Harry held the small candy in his hand as he sat on the Hogwarts Express. Butterscotch.
He thought back to how his love for them started. He was six, maybe seven at the time. The Dursley's had been forced to take him with them to London. Mrs. Figg was unavailable and some of the neighbors had seemed suspicious. So his aunt had relented and forced him from his cupboard, dressed him surprisingly well and told him to get in the car.
He was actually excited at the time, he thought he was being included. But she was only really putting on a show for the neighborhood gossip.
His excitement had dwindled as they drove and by the time they'd reached London. There was nothing left of it. His aunt had forced him to wait outside of the stores they'd visited. It was winter.
She done the same when they'd stopped somewhere to eat.
He was miserable.
While he rested against the wall, nearby the entrance to Harrods.
est-ce que tu vas bien?
Harry looked up, it was an angel with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.
"I'm sorry?"
est-ce que tu vas bien? she asked again.
Harry shook his head in confusion, not realizing he was also answering her question.
The angel frowned, before her eyes widened, as if a light bulb had gone off.
She rummaged in her pockets and handed him a sweet?
"Caramel au beurre," she said before frowning again. "Hmm, butterscotch." She added, this time surprisingly in English.
"Fleur!" a man called from nearby.
The angel startled and apologized quickly before waving and running off. Leaving Harry with a little candy in his hand.