Severus glances at Albus, and shrugs. He can read them, and has enough dog-latin for spell-invention purposes, but to speak? He had enough trouble developing an educated accent in his own language, and had never had any intention of opening himself to be sneered at by French wizards, as well. Besides, everything he's needed from France so far was on paper, and everything from Italy on scrolls. "Moi, je ne parle pas," he shrugs. "Parlez-vous la chinois?" Now, that, he does speak. Eastern medicine had fascinated him since he was eight, and Eileen had shown him their much more extensive history of... brewing related activity.
Wait. What had he just....? Ah. No good anyway, then.