Disclaimer:I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter, I write for the soul purpose of learning and I don't have any rights to any part of this story.
Author's Note: Hello! I want to start this chapter with a thank you to the select few people who favourited and followed this story. I know the last chapter was very short and to be honest it was a struggle to get this one over 3k, but I did it (yay for me!). I hope you enjoy the 1st chapter, hopefully things won't move as fast as they did in the prologue, because reading it back I was just thinking: "wow, wow, slow down." So I did tried to make this more relaxed but it did not work and I'm sorry.
The first thing Hermione felt was a twist in her stomach and then the impact of hitting the hard ground. Hermione landed in a small enclosed fireplace, clouds of grey dust floating around her that breached her lungs and made her cough heavily when she breathed. Immediately a handsome young man with dark brown her stepped in front of the fireplace and flashed a bright smile at her.
"Ciao signorina, posso avere il tuo nome?" he questioned, looking down at the conjured clipboard, a small crease appearing in between his eyebrows whilst he tapped his pen impatiently. Hermione stuttered momentarily before producing her wand from inside her dusty cloak and casting a simple translation spell.
"Pretati."
"'ello Miss, may I have your name?" He repeated, offering her a strong hand so she could step out of the cramped fireplace.
"Mrs Weasley." She stated, shrinking her bags of luggage that remained stuck in the fireplace and putting it safely into her pocket. The man crossed something off the list and peered back up at her.
"Oh yes Mrs Weasley, 'ere is a muggle taxi driver waitin' for you outside, but first please go to the desk and register your wand." He informed her, giving a short, firm nod of his head in the direction of the front desk and walking briskly over to the fireplace next to her where a wheezing old man had appeared. She tugged her wand free from her jacket and ambled to the young lady talking to a man stood beside her.
"Mrs Weasley, please can I have your wand?" She tested a professional smile replacing the annoyed scowl on her face. Wordlessly, Hermione handed her the wand.
"10 and three quarters, vine wood and dragon heartstring." The receptionist noted, marking it down in the large book that lay in front of her and passed it back to Hermione. The girl looked at her with a pensive look before addressing her. "You're Hermione Weasley, you married Ron Weasley and Harry Potter's best friend." She gushed, her eyes widening in comprehension.
"Yes, I am." Hermione laughed, a great surge of pride flowing through her at the recognition. Finally, after a long conversation with the receptionist, she managed to slip away. She glanced around keenly to locate the barely noticeable exit, then straightened her back and began walking leisurely towards the door. She stopped and smiled as a middle aged lady swung open the door for her and continued out of the door, her heels no longer echoing around the grand marble room.
"Miss Weasley." A man in a torn jacket greeted her and nodded towards the taxi which was parked badly on the side of the crowded street. 'Clever' she thought, 'just the right place for the international floo office. Busy enough as not to be noticed but small enough to not bring as to not bring a muggle's interest to it.
"Actually it's Mrs Weasley." She explained politely opening the door for herself and clambering in. The taxi driver slid into the front seat and slammed the door shut.
"You 'ave no luggage?" he asked, straightening the wing mirror and turning round. Hermione's first reaction was to recoil as the stench of cigarettes and alcohol hit her but she stopped herself just in time and replied with a small shake of her head.
"I will 'ake you to the address that your boss sent me, it is already prepaid so you don't need to pay me, but you can if you want." He laughed, leaning forward to check there were no cars whizzing by before he pulled out into the oncoming traffic. After a few minutes of silence Hermione spoke up.
"I need to make a phone call, do you think it's alright if we take a detour down a quiet road so I can get out for a moment?" The driver's tired eyes met hers in the wing mirror and she shot him her most convincing smile.
"For you, anything. But please be quick I have another client in 20 minutes." He sighed, turning his steering wheel violently to the left so the car turned down a dingy desolate street. She eyed the street and ultimately decided that they were the only people around. Her heart was racing furiously as she violently shoved open her door and ran round to the driver's side, her wand firmly grasped in her strong hold. The taxi driver had an expression of pure terror on his face as she tried to yank the door open but eventually settled for a simple 'Deletrius'. She grabbed the trembling man by the collar and put the tip of her wand to his bald head.
"Obliviate." She whispered fiercely, watching intently as the man's eyes glazed over. She dropped his collar and fell to the ground in shock. What had she done? Used magic on an unsuspecting muggle. She was almost as bad as a death eater. Once she noticed that the man started to regain consciousness rubbed the side of her leg against the harsh gravel to add bleeding cuts to her pale skin and lay face down in the dirt.
"Miss are you alright?" The man asked in a panic, rushing over to her side a pulling her up so she was standing awkwardly. Hermione coughed, biting her lip subtly so it started bleeding.
