Harry had settled into his chair and was left to look around at the muggles passing on the street just on the other side of the little dividing fence that separated the patio from the walk. He sat comfortably in the warm sun, enjoying his first visit to Spain and was eagerly looking forward to his father's return with the food he'd promised.
As he sat, he heard vaguely his father's voice and that of a woman... James spoke Spanish? He had no idea... he allowed himself to ignore the conversation, since he'd not bothered learning the language. His mind instead drifted to all the things he'd never known about his parents... all the little things that no amount of discussing and recounting memories from friends could have kept alive, no matter how complete the accounts. He wondered at how much better it was knowing his parents, even these younger versions, than simply hearing people discuss them.
Hearing the beers thump on the table woke him from his reverie with a bit of a start, his surprise only lasting a moment before a broad smile crossed his face. "So, exactly what is paella anyway, Dad?" he asked with a chuckle, taking his beer in hand and taking a long drink.