HP: Panem et Circenses

March 16th, 1996

A blue, cloudless sky stretched over the Black Lake and the vast grounds surrounding the Castle. Bright rays of morning sun sparkled in the windows of the Durmstrang ship and the countless shattered ice floes that were carried to the shores by small, steady waves.

'Calm down.' Tristan took a deep breath, smothering a flutter of nerves as he lingered in front of the two crossed golden wands, each emitting three stars. 'It's just a date. Nothing to worry about...'

He knocked on the abnormally large door three times, then stepped back down the golden steps and waited.

Faint voices drifted closer from within the Beauxbatons Carriage. A brunette girl opened the door; bright crimson invaded her cheeks and her eyes nearly doubled in size when she noticed Tristan.

'She looks awfully familiar...'

"Bonjour." Tristan waved his hand rather awkwardly. "I'm looking for-"

"Julia?! Who is it?" Ginger hair and a prominent pig nose poked over the brunette girl's shoulder.

'She looks very familiar as well…' Tristan cringed. 'I'm almost certain that's Aimée.'

"Bonjour!" Aimée let out a small squeak and opened the door invitingly, revealing a long, red-carpeted corridor. "You're Tristan Peverell, non? Would you like to come inside?"

"Um, actually I-"

"Non, he would not, Aimée."

Fleur faded into view within the carriage, dressed in a coat and high boots of matching dark blue with her hair braided down her left shoulder. She strode past the shorter two girls and floated down the golden stairs.

"Tristan is here to pick me up."

A slim pair of arms slipped around his neck and she pressed hot, lingering kisses to each of his cheeks. Linking their arms, Fleur turned back around and smirked up at her peers. "Do you need anything from the village, Aimée?"

Aimée looked like she was swallowing the worst type of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. She slammed the door shut with a final, envious glare.

"That explains why you insisted I pick you up at your carriage instead of simply meeting me out on the grounds," Tristan snorted and led the way down toward the village. "Your sister was definitely right about you having a possessive streak..."

Fleur glanced up at him; the innocent batting of her dark eyelashes failed to obscure the ghost of a smirk. "Are you telling me you don't have one as well?"

"No, I probably do too," he chuckled. "In retrospect, I quite like the idea of you staking your claim on me."

"It's only our first date, Tristan," Fleur laughed softly. "Don't think too highly of yourself just yet."

He fumbled through his robes with his unoccupied hand. "Well, I got you a little something anyways."

"A present?" Her eyes sparkled playfully. "Is it a flower?"

"Of course not, Fleur," he snorted and revealed a small wrapped box. "I'm more creative than that."

She unlinked their arms and eagerly discarded the red ribbon with nimble fingers, unwrapping a slim bar of dark chocolate.

"It's Honeydukes' finest, my favorite," Tristan said. "If you like it we can go there later and buy some more."

"First it needs to pass my test." Fleur broke the bar in half and slipped one piece through her red lips.

He watched with a small smile. "And?"

"Mhm." She closed her eyes and a soft moan escaped her throat. "I knew you'd have very good taste."

A tiny smear of chocolate stained her bottom lip. Tristan wrestled the impulse to draw her close and kiss it away. "Are we still talking about chocolate?"

"Bien sur," Fleur smirked. Her fingers paused an inch before her lips with the remaining piece. "Say ah, Tristan."

"Ah." Tristan opened his mouth with a grin, letting her slip the piece past his lips. "I'm surprised you're sharing with me. Gabby told me she usually has to pull your hair for something as small as a cherry."

"Don't listen to anything the little harpy tells you." Fleur rolled her eyes. "I'm convinced she has bribed Madame Maxime to allow her to stay here even longer. I just don't know with what yet."

She linked their arms again like it was the most normal thing to do. The heat of her burnt against his skin like summer sunlight.

The untouched wilderness soon yielded to quaint, thatched buildings with frosted windows and bright-painted doors.

"So... this is Hogsmeade." Tristan glanced down at her. "Where would you like to go first?"

Fleur hummed, eyes roaming down the main street lined with shops and inns. He tracked her line of sight to a familiar sign and snorted. "Very well, Honeydukes it is."

"On y va, Tristan." Fleur laughed softly and her step quickened. "You don't want to keep a lady waiting, non?"

