CHAPTER ONE – AN ENGLISH GIRL IN PARIS

"Un pain au chocolat, s'il vous plaît," Hermione Granger said, standing at the counter of her new favourite boulangerie in the fifth arrondissement of Paris. She liked this borough, the Quartier Latin. It was full of beautiful little bookshops, and she enjoyed constantly being surrounded by Parisian students who she saw each day sitting outside the cafés, eating lunch, drinking wine, and laughing together. These young people, just as thirsty for knowledge as she was, sometimes made her wish she could go to university with them as well. But she was quite certain that her degree from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wouldn't get her anywhere here. The language barrier, on the other hand, wouldn't have been a problem. Hermione spent about three hours every day sitting on her bed in her tiny apartment, studying French books, dictionaries and practicing her pronunciation. She also spent a large amount of her time working in a bookshop, so she was able to practice speaking French daily. She enjoyed her job a lot. Being surrounded by books calmed her down and made her feel right at home.

It was hard to believe that only two months had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts. It all felt so far away, like she had begun a completely new life from one day to the other. She hadn't spoken to anyone since she'd left for Paris about a month ago. She had originally wanted to take Ron with her, but he decided to stay with his family since they were going through a rough time. Fred's death had been particularly hard on the Weasley family and Hermione had understood that Ron wanted to stay with them. She did miss him, but she was glad she had decided to come here anyway. Ever since she was eleven years old, her life had been all about witchcraft and magic and figuring out all the mysteries that surrounded Hogwarts. Her life before that was nothing but a distant memory. She had put off seeing her parents, who didn't remember her. She just wanted to live a normal, muggle's life, at least for now. She enjoyed the anonymity. No one knew her here. No one knew she was a witch. And sometimes, Hermione forgot about that herself.

Her wand was stored in a small blue velvet box in her wardrobe, covered underneath a bunch of shirts. She hadn't used it at all since she came here. She wished sometimes that Ron could be here and see that life could be quite nice without magic, since that's all he'd ever known. She often picked up a pen and paper, wanting to write a letter to him, but it was hard for her to find the right words. It truly felt like she was in a different world now. Everything and everyone was far away. Including Ron.

She thanked the salesclerk – "Merci!" – and went outside, greeted by the warm sunlight. Quite a lot of people noticed her. People that might not have noticed her a couple of months ago. She had been inspired by the Parisian women and had actually taken an interest in fashion – something she'd never used to care about. But now she was wearing a beautiful white dress with pink flowers on it – which had cost her half a monthly wage –, her lips were bright red and her hair was curled. She even moved differently. More elegantly and gracefully. As she walked down the street and bit into her Saturday morning breakfast, she smiled to herself wondering what Ron would think if he saw her like this. At the corner of the street, a man from a foreign country asked her for directions. That man had actually thought she was from here. She smiled a little brighter as she carried on down the street. Yes. She had changed. But there was nothing wrong with that, was there!?

She sat down on a bench and watched the passers-by. She talked briefly to her new friend Guillaume, a young French student who worked part-time at the same bookshop as her.

"Bonjour. You look nice," he said in French.

Hermione smiled. "Thanks. What are you up to?" she replied, in French of course. She was proud of every single world she was able to understand and every single one that she was able to utter.

"I'm just on my way to the university. I have an exam coming up next week and I really need to catch up on some things."

She nodded, forging a smile. Hearing this made her miss school, and even exams.

"Listen," he said, "A friend of mine – he studied art and just graduated this year – is having his very first gallery opening this evening. Would you like to come?"

Hermione had previously told Guillaume that during her time in Paris she had noticed that she knew way too little about visual art.

"Yes, absolutely," she said.

"Great." He got a piece of paper out of his backpack and scribbled something on it. "This is the address. It starts at six."

"I'll be there," she said. Guillaume said goodbye and left Hermione twiddling with the piece of paper in her hand. She had been enthusiastic about the gallery opening a minute ago, but suddenly she was debating whether or not to go. Yes, she enjoyed the anonymity in the city. But it was right then that she realized she felt completely alone. Guillaume knew her as nothing more than the English girl who was spending the summer in Paris. He didn't know her, not really. No one here did. Hermione realized that she was alone, and she would still be alone if she was surrounded by all the other people who would attend the gallery opening.

The sun suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a large dark grey cloud. Confused about her own sudden change of disposition, she went straight home to her apartment. For the first time in a long time, she took the wand out of the blue velvet box. She looked at it as if she saw it for the first time. "Accio French books," she said and her own voice seemed foreign to her. The books flew towards her and she felt a slight pain as they hit the palm of her hand.

I can still do it, she thought. Thank God.

She didn't know why she thought she might have lost her abilities. Probably because she hadn't used them or even thought of using them for so long.

She put the books neatly back onto her nightstand. She picked up pen and paper and started writing.

Dear Ron,

I'm sorry it took so long for me to write to you. I was just trying to get away from everything. I've been having a really nice time here. I can already speak French quite well and I've met some nice people. I'm fairly quite certain that if you came here, you wouldn't recognize me. I'm actually wearing a dress with flowers on it this very moment, can you believe it!? I know. It's difficult to even imagine.

I hope your family is well, or at least as well as they can be, given the circumstances. Please send them my love, will you?

I miss you terribly. I don't know for how much longer I'll stay here.

Love

Hermione

She read the letter two more times before she put it in an envelope, put a stamp with the Eiffel tower on it and stuck it into a mailbox. She was hoping he would get it, since the Weasleys weren't used to getting anything other than owl post. But she wasn't worried. He'd get it. He had to get it.

She didn't go to the gallery opening that evening. She just sat on her tiny balcony, sipping on a glass of wine and watching the people outside. She knew that soon it would be time to leave. But not yet. She was not ready to leave the city behind, and she wasn't ready to let go of the girl she had become. The girl who knows her way around Paris. The girl who wears dresses with flowers on them. The girl who's more than just a book-smart geek.

The following week, Hermione focused purely on work. After her day at the bookshop was done, she went home to her apartment or offered to help dust the shelves. She no longer felt like taking long strolls around the city. She wanted to keep herself busy, and she wanted to do somethinguseful.

That Friday night, as she was sitting on her bed reading her first novel in French, she heard the buzz that she only heard when her landlord came by to remind her that she was late on rent. She'd paid in time this month, and she couldn't think of anyone else who it could be. She realized that none of her Parisian friends even knew her address.

She pressed on the button which opened the door of her building. She listened to the footsteps coming up the stairs and when her visitor finally reached her floor, Hermione's jaw dropped and she was speechless for a moment.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," George Weasley said with a grin on his face.