room to room, their conversation flowing effortlessly as they shared stories and laughter amidst the art. Harry felt a sense of connection with Draco, unlike anything he had ever experienced before, grateful for this moment in the heart of Paris.