She dragged him up the stairs and into the shop with surprising strength. Sweet fumes drifted from the stacked shelves, mixing into an aroma so thick he could practically taste the sugar on his tongue.

Fleur bounced past stacks of sweetened crystals, boxes of Firewhiskey chocolate, and piles of Sugar Quills to a shelf with chocolate bars piled to the ceiling.

She began rummaging through the sentiment with a wide smile, thrusting two thick bars into Tristan's hands.

"Careful, I can only help you carry, not pay," he quipped. "I'll already have to pick up a job over the summer to finance a loan for my new wand."

"Merde," Fleur pouted, her eyes roaming him up and down. "How many more can you carry pour moi?"

"Let's see." Tristan opened his coat and stored both bars in the inner left pocket, then tested the depth of the empty right one. "I can fit at least two on each side."

"Parfait," Fleur loaded her arms with six more bars and skipped down the aisle to the front of the shop, stacking them neatly on the cashier's desk.

The young man dragged his eyes from Fleur's face and flushed crimson. "Eight bars... that'll be sixteen sickles in total, Ms."

"Keep the change, Monsieur." Fleur handed him a sparkling galleon and loaded both arms, then waddled to the exit.

Tristan held open the door for her and picked two bars from the top of her pile just before they threatened to plunge. "I'm not sure if the poor guy was gaping at you or if such generosity from a French tourist just surprised him."

She stepped underneath his chin and smirked up at him, cramping not two but three bars into each of his pockets. "Well, someone has to support your local English economy." Her smirk softened as she buttoned his cloak back up and patted his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "Merci, Tristan."

Tristan felt like he'd swallowed a cauldron of butterflies. A warm glow radiated from his heart and spread further through his body.

'Could it always be like this?' A fierce yearning rose within him when she slipped her fingers through his and squeezed them gently; it burned as sharp as when he'd first laid eyes on his new wand. 'If so, she's definitely worth the wait...'

"You're very welcome." He cleared his throat and clawed for a distraction. "Though I'm starting to question your dietary habits with what I see you eat most days."

"Vraiment?" Fleur whirled at him, her slim eyebrows drawn together. "Have you been watching me eat?"

He chuckled. "I noticed you enjoy hot chocolate with whipped cream and very... generous amounts of dessert. Soon I'll have to call you just Fleur instead of petite Fleur."

"Are you sure?" Fleur smirked and raised his arms to twirl underneath it. "I don't think I need to worry anytime soon, non?"

Tristan let his gaze roam over each cloak-wrapped curve, then slowly dragged his eyes back up and met her confident smirk. "No, I think you're good for a while. But I wonder how that's possible?"

"It's my veela heritage," Fleur laughed. "The allure is a continuous piece of magic that needs to be sustained."

"With sweet things?"

"Bien sur," she bobbed her head. "My allure is much stronger than most, which allows me to eat more sweet things than other veela."

Tristan sighed. "I'm like 99% sure you're having me on right now." He shook his head in amusement. "I should've really read those books on veela before asking you on a date."

"You're too late now," Fleur smirked. "There's a waiting list and it's over four months long."

"Poor me," Tristan sighed and clutched his chest dramatically. "There goes my only chance for happiness. Now I have to compete against countless experts on veela for your attention."

Fleur rolled her eyes. "We both know they don't rent out those books to learn more about my kind; they're only interested in the silly drawings."

"Admittedly those were quite good and... very detailed," Tristan scratched his jaw.

Her eyes darkened a hue and a small pout crept into her expression.

"However-" he bent down and kissed her upturned lips until they curved into a small smile, "-drawings don't come anywhere close to the real thing."

"Très bien," Fleur huffed and stuck her nose in the air. She intertwined their fingers again and leaned against his side as they strolled down the cobbles to the village square.

Pink-framed windows and a heart-scattered white door stood out from a row of ordinary houses.

"Que bizarre." Fleur's brows drew together as she took in the pink cushions, walls, and chairs and the nearly two dozen couples crammed amidst them. "What is this place and why would anyone want to go here?"

"This is Madam Puddifoot's," Tristan snorted. "And I was really hoping we could skip it."

"You hear that?" Someone scoffed from behind them. "Ordinary cafes aren't good enough for the lofty champions anymore."

'And here they come...' Tristan glanced over his shoulder with a sigh.

