Hi everyone. Here is my new story "We were staying in Paris". Again, it is a Hermione and Draco love story. Leave me a comment with what you think of Chapter One, and if you hadn't gassed by now, Paris is my favourite city in the world. From my first steps in that wonderful city, I fell in love. Love, as always, .Granger12 xoxo
Paris. There really was no greater place to be in. The art, the culture, the history and the romance made Hermione feel at home. This was the city she was supposed to be in. She had been living here for just over six years, six wonderful years. Although she did miss her friends, Hermione was able to, experience a sense of freedom that she hasn't felt since before the War.
After the War, Hermione entered into a tentative relationship with Ron Weasley. Despite their extensive history and all the trials and tribulations they went through during their year defeating Voldemort, there was just no romantic spark between them. It wasn't for lack of trying from either party, but by the end of it, they had decided that there were no hard feelings, they were simply better off as friends. She kept in touch with Ron and Harry via owl and visited England as often as she could, but there was nothing to draw her back. Her parents had died in Australia before she had the chance to reverse their memories, somehow the Death Eaters had tracked them down and murdered them whilst they slept. So as soon as her relationship with Ron was over, Hermione packed a bag, bought an apartment in the city and moved to France.
Over here she was normal, occasionally she was noticed and people pestered her for details about Harry and their adventures, but for the most part she was left alone. Being alone didn't bother her. Harry was married to Ginny and Ron had recently married Padma Patil and she was incredibly happy for them. However at both celebrations, she had been quizzed endlessly on when she was going to enter a relationship or when she was going to get married or she was lectured about how she had better get a move on with her love life or she'll be wasting time. Hermione simply told them that she had no immediate plans for a relationship nor did she feel the desire to get married and she certainly wasn't wasting time, Hermione was a young woman running a successful combination of muggle and magical literature bookshop and that was enough for now.
Although Hermione would be lying if she didn't admit that it would be nice to come home and have another person in the apartment rather than just her cat. These feelings usually came arbour during the winter when it was either raining or snowing so all she could do was snuggle up on the sofa under a blanket and read a book or watch a movie. However, during every other season, Hermione would stroll through the streets, visiting both well and lesser known monuments or sitting in a café, reading a book or watching the world go by.
"Aren't you lonely 'Mione?" Ron asked her one evening.
Hermione had made the journey over to England to celebrate her godson, James Potters' third birthday. Although it was always at this point, after a few glasses of firewhiskey was consumed, that she wished this as just been a day trip.
"No. I'm not lonely Ronald." Hermione said, smiling kindly at her friend.
"You must have been on a date?" Ginny chimed in.
Nosey Weasley's Hermione thought to herself. Yes she bad been on dates but there was always something missing, a feeling. That feeling you get as a shiver down your spine when the other person touches you. The feeling like you are unable to draw breath while the other person is holding you in their arms. The feeling of contentment in silence as you walk hand in hand through the streets or simply lying in bed together, revealing in one another company. Hermione knew that she would experience the same love and joy as her friends, but she wasn't going to actively pursue it.
"Don't worry." Padma Patil said, smiling at her as she sat next to Ron. "These things happen when we least expect them and at the right time."
The right time, who knew when that would be? For now, Hermione was enjoying her life sway from England and the spotlight on the "Golden Trio", she was happy existing in her own little paradise. Her bookshop was actually quite a success. The front section was devoted to muggle books spanning across all different genres and she took great pride in herself for sourcing as many early additions as possible. The back section, behind a magically enchanted door, was the magical section. There she had stocked up on all the books she had used throughout her schooling career, books on defence, on History of the Wizarding World. As many books as she could think of. This was her home, surrounded by books, a place where Hermione could be herself.
Draco too, unbeknownst to the Wizarding community, had taken up residence in Paris. Many people had assumed that he had killed himself with shame of his actions during the War or that he sat in Malfoy Manor like some gargoyle, glaring at the people below him. The truth, however, was far less exciting. After the Battle of Hogwarts, his Father had testified against their fellow Death Eaters in exchange for the Malfoy Family's freedom, an easy choice but a choice that made them outsiders within their own pureblood community. Unable to escape what he had done and unable to face his parents as they were a constant reminder of everything that had gone wrong with his life, Draco had simply packed up all of his worldly possessions and departed Malfoy Manor in the dead of night.
His Mother had stopped him briefly on his way out, handing him a key to a small apartment she had bought as a safe house in case their allegiance with Voldemort didn't go according to Lucius' plan. The apartment was in Paris and the best part was, his Father knew nothing about it. With one final kiss goodbye from his Mother, he left the dreary Manor and set out to make a new life for himself. He had been living here for five years and there was not a single moment of regret.
