After the carriage came to a stop, the student leading the way led the four through a long corridor paved with polished marble, finally arriving at a spacious and luxurious reception room.
The door was gently pushed open, and Madame Maxime was sitting in an armchair covered with royal blue velvet.
She was tall and wore a well-tailored burgundy silk dress, with a pearl necklace adorning her neck.
She exuded an air of elegance, and the air was filled with a rich and sophisticated French perfume scent.
Upon seeing the group enter, the school janitor from Beauxbatons bowed and withdrew from the hall. Madame Maxime looked at them with the authority of a school principal.
Draco stepped forward first, without the slightest hesitation, and bowed in a standard French greeting.
He then began speaking in perfect, fluent, and elegant standard French, with just the right amount of enthusiasm.
"Your Excellency Madame Maxime, it is an honor to receive you. The moment I stepped into Beauxbatons, I was deeply impressed by everything here."
The moment Madame Maxime heard Draco speak, her eyes flickered slightly, and a hint of surprise appeared in her previously somewhat distant gaze.
She had assumed that the Pure-blood aristocrats from Britain could only communicate in French at a very basic level.
Unexpectedly, Draco's French was so standard and fluent, with a genuine Paris accent.
This level of language proficiency made her feel that Draco had genuinely studied France culture.
She felt a sense of approval towards him, recognizing him as a well-mannered aristocratic young man who understood how to respect other cultures.
The other three were the same; upon hearing this authentic Paris French, Hermione was stunned.
She had no idea that Draco's French was so fluent and standard, completely lacking the awkwardness that often comes with Britain speaking foreign languages.
A smile of approval immediately flashed in Pheobe's eyes; she was quite satisfied with Draco's performance.
She knew that Pure-blood nobles were multilingual, but she never expected Draco's French to be so fluent, even his grasp of the subtle nuances of French praise was impeccable.
Gabrielle, standing next to her, stared wide-eyed, her mouth slightly agape, her face filled with astonishment.
He tugged at Pheobe's sleeve and shook it gently, muttering softly in French, " Draco speaks French so well, just like us!"
As she spoke, her little face was filled with admiration.
After the polite exchange, Draco continued:
"Your living room is truly tasteful. The silk curtains with their gilded patterns are of superb quality, and the color scheme makes the whole room look luxurious and elegant."
"These must have been personally selected by you, right? And this marble floor, with its delicate texture and mirror-like shine, exudes an elegant craftsmanship in every inch."
"Even the perfume in the air was chosen to perfectly match Beauxbatons ' style. Only someone with the deepest understanding of aesthetics and elegance could create such a space."
His French pronunciation of the rolled "r" and stress was flawless, as if he were a France.
His words were full of praise for Beauxbatons, and even more so for Madame Maxime's personal taste.
Hermione listened to his earnest flattery and a subtle, amused smile crept onto her lips.
Thinking to herself, "As expected of Draco, his social skills are truly masterful." Hermione also had to admit that his French was indeed surprising.
Finally Draco added with a smile:
"Everyone says you are the most elegant principal in Europe, but meeting you today, I realize that the rumors are far from the truth. Your elegance and taste are unmatched."
Upon hearing this, Madame Maxime's lips gradually relaxed, and her previously stern expression softened considerably.
A clear sense of pleasure and enjoyment flashed in his eyes. Every word of praise precisely hit the mark regarding her taste and status, making her feel incredibly comfortable.
She straightened her skirt and responded in equally elegant French, her tone no longer carrying the aloofness of their first meeting:
" Mr. Malfoy, you flatter me. It seems you truly have a unique understanding and appreciation for the elegance of France culture; you've certainly noticed the attention to detail in Beauxbatons."
Clearly, Draco's fluent French and precise flattery completely pleased her.
She not only felt that Draco respected her and Beauxbatons immensely, but also that he had good taste.
Unlike those crude Britain wizards, my feelings of goodwill and approval towards him instantly surged.
Then Madame Maxime gestured for the school janitor beside her to come forward. "Prepare a guide for Mr. Malfoy and his friends, and give them a good tour of the campus. The Nicolas Flamel Fountain and the Conservatory Garden are both worth seeing."
The school janitor bowed and agreed, then stepped aside to wait.
Draco nodded slightly and politely thanked her in French: "Thank you very much for your generosity, madam. This will certainly be an unforgettable visit."
Madame Maxime picked up her crystal glass, took a sip of champagne, and looked at Draco, saying:
" Mr. Malfoy, I've heard that your father, Lucius Malfoy, was also a wizard of exceptional taste, and the Malfoy family's collection is renowned throughout the Wizarding World."
"Madam, you flatter me. My father is indeed a passionate collector of rare items and has a deep interest in magical creatures and antique artifacts. If you are interested, I will certainly invite you to visit Malfoy Manor when you visit Britain someday."
Draco just mentioned it casually.
A hint of interest flashed in Madame Maxime's eyes, and she nodded. "That's a good suggestion; perhaps there will be an opportunity in the future."
After saying that, she waved her hand.
"Go ahead and enjoy the campus scenery, but remember, do not trespass into teaching areas or dormitories. The rules of Beauxbatons must be followed."
"As you command, madam," Draco replied.
Afterwards, the group followed the school janitor out of the reception room.
Gabrielle ran ahead as soon as she stepped outside, grabbing the school janitor and asking for directions to the fountain. Pheobe called out helplessly, " Gabrielle, slow down!" and quickly followed.
The two lagged behind the group, walking slowly along the path covered with fine grass, surrounded by magical flowers swaying gently in the breeze, with the distant fountain tinkling softly.
Hermione glanced sideways at the triumphant Draco beside her and said with considerable surprise:
"I really didn't expect that you could make even Madame Maxime so happy. Now that I think about it, it's not surprising that Dumbledore never gets angry when you call him 'Old Dumbledore' in private."
"Of course, look who you are—your husband is quite capable, he can charm anyone," Draco said narcissistically.
Hermione blushed, lightly punched Draco's arm, and glanced nervously at Pheobe and Gabrielle not far ahead, afraid of being overheard.
"What... what nonsense are you talking about! Husband... this is a magic school!"
Gabrielle stopped and turned to wave at them, " Draco, Hermione, hurry up! The janitor said the fountain is just ahead!"