A handful of upper-year 'claws and 'puffs shuffled behind them. Cho Chang clung to Diggory's side, snickering at her boyfriend's remark. Roger Davies leered next to them; on his arm was no other than Adelaide, who, for some reason, was looking at Tristan extremely smugly.

He barely stifled a snort. 'Now that's an interesting match.'

Fleur regarded the group coolly. "We simply don't share Madam Puddifoot's taste in interior design, Monsieur Diggory." She wrinkled her nose at the pink cushions, then threaded her fingers through his and tugged gently. "But don't let us stop you from... enjoying your time in there."

"How bloody pathetic," Davies called over their shoulders. "No wonder you're performing so terribly in the tournament, Peverell. That creature has you by the balls."

Fleur paused in her step and her hand slipped through his. Fury flashed through Tristan's veins and he whirled around, wand slipping into his palm. Almost a dozen wand ends met his.

"Non." Fleur's hand came down on his arm. Heat haze danced around her fingers and small white fluff poked through her skin. "I want to enjoy this day with you. Don't let them ruin our time together."

Tristan clenched his jaw, wrestling with his wand's furious roars.

"I don't like them calling you names and thinking they can get away with it," he hissed. Familiar words rose from the back of his mind. "Why should we allow that when we're so much greater than any of them."

"Greater?" Diggory mocked. "You're nothing but a coward, Peverell. A coward who betrayed his school and country the moment some foreign veela spread her legs for him."

Fleur's fingers grew hot to the point of pain but remained firmly on his hand. Her eyes darkened to the color of the Black Lake as she took in Diggory.

"It's rather ironic that you talk about cowardness and betrayal, Monsieur Diggory, non? Does your girlfriend know you asked me out to the Yule Ball shortly before your friend did?"

A low murmur rumbled through the crowd of Hogwarts' students.

"Ced?" Chang hissed and yanked at her boyfriend's arm. "Is that true?"

"What?!" Diggory's cheeks turned crimson in anger. "No, I would never!" He blurted, his eyes frantically seeking out his friend.

"She's obviously lying, Cho." Davies came to his rescue. "The veela wants to play us against each other just like she tried to use me to make Peverell jealous." His face twisted into an ugly snarl. "I went along with it and fucked her a few times before I grew tired of her silly games. That's something you should probably know, Peverell."

Tristan's heart froze and the world blurred into dizziness. Before his mind's eye, Davies' hands slid over Fleur's body as she clung to him; her soft gasps and moans rang in his ears mixing with yowls and cheers from Davies' friends as they clapped him smartly on the shoulder.

Magic swirled around his knuckles in flashes of hot and cold as he took the first step toward them. A storm threatened to burst through his breast, screaming and scorching so deep it seared the breath from his lungs.

"Tristan," Fleur's face appeared in his path, one warm hand pressed against his chest, the other cupped his jaw. "Tristan, look at me."

He paused and glanced down. "Is it true?"

"Non," she whispered, holding his gaze with calm blue eyes. "Never."

A tiny knot of doubt chewed at him. "Promise me."

"Je promets, Tristan." Fleur cupped his face with both hands. "Don't listen to him. Envious people will always spin their web of lies to escape their shallow little lives."

Tristan's gaze flickered over her shoulder to Davies' smug expression across the street.

"Why do we let them spin their web?" He clamped down on a hot rush of bitter, searing fury and grabbed his wand tighter. "I'd much rather cut right through it."

"We will," Fleur whispered as she drew his head down for a kiss, tracing her tongue over his lower lips. "When the time is right."

His breathing steadied and his heartbeat slowed as the storm faded.

"Fine," Tristan murmured, slipping his wand back up his sleeve.

He allowed her to direct him further down the street, concentrating hard on the warmth of her hand when loud howls and snickers rang from behind.

They entered the Three Broomsticks and Fleur ushered him onto the bench by a small table in the back of the pub.

"Stay here and watch this for me." She unbuttoned her cloak and pushed it onto his lap. "I'll get us something to drink."

Tristan protested. "No, Fleur, you shouldn't have-"

She silenced him with a finger on his lips. "You can pay for the next round. Or perhaps on a second date, non?"

He grinned. "So there'll be a second?"

"Peut-être," Fleur smirked and turned toward the bar. Conversations parted for her like clouds before a summer sun and she drew the eyes of almost every customer in the inn on herself.

