When Maria mentioned seeing more of his world, he paused for a moment. Maybe the nicer parts, sure, but he was not blessed with the romantic family upbringing outside of where she’s seen. Old Town London and Lisbon were fine, but his world was Mozambique and South Africa. And neither of the places were exactly friendly toward interracial couples. “Someday,” he replied diplomatically. He was aware Maria knew little of the tensions and struggles that were in place in those countries specifically. Even if she had worked with them directly as a translator, they would have shown her the white-washed side of it all. Or, at least, not trusted her as a woman to know the harsher truths. That was just how some nations were, even today.
Blaise watched the streets across the way for a moment. A glint in the other bridge told him that the photographers were ready, and he took a deep, steadying breath. It was show time. From here on out, this would be photographed. And he best not manage to now mess it all up after everything. But he smiled well past that fear and down at Maria. “I keep thinking about how different everything is now compared to when we got together. And for a while I think I was worried that it was just the way things were that made us work.” He was vague, of course. They were in the middle of the Muggle world and he was a Ministry official.
“I’m glad I was wrong. And that this has only gotten better since then. I’m naturally a pessimist, so saying better than I imagined goes without saying. All the same,” he paused and looked down at her. “I don’t think I’d rather be here with anyone else.”