"I am a fine, I'm fine." She reassured, pretending to hobble over to the pavement where she had thrown her bag. She smiled gratefully at him when he asked her over and over if he could assist her to the hospital but shook her head each time. Eventually the man left and as his car disappeared from the end of the deserted street Hermione slammed her back against the wall, bringing a battered hand to her face. She knew there were other ways around that, she knew she could have just gone to the hotel and disapparated to Paris from there. And for the minutes, hours she had her back against the cold brick wall she could only really feel one thing: waves of raw guilt, clawing at her insides like a ruthless monster. She finally gathered herself enough to stop supporting herself against the wand and brandished her wand.
"Paris."
Hermione tumbled to the cobbled ground in front of Gladrags Wizardwear. She must of looked a right sight to be honest; dirt was plastered all over the side of her face, her hair was sticking up in every direction like she had got one of those muggle electric shocks and her legs were dusted with an array of cuts. She scrambled off the ground, tugging her suit jacket down so it covered the exposed flesh on her stomach. It was then she noticed the amount of people staring at her with disgruntled eyes. She patted down her hair and set off in search for a bed and breakfast, trying to ignore the variation of glances that were sent her way. "Great." She thought "So much for arriving in Paris undetected." A side alley opened up as she walked past clumsily, trying to avoid putting all her weight on one foot which had absorbed all the shock from her poorly calculated apparition. The alley seemed to be lined with bed and breakfasts, each contradicting their neighbour as they ranged from expensive to seedy looking. She turned down the alley, her eyes averted to the floor in a hope that maybe no one would recognise her. Afraid that she might get spotted, she turned in to the first Bed and breakfast, lifting her head up to see an expensive looking reception decorated with floating sculptures.
"Comment puis-je vous aider Madame?" A young girl asked, a professional smile that didn't quite reach her lips was fixed on her face. Hermione scowled when her she noted her translation spell had worn off and debated whether it was worth casting another one, but finally decided against it.
"Une chambre pour une s'il vous plaît." She requested quietly, staring at a vase of charmed flowers that released a puff of scent every few seconds. The girl took a key out from under the desk and placing it on the smooth counter.
"Lorsque vous souhaitez à la caisse s'il vous plaît venez à la réception avec votre clé. il est de 50 galleons une nuit." The receptionist clarified, pointing a well-manicured nail to a carpeted staircase. Hermione slipped the key into her hand with a gracious bob of her head.
After getting lost three times and bumping into 4 moody wizards, she at last found her suite. Well it wasn't really a suite, more like a luxurious apartment. The large windows that lit up the east side of her suite looked over the Eiffel tower and had been charmed to look frosty and as if snow was gathering on the window sill. The entrance hall ended at expansive living room decorated with cream sofas and rich chocolate carpets. Hermione let out an amazed breath as she resumed to the bedroom. She kicked off her heels and curled her feet into the ivory carpet, gawking at the lilac and silver drapes that concealed the windows. The bed, oh Merlin the bed. It looked so enticing to an exhausted Hermione and she ogled the silky lilac sheets that covered the thick mattress. She forced herself to carry on to the bathroom, trying not to let her mouth fall open again as her gaze settled on the large square bath that was settled by the frosted windows. Leaving the bathroom she sat down on one of the lilac chairs dotted around the room and un-shrunk her luggage. Retreating back to the sitting room, only sparing a fleeting look at the kitchen. She halted at the windows, finding a small handle, that when pushed, revealed a small balcony.
She stepped cautiously onto the balcony, a gust of wind ruffling her wild hair. Closing the door behind her, she scanned the muggle buildings down in front of her. She trod to the dark railing at the end of the balcony and tested it concluding that it was safe enough for her to put her weight on it. She wrapped her arms around herself and watched the Eiffel tower twinkle in the distance, lighting up the whole city. As she watched she had a sudden admiration for the men who built it. They built it without magic, no wands to levitate materials up, just pure hard work. No wizard has ever built anything like this by hand. Her thoughts slowly drifted away from the muggle landmark and towards a certain Malfoy. She just hoped that he was close by, Paris is a large city and she knew it would take months to find him. But she could do anything, she was Harry Potter's best friend.
The harsh light that peeked through Hermione's drapes are what woke her at such an early hour, making her eyes flutter open sleepily. With a muffled yawn and a stretch she flung her legs off the side of the bed and her feet searched clumsily for her pair of slippers. She sat there for a while, tilting her heads to look past the drapes to see the tall tower risen above all the other buildings, sparkling slightly as the morning sun reflected off it.
Her wand buzzed on the white bed side table, telling her that was 6 o'clock. She swiped her wand off the table and pushed herself reluctantly off the bed. She wandered groggily into the bath, pointing her wand at it and mumbling a quick "aguamenti" and a warming spell. She fumbled with the buttons on her top, finally managing to wrench it off along with her pyjama bottoms. She let out a content moan as she settled down in the bubbling bath, her head resting on the side of bath as her fingers swirled the piles of bubbles that was gathered around her. She let her eyes drift shut for a few silent moments only to be interrupted by a wilting sigh that left her lips. She had a job to do and that job funnily enough was not to relax in baths, however lavish they were. After a few more minutes relaxing in the water he hoisted herself out and grabbed a soft cotton towel and wrapped it tightly around herself.
