The Lord of Ice and Magic

The café was warm, a stark contrast to the winter chill outside. Snowflakes drifted past the large windows, dusting the streets of Paris in a delicate white veil. Inside, the air was rich with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries.

Ezekiel sat across from Fleur Delacour, watching her with quiet curiosity. The flickering candlelight on the table illuminated her silver-blonde hair, making it shimmer like moonlight. There was something undeniably captivating about her presence, something that went beyond her beauty.

Fleur, for her part, was composed, her blue eyes thoughtful as she stirred her coffee. She had insisted on meeting in private, away from the prying eyes of her family, and Ezekiel could sense the weight of the conversation that was about to unfold.

"You came all the way to France just to talk about this?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Ezekiel leaned back, studying her carefully. "It's important, isn't it?"

She sighed, setting her cup down. "Oui. It is."

A heavy silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft clinking of cups and murmured conversations around them. Fleur glanced at him before speaking again, her tone softer this time.

"The Veela bond… it is not something we choose," she admitted. "It happens. And once it does, it cannot be ignored."

Ezekiel frowned slightly. "I gathered as much, but what exactly does it mean?"

Fleur hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "It means that, in some way, our magic has recognized each other. Veela do not bond with just anyone. There must be compatibility—true compatibility."

Ezekiel tapped his fingers against the wooden table, thinking. "So, my magic responded to yours?"

Fleur nodded. "Oui. It is not common, especially for a full human. But the bond does not lie."

He let out a slow breath. This wasn't just some fleeting attraction. It was something deeper, something that went beyond logic. He had felt it—the unspoken connection between them, the way he was always aware of her presence even when she wasn't speaking.

"And what happens now?" he asked.

Fleur looked down at her cup, tracing the rim with her finger. "That depends on us."

He studied her carefully. "Does this bother you?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "Non… but it surprises me."

Ezekiel chuckled. "You and me both."

Fleur exhaled softly, glancing up at him again. "The bond will not force us together. But it will not fade either. It will always be there, a connection between our magic."

Ezekiel considered her words carefully. "So, it's not some kind of… destined thing? We still have a choice?"

Fleur gave a small smile. "Oui. But ignoring it completely… would be difficult."

He nodded, understanding. It wasn't something either of them could simply brush aside. Even if they wanted to.

For a long moment, there was only silence. Fleur's gaze never wavered, and Ezekiel could feel the weight of her words settling over him.

Then she leaned forward slightly, her expression unreadable. "Tell me, Ezekiel… do you feel it?"

He knew exactly what she meant.

That strange, magnetic pull. The quiet hum in the air whenever she was near.

It wasn't overwhelming, but it was there—constant and unshakable.

"Yes," he admitted.

Fleur's lips pressed together before she let out a small sigh. "Then we should figure out what to do about it."

Ezekiel smirked. "I assume ignoring it isn't an option?"

Fleur rolled her eyes. "You are impossible."

He laughed, and for the first time, the tension between them eased.

She shook her head, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "We will take things slowly. There is no rush."

Ezekiel nodded. "Agreed."

They fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them.

Whatever this bond was, it was clear that it was only the beginning.

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