Tristan watched as she approached Madam Rosmerta. The group of seventh-year Gryffindors that were blatantly checking out the red-haired barmaid now turned their attention to Fleur and chatted her up from the side.

'I don't think I'd ever get used to that.' His gut coiled in distaste and he had to force himself to remain seated, digging his fingers deep into the soft fabric of Fleur's coat.

'But I'm the one who's here with her. She chose me over them,' Tristan reminded himself and took a deep breath. 'Because I'm different from them. So I need to be different for her.'

Fleur slipped onto the bench opposite him, sliding a mug of steaming hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and a bright red cherry across the table. "À la vôtre."

"I should've known," Tristan snorted. "Cheers."

He took a few small sips, then sat the mug back down and compared the height of their topping. "How come you've got almost double the amount of whipped cream I do?"

Fleur smiled at him innocently and slipped the cherry past her lips. "I have no idea what you mean, Tristan."

Her gaze flickered to his cherry, lips curving into a small pout.

"Fine, you can have it," Tristan grinned. He picked up the cherry between two fingers. "But you'll have to say ah for me, petite Fleur."

"I suppose that's fair." She leaned across the table and opened her mouth, holding his gaze with eyes that flashed with laughter. "Ah."

Tristan brushed his thumb across her lower lip and let her pick the cherry from between his fingers with her teeth.

She swallowed it and licked her lips. "Merci."

"At least this time you asked for it." Tristan chuckled. "Back at Slughorn's party you just stole them from me."

Fleur smirked in between small sips of hot chocolate. "I wouldn't have minded if you'd fed them to me one by one just like you did now."

The humor drained away and the words tumbled from his tongue before he could stop them. "I'm sure your date for the night would've minded."

The warm sparkle vanished from her eyes and she sat her mug back down to take his hand in hers.

"Is this about what Roger said earlier? I already promised you that nothing happened, Tristan. Not that it would even matter since at that time you were still fooling around with the shallow, little redhead."

"The difference between Adelaide and Davies is that at one point I actually cared about her," Tristan murmured, glancing down to where her thumb ran small circles over the back of his hand. "Apparently you only used him to get a rise out of me. So how am I supposed to know how far you'd go?"

"I would never let him touch me like that." Fleur wrinkled her nose. "I just needed you to finally notice me."

Tristan blinked. "But... why?"

A touch of pink crept up her cheek. "I wanted to get a feel for my competitor. All the other boys were chasing me. Only you didn't..."

He snorted. "That doesn't make any sense to me. You want me to be different but at the same time I'm supposed to chase you like all the other boys?"

"It's a veela thing, you wouldn't get it." A wicked little gleam crept into her eye. "Besides, we're here together now so it all worked out in the end, non?"

"I suppose it did," Tristan laughed, feeling his gaze dipping to her lips.

She caught his eye and smirked. "What are you thinking about?"

"This." He gave himself a push and leaned over the table to kiss her.

Fleur's tongue slipped into his mouth, coaxing his taste buds with the lingering flavor of chocolate and sweet cherry.

Tristan drew back eventually, a small smile playing on his lips and a warm glow radiating from his heart. "Thank you, Fleur."

"For the kiss?" Her lips quirked. "You can have another if you ask nicely. You don't have to steal them anymore..."

He chuckled weakly. "No, I mean for- for what you did out there. For reigning me in."

Her eyes darkened a hue. "I'd much rather spend the day sipping hot chocolate and kissing you instead of explaining to Madame why a group of Hogwarts students suffer from magical burns in the hospital wing."

'Magical burns...' Roger Davies' smug expression drifted to the front of his mind and a spike of cold hatred surged through him. 'I would've done much worse than just burn them.'

He took a calming breath and banished the thought, fixing a smile on his face. "Good thing one of us kept a cool head and acted maturely then."

"It'll come with time." Fleur hummed. "I am a bit older than you after all."

"True." Tristan stifled a small grimace. "Are you- are you still seventeen or eighteen already?"

Fleur watched him calmly over the edge of her mug. "I am seventeen."

'Thank Merlin.'

"That makes me feel a bit better," Tristan smothered a tiny flare of nerves underneath a low chuckle. "Though I'm sure some people would still call you a cradle snatcher."