Once she had managed to get dressed and eaten, Hermione sat down on the long mahogany table that was centred in the middle of the suite's dining room. Her books were splayed out around her in a messy circle. So far she had made a list of all the wizarding hotels in Paris, she had thought about including the muggle hotels but had remembered Malfoy's pureblood supremacy ideas and had ruled them out. She had then gone off to cross all the low budget hotels off the list, then the ones owned by muggle-borns; which left one hotel: 'Les Cinq Chaudrons', which was located a few hundred metres down the street.
"That wasn't too hard." She thought, a wave of pride washing through her as she realised that she would probably be the first to bring her task back. That's what he was, a task. She got up from the table and donned her black cloak, making sure to put the small suite key into her pocket.
She drew the hood of her cloak over her head as she rushed down the cobbled alley, blinking furiously at the slushy snowflakes that landed on her eyelashes. She turned into 'Les Cinq Chaudrons' not removing her cloak however as she didn't want to be seen. Quickly casting a translation charm, she walked up to the desk.
"I have come on behalf the British Ministry of Magic I need to look at your guest books please." She demanded, the hood falling in front of her eyes. The receptionist stuttered for a moment before handing over a thick guest book. Hermione flicked it open hastily and ran her finger along the line of names and dates. She produced a small piece of parchment which was covered with illegible squiggles that was the product of a short floo call with Harry. She searched the page for a check in date that matched when Malfoy was last seen in Paris, but there seemed to be no similarities between the two.
"Did you really have no check-ins on November the 27th?" She queried disbelievingly.
"Yes, it was a slow day." The receptionist insisted, grabbing the book from Hermione's hands. "Now if that is all you want, leave!" They demanded, waving a hand dismissively towards the door. Hermione huffed loudly, a sombre scowl fixed on to her lips. A wizarding couple entered arm in arm through the door, shooting Hermione a curious look which made her think it was time to leave. She turned and left through the closing door and on to the snow covered street.
Once back at her suite, she collapsed onto the dining table chair, her head facing towards the circles of books that concealed the table. That was the answer. Books! Ron had always said that when it doubt she should just turn to books, it's what she did best.
With an agitated groan she flopped her head on to the book that she had spent the last few hours reading. 'Merlin this is torturous.' She thought, rubbing gently at her temple at an attempt to ease the stress. 'There must be something that can help me.' She considered, knowing that her thoughts were taking a turn for desperation. She straightened her back with a crack and continued to flip through the pages idly until something caught her eye: "'Inveniet'; once said before the name of the person(s) whom the witch or wizard wishes to find will cast the person's location in the air." Hermione shot out of her seat with her wand clutched in her hand in front of her. "Invenient Draco Malfoy." She croaked, watching the wisps of light dance out of her wand and settle in the air in the form of an address.
Several minutes later she was strolling briskly down a cobbled alley towards the centre of Paris, her brown coat tucked firmly around her to fight the wind that was blowing harshly and propelling her hair out in a strands behind her. She had to stop several times to refrain herself from slipping whenever her boot came in to contact with a large layer of ice that covered the cobbles and had hoped that the dusty blush on her face would be mistaken for effects of the cold. The crease between her eyebrows came more prominent as she got further and further away from the wizarding part of Paris and in to muggle Paris. Not that Hermione was complaining of course, she loved muggle Paris; it reminded her of her parents and how they used to traipse around muggle Paris when she was a child. Jus the mere thought of her parents made her smile sadly and hope that wherever they were, they were safe.
She came to halt as she arrived outside a grand muggle hotel which looked on to the Eiffel tower which stood about half a kilometre away, twinkling lightly in the dark night sky. She sat down on a frosted bench and pulled a book out of her book as to not look suspicious to the on looking muggles. For hours she sat on that bench, her book held loosely in her grip as she observed passing by couples who were often closely entangled in a romantic embrace. Jealousy rippled through her as she watched and all she could think of was Ron, Ron who should be with her and holding her like all the others around her. Ron, who she should be kissing in front of the Eiffel tower along with hundreds of men and women congregated in bunches, laughing, smiling, and kissing. She ripped her gaze off the couples and back to the hotel where a blond crop of hair had emerged from the doors.
Note: Ok, I just wanted to say that you may think Hermione is a bit out of character and I promise you there is a reason for this I'm trying to do character development but I haven't fully got into it. I'm really sorry it was so short, I did try but then I got bored. Reviews are greatly appreciated, thanks. x
