Feuilly (
tu_vas_triompher) wrote2017-03-28 08:02 pm
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Labyrinth
One moment, the Labyrinth doorway. The next, a narrow bed in a cold room. A scuffling sound at the window pane, sparrows landing and then taking off again. An argument in some other room, muffled by walls but not very well: Go to hell, you're not my husband, you can't come here and talk like that to my kids.
It's all in French.
It's all in French.
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He's turning a bit pink again, remembering that particular room: his first that he'd had all to himself, so he'd been proud of it, but not a place he'd particularly have planned to show Harry.
Then again, Harry wouldn't have particularly planned to introduce him to Kate that way. "Yes. She was looking after you. Uh, and me, I guess. There was some soup..."
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Feuilly laughs uneasily. "I liked her."
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Which...isn't necessarily Harry's strongest point!
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"I had but little space to speak," he says dryly. "But I was glad of their kindness, bewildered as I was. I might well have done naught but wander the streets without them."
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He leans against Harry's shoulder, quiet. "You may have done better than I did, there."
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...though he hesitates for a second, just in case a dragon cracks through the marble floor.
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....................
wait for it...................
....................................nah.
It's just that room. And outside, the horses; and down the mountain, Milliways.