"Most people would actually envy you for going on dates with an older veela. You're living out the dream of many adolescent wizards, Tristan." She ran a hand over her long braided hair. "But there's no need to fret about our age gap. My birthday is October the first so it's even less than one year actually."

"Huh, I didn't even know that." Tristan filed away the date and eyed her carefully. "Come to think of it, I don't know very much about you despite everything that happened between us already."

"That's what we get for not doing things the… conventional way." Fleur's lips quirked. "But we are here on a date now, non? So let's get to know each other."

"I suppose we should," Tristan hummed. "I- I just don't have much experience with dates."

"Me neither," she murmured. "Despite what the other girls like to say about me."

"Tell me about you then," he said. "About the real Fleur Delacour, not the one they gossip about."

Fleur toyed with her spoon for a few moments.

"My family lives near Marseille in the south of France. That's where I grew up, in a chateau near the coast."

"Chateau?" Tristan blinked. "You grew up in a castle?"

"Non," she laughed softly. "All old French houses are called chateaus."

"Is your family high in standing then?"

She nodded. "My father is a consultant for the Bureau de la Justice Magique, the French version of your Department of Magical Law enforcement."

'I wonder if I'd seen him during my little trip.' Tristan smothered a flutter of unease. "And what does your mother do?"

"She runs a small magical apothecary; potion ingredients, cauldrons, some rare herbs, and so on..." Fleur shrugged her slim shoulders. "She only started it because she grew bored with my father being gone most of the day and me and Gabby being away for primary school and later Beauxbatons."

"Primary school? I didn't know there was a magical version of it in France."

"There isn't," Fleur said. "Gabby and I went to a local muggle primary school."

Tristan frowned. "Did- didn't that cause any issue with accidental magic or your... heritage?"

"Perhaps once or twice, but more the accidental magic," Fleur laughed softly. "Something you'd know if you read the books on us is that muggles don't recognize our allure, even squibs don't. It only affects those with magic, so for them I was just a pretty little girl with strange platinum hair." Her eyes lost some of their glow and dipped to her mug. "Besides, our allure usually doesn't develop until we've hit puberty. And once it does, everything changes..."

"If you don't mind me asking…" Tristan carefully probed, "how did things change for you?"

"I didn't always sit by myself during meals, I used to have friends... or so I thought." She glanced back up at him, dark shadows drifting through her irises. "I hit puberty later than most of my peers, but when I did, it was like a caterpillar that escaped its cocoon and turned into the most beautiful butterfly."

She took a small sip and licked her lips.

"All of my friends had been interested in boys already, some even had their first boyfriends and they all loved to flaunt their early kisses in my face. But when I returned to Beauxbatons the summer after my fourth year, their boyfriends slowly started noticing me... and one by one, they all left their partners to chase after me."

Tristan grimaced. "I bet the girls didn't like that."

"Non, they didn't," Fleur murmured, drawing a long breath. "I can hardly blame hormonal teenage boys. Resistance to the allure, especially one as strong as mine, is close to impossible at that age. But my friends didn't care about that... They got so envious that they convinced themselves I did it deliberately, despite witnessing just how much I was suffering from the abrupt changes in my body and magic myself."

"They didn't deserve your friendship then."

"No, they didn't." A bright, sharp smile curved Fleur's red lips. "But I'm almost thankful for their betrayal and the hardship they made me suffer through. It turned me into the very person they'll all envy for the rest of their shallow, little lives."

'She's just like me.' Things suddenly fell in order as if the first domino had been flipped.

"But they didn't stop at just blaming you for turning the heads of their weak-willed boyfriends, did they?" Tristan studied her intently. "Jealousy spreads like a disease and so the grades you earned, the way a teacher treated you... or any of your other accomplishments were reduced to your pretty face and heritage instead of your skill..."

"Oui." Fleur's irises flashed midnight blue. "To them, none of it counted anymore."

He nodded slowly. "And so at one point you just stopped caring and decided if you can't convince them, then you'll just beat them in every way imaginable." He spread his arms with a small smile. "Well, Fleur... Here's your chance to do so in the most renowned competition of the entire wizarding world."

The darkness drained from her eyes.

"Being better than them... winning... is all I have left, Tristan." She smiled softly and reached across the table, slipping her fingers through his. "Don't worry, you can still make an excellent runner-up, non?"

He laughed. "I wouldn't write myself off just yet. You're not the only one that has something to-"

"Tristan?"

