Within the book are the pages, and on the pages are the words.

[lupercus]

I realise that by posting I once again violate the terms of service of these journals by not, at present, being drunk, French, a pompous overstuffed peacock, or a Malfoy. I also regret not making any grand, cryptic statements announcing yet another public divorce. One of those is quite enough for me, thank you

Comments

[divineparvati]

Ooh la la!

[lupercus]

Can-can?

[divineparvati]

Oh, oui, monsieur!

[lupercus]

Je n'ai pas su que vous parlez français, ma chère fille. Où l'avez-vous appris ? C'est une belle langue, oui?

[sinistra]

It hurts.

[lupercus]

I'm waving my walking-stick around, if it helps any.

[sinistra]

You will be caned for that. Shall I order the martinis.

[lupercus]

Only if they arrive on the backs of house-elves that have walked from Paris.

[divineparvati]

What did he say, Professor!

[divineparvati]

Uh, what? Hahaha! Translate! Parlez vous Francais NON.

[lupercus]

It's not something I like to repeat in polite company, Parvati.

[divineparvati]

I never said I was polite.

[lupercus]

I am!

[divineparvati]

How do you ever live with yourself! I feel for you, Professor.

[lupercus]

It's a constant struggle. I am shunned for it, every day.

[divineparvati]

Judging this conversation, we both really need to get out more.