Chapter 245: Fleur's Compliment
"Alright, little one. No more drinking for now."
Leonardo patted the small empty oak barrel at his side and put it away.
The young Abraxan beneath him was clearly unhappy about this. It snorted its displeasure and scraped a hoof against the ground.
It hadn't fully grown yet, but its shoulder height already dwarfed even the largest Shire horse by a considerable margin.
Seeing it settle into the unmistakable posture of an animal that had no intention of moving until it got what it wanted, Leonardo smiled despite himself and pulled out a handful of specially prepared Abraxan feed.
He raised his right hand, palm upward.
A soft snort.
A steady flame kindled quietly in his palm. At the same moment, the fire-shaped marking on his middle finger glowed faintly, a barely perceptible thread of red-orange light flowing from it into the flame cupped in his hand.
He passed the flame slowly beneath the feed. The distinctive fire magic instantly drew out the deep, layered scent within it.
The sulking young Abraxan turned its head at once, tongue already reaching out eagerly.
Watching it, Leonardo's smile deepened. It made sense, really — the same way Thunderbirds were drawn to lightning, Abraxans had an innate affinity for pure fire element. It was simply in their nature.
Fleur rode alongside him on her own young Abraxan, her gaze resting steadily on his palm and the unusual flame burning there.
After the small, accidental incident earlier, the two of them had at least been formally introduced. When Fleur learned that Leonardo had Madame Maxime's permission to survey the mountains surrounding Beauxbatons, she offered to guide him.
For reasons she couldn't quite explain, the sight of that flame stirred something in her — a faint warmth, a quiet sense of resonance, as though she were looking at something drawn from the same source.
Her own Abraxan leaned over as well, large eyes fixed on the feed in Leonardo's hand, its intention entirely transparent.
Leonardo divided the remaining handful and held half out to it, saying quietly with a laugh:
"If you want a horse to run well, you have to feed it well first."
His own young Abraxan lifted its head and let out a loud, indignant whinny.
Leonardo understood. The little thing was still thinking about the whisky.
Developing a taste for it young, apparently.
"Guide us properly through the rest of the range," Leonardo told it, giving its sturdy neck a pat, "and there'll be good whisky waiting when we're done."
The other Abraxan's ears pricked up. It hastily swallowed its mouthful of feed and pushed forward with an eager whinny of its own.
Leonardo reached out and patted its large head.
"Yes, you too. But two barrels is far too much—you're both still growing. Too much will stunt you." He paused, as though genuinely weighing the matter. "One barrel. One barrel at most. What do you say?"
He negotiated with them patiently, back and forth, as though hammering out the terms of a business arrangement.
Fleur watched the whole exchange with a somewhat dazed expression.
She had heard it clearly — Leonardo had spoken in fluent French throughout, not in any magical creature's language. And yet the conversation between one person and two horses had flowed with impossible ease. Eyes, movement, tone — it was an actual exchange.
She couldn't hold back the question any longer.
"Leonardo — can you actually communicate directly with magical creatures?"
Leonardo was distributing feed evenly between the two young Abraxans, who had apparently reached a satisfactory agreement. He nodded as naturally as if she had asked whether he could ride a broom.
"Yes."
Fleur's eyes lit up immediately. A mix of curiosity and something more like a test flickered through those bright blue eyes.
The corner of her mouth curved with a hint of mischief. Her lips parted, and a stream of airy, melodic syllables flowed from her — not quite like any human language, carrying a sensation like the soft brush of feathers and the distant resonance of a forest.
Leonardo's eyebrow rose slightly. Veela language, unless he was mistaken.
As for the meaning—
He turned to Fleur with a calm smile.
"Thank you for the compliment," he replied, in clear French.