He whirled in his seat at the sound of a familiar voice. 'There's no way.'

His mother emerged from within the crowd, dressed in tight robes of dark green with her hair held up in an elaborate bun. Her eyes found Tristan and she smiled brightly. The second her gaze flickered across the table, her lips grew as thin as McGonagall's.

"Mother?!" Tristan was still gaping at her. "What- what are you doing up here?"

His father appeared beside her. "Your sister mentioned you'd be in the Three Broomsticks." The ghost of a grin spasmed across his features. "But for some reason, she failed to mention you had such lovely company already..."

'Bloody well played, Valeria,' Tristan cursed under his breath. 'I'm going to break into her dorm and steal all her chocolate for that.'

"Why the long face, Tristan?" His father scooped an arm around his mother's waist, drawing her closer. "Now that we already crashed your date you might as well introduce us, don't you think so?"

Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Mother... Father... this is Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion."

He turned to offer Fleur an apologetic smile, yet his date was already caught in the middle of a staring contest, holding his mother's intense gaze with calm blue eyes and without blinking once.

'This won't go well.' Tristan cringed. "Fleur, these are my parents. Marlene Peverell née McKinnon and Harry-"

"Just Harry will do," his father laughed and offered his hand enthusiastically. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Fleur."

Fleur finally blinked and rose gracefully from the bench. She straightened out her long braid, showing no signs of nerves or discomfort.

"The pleasure is mine." She smiled warmly. "Your son looks like the spitting image of you." She turned to Tristan's mother. He noticed that they were almost the same height, with Fleur being perhaps an inch taller. "Except for his eyes of course. He's got those from you…"

'Please don't make a scene... Please don't make a scene...'

His mother regarded the offered hand for a long moment before removing her thin black gloves and shaking it.

"Thank Merlin.' Tristan exhaled in relief.

"Charmed to make your acquaintances," she murmured. "We've... heard a lot about you already, Fleur."

'Don't you bloody dare mention it...' Heat crept up Tristan's cheeks and he cleared his throat audibly.

"Only good things of course," his father chimed in, gently nudging his wife with his elbow. "Your performances during both tasks were very impressive, wasn't it love?"

"Indeed, it was." His mother's smile remained guarded. "I'm sure Valeria will have expressed it already, but you have our gratitude for aiding our daughter and son in the forbidden forest. If there's anything we can do for you, you'll merely have to say so."

"Merci, Madame Peverell." Fleur inclined her head. "Your son would do the same for me in a heartbeat," she offered the older witch the hint of a smirk. "That, and some chocolate from the Honeydukes is all I could ever want."

His father chuckled heartily. "I like her! She's obviously got good taste in men and sweets."

Tristan groaned in embarrassment.

"Awesome." He clapped his hand. "Now that we all know each other, could you please...?"

"Of course, of course." The smile remained in place yet the humor faded from his father's green orbs. "Fleur, would you mind if I robbed you of my son's charming company and left you with my wife for just a moment?"

"He's all yours." Fleur's eye flickered past his mother and rested on him, her lips curving into a full smirk. "Literally."

"I'll be right back," Tristan sighed and shuffled behind his father until they were out of ears' reach.

"What is it then?!" he asked in irritation. "You two better not be here just to barge in on my date."

The tip of a pale, knotted wand poked out from within his father's sleeve and the loud noises around them died.

"This belongs to you." His father handed him the amulet he had used to portkey Aurelia to safety. "If you press your thumb on the crest and say the word 'home', it'll take you straight to our manor. Valeria and Galahad already have their own."

"How does it work?" Tristan slipped the chain over his head and studied the tiny runes that had been added curiously. "And what kind of wards can I bypass?"

"Almost anything apart from those as powerful as the Castle's," his father murmured. "You should only use it in an emergency. There's a heavy price to pay for that kind of ability."

"Blood?" Tristan glanced up with a frown.

His father nodded. "And it'll weaken you for a few days so you won't be able to fight after using it."

"Got it." Tristan nodded and slipped it underneath his shirt. "If that's all we should probably go back to break up the imminent catfight."

His father's lips quivered. "Go back and show her a good time. Just be sure not to set the next date for the last weekend this month."

Tristan snorted. "And pray to tell me why I shouldn't?"

"Because I finally have a lead. And I did make a promise to you, did I not?"