For the first few weeks, he kept himself hidden, trying to adjust to this new sense of freedom. He could no longer hear the incoherent ramblings of his Father through the corridors and his Mother didn't haunt the rooms like an unwanted spectre. For the first time in his life, he was alone and he was his own man.
After he acclimatised to his new lifestyle, Draco found that he was a rather talented artist. He would often spend hours sitting, looking at the scenery and just painting. He was able to explore a whole new range of colours. For all of his life, he could only see in black, but now that he was in Paris, his life had exploded with colours. Reds, greens, blues, yellows, they all had managed to creep their way into his everyday life. It was like he had been blind, but now he could see.
Draco could honestly say that there was not one aspect of his former life that he missed. His choices were made for him. He never would have chosen to let the Death Eaters into the castle, he never would have tried to murder Professor Dumbledore and he never would have had any allegiance to Voldemort. He had to remind himself every so often that he was now the master of his own destiny, he could make choices. He could choose who to spend his time with, he could choose what he wanted to do with his life, and he could choose who to love. Not that there had been anybody for him to get close to let alone love. He was Si only too afraid to let anybody get close to him, how could he explain his actions? He could barely carry the burden of his family, he had no desire to inflict that upon anybody else.
At his low points, the times when he had felt the most alone, he had gone out and sought company in the form of many one night stands, but once thru physical aspect was over and the sun had risen, Draco was once more alone. He had come to accept that the Malfoy name would die with him, he had no male relatives to carry on the name. He reasoned that after all the evil and darkness his name had caused, it was going to be best for the Wizarding world if the name Malfoy was nothing more than a word on the layers of a history book. This did not stop Draco from searching every day for that someone who he could totally give himself to.
This evening, Draco had decided to set up his canvas on Pont Alexander III facing over the bridge and up Avenue Winston Churchill. This was Draco's favourite place to paint, the sky often turned pink as the sunset and the dark sky crept in and the lamps gave off this golden glow that reflected wonderfully off the Seine River. There were always couples here. Young couples, old couples, same sex couples, magical couples and muggle couples. They all shared the same look of awe, content and love and it was these looks that Draco loved to paint the most. He was dressed in dark blue jeans, a white button shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a black waistcoat that was open at the front and a cap as so avoid recognition, after all, who expected to see Draco Malfoy dressed so casually and painting. It was then that Draco noticed the most incredible silhouette of a woman looking longingly out across the water and without a moments rely, he picked up his brush and began to paint.
"Who is she?" Draco whispered to himself as his hand worked furiously, trying to capture her image before she moved. Whoever this woman was, he knew that this is who he had been waiting for.
The sun had started to set as Hermione sold her last book for the day and locked up her shop. She was quite lucky to be able to get a small shop in a laneway off the Champs-Élysées. It was her favourite place to walk in Paris. There was always people bustling about, both locals and tourists, there was the Arc de Triomphe at one end and at the other was a huge Ferris wheel with trees covered in lights the whole way in between.
So she could enjoy the night mire, as it was Autumn with Winter quickly approaching, Hermione made to walk down Pont Alexander III. It was breathtaking to be able to look at the river below as the sky changed colours and the stars made their appearance. She stopped about half way down and leaned against the marble railing, looking out at the scenery in front of her. She couldn't help but feel a twang of jealousy towards Harry and Ron, what she would give to be able to share this moment with someone. As she looked around, she was reminded of her favourite Les Misérables quote by Victor Hugo, "To love another person is to see the face of God." Everyone wanted to be loved. It was Hermione's firm belief that everyone had another half out there, like two people each had one half of the same soul and all they were doing was stumbling in the dark until they found their missing half. She looked around and saw people walking hand in hand, families taking pictures and a lone artist painting the scene before them. With a final sigh, Hermione tore herself away and continued her journey home.
Draco had just finished painting the mysterious women when she started to walk away. He wasn't sure what made him do it, but he quickly packed up all of his things and made a run for it after her. Draco couldn't explain it, but he had to talk to her, he had to know her name. He had only seen her silhouette against the fading pink sky and the golden lamps but she had awakened something in him that he didn't know he had. This could be her, the woman he had been waiting for.
With a gentle hand he reached out and grabbed her arm. "Excuse me?" Draco, said, his heart hammering against his ribcage. When the woman turned around, he saw familiar brown eyes mirroring his shock.
"Granger?"
"Malfoy?"