Bonjour everyone! Here is Chapter 3. Enjoy reading and keep reviewing. I like to listen to music as I write, here is the link to what I have had on repeat while I write /f6MinONmdX0 . Love always xo

Hermione was woken by the morning sun creeping through a slit in the curtains. She wrapped the quilt tighter around herself, not quite ready to wake up and face the day yet. It was then that she realised she wasn't in her own bed, the quilt smelled like mems cologne and sex. Hermione's eyes cracked open and observed her surroundings. This was definitely not her bedroom. Then it all came rushing back to her. She had gone home with Draco Malfoy and they had shared one of the mist intimate and sensual experiences of her life. Every time she blinked she would get flashes of what happened last night. The lighting. Draco's hand in hers, their fingers intertwined. The feeling of him on top of her. His smell and the sound of his voice whispering in her ear. Hermione turned her head in expectation of seeing a sleeping Draco, however she was surprised to find herself alone.

Last night had been one of the most incredible experiences of her life, being that intimate with a man was something completely foreign to her. Of course she had had sex before, but this was something different, something more like two people making love. In their passion Hermione felt like every time he touched her, her skin would tingle, almost like electricity flowed between them. Her body naturally reacted to his every touch and movement, their bodies were so in tune it was almost like they were two halves of the same whole. Hermione felt herself blush. She had never thought of herself as a sensual being, but last night had awakened something that had been lurking deep within her.

Hermione spied Draco's white fluffy dressing gown hanging over the back of a chair and put it on, inhaling his inebriating aroma. She walked out into the living room, half expecting to see him sitting at the window painting the rain soaked street below, but he wasn't there. Hermione walked through every room in his apartment but there was no trace of him. She looked over at the clock, it was only six o'clock, so she selected a book from his bookshelf, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and curled up in the same spot on the sofa she sat last night and decided to wait for him to come back before she had to leave for work. Hermione loved reading the Hunchback of Notre Dame, how Victor Hugo's use of contrast in love versus lust and fate versus free will showed the dual nature of the central characters. Hermione wondered if the same dual natures applied to her and Draco. Was what they did last night an act of love or was it lust? Had fate brought them together in this city or was their interaction of their own free will?

Before Hermione could think any further on her internal dilemma, Draco entered the apartment carrying two coffees and a selection of pastries. "Morning." He smiled at her, handing her a coffee and summoning over a plate.

"Morning." She replied, her face turning slightly pink.

"I was hoping to be back before you woke." Draco told her, sitting down opposite her. "I'm embarrassed to say that I had nothing in the fridge."

"That's alright." She said, "I hope you don't mind me wearing your robe."

"Not at all." Draco said, reaching for a sketchbook and a piece of charcoal so he could once again draw her.

When doing portraits, Draco preferred to use charcoal, he felt it was instantly alterable and gave him the ability to create a certain depth that paint could not achieve. To Draco, she looked absolutely stunning. As he drew the outline of her body, Draco kept getting flashbacks to last night. How her body melted under his touch and his she called out his name in their passion. He found she was incredibly easy to sketch, the way her hair fell and the natural curves on her body were ideal. They sat in silence as he did his work, the only sound was the charcoal scratching against the paper.

"Last night…" Hermione began, not quite sure where she was going.

"Last night was without a doubt, was one of the most incredible experiences of my life." Draco said, not breaking his concentration.

Hermione nodded in agreement, the world could have ended whilst she was in his arms and she would not have cared. Could this be what Padma was talking about? Was this the right time for her? "So what happens now?" she asked tentatively, bracing herself for a possible rejection.

Draco put down his almost finished sketch and moved to sit next to her. He took her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs across the top of them. "Last night, being with you, I felt things that I had no idea were possible." He said, staring deep into her hazel eyes. "Something brought us together at that exact moment in time. Something deep within me has changed and I don't want to get you go. So if you want to, let's see how this goes."

Hermione was surprised by his words, not because he had said them, but because they were exactly how she was feeling. Something had indeed brought them together and she did not want to lose him either. "Okay." She smiled. "Let's see how this goes."

After Hermione had left his apartment to go to work, Draco sat on the sofa, not quite believing what had unfolded over the last twelve hours. He had taken a chance and kissed her and she had accepted him for the man he now was. He had come to Paris to live out his days alone, content with watching others fall in lover, and now thanks to a painting and a chance encounter, perhaps falling in love could be a reality for him too.

Draco shook his head, he was being ridiculous. He had only been with the woman for twelve hours and he was already talking about love. It was absurd… or was it. When he woke up this morning, rather than the usual emptiness in his chest he felt hope and happiness. He never would have guessed in his wildest dreams that he would begin to feel this way about Hermione Granger. Draco slapped his face lightly in an effort to snap himself out of his stupor and collected his paints for the day and apparated to the Luxembourg Gardens to see what todays muse could be. He enjoyed painting in the gardens at this time of year, the yellows and burnt oranges were an amazing pallet for him to use. He spotted a group of friends sitting on the grass, talking about whatever took their fancy, and decided to set up there. As his brush started to slide across the canvas, he couldn't help but think back to his miserable life at Malfoy Manor.

"How could you be so stupid boy?" Lucius Malfoy hissed St his son, his Sixth Year Hogwarts results crumpled up in his fist. "Once again that fucking mudblood Granger girl has reigned supreme over you."

"She's better than me." Draco said, there was no point in denying the truth.

Lucius backhanded Draco across the face, his ring cutting Draco's lip. "She is NOT better than you! You are talentless and worthless!" The elder Malfoy roared at his son. "Your cowardly actions have brought enough shame upon our family and now once again the mudblood is top of the class. When it is her time, you shall be the one to end her."

Draco was horrified at his Father's words. He had been unable to murder his former Headmaster a few weeks ago and now he was expected to murder his classmate. He couldn't, and even if he tried, he was one hundred percent sure that Hermione Granger could stop him, with or without a wand.

Draco wanted to run. He wanted to run and never come back to this life. It wasn't him anymore. Je had started to stray from the ideologies his Mother and Father had been ingraining in him from the moment he was born. Hermione Granger WAS better than him and there was no shame in admitting it. However, Draco knew to keep his mouth shut and to go along with whatever was expected of him because he knew what was coming and it terrified him.

Fear had controlled his life for long enough. What had happened last night was proof that moving to Paris had been the right choice. He promised himself that he was not going to be afraid of what was happening with Hermione. In the space of a day she had created this ball of fire deep within his soul, a fire he hoped would never go out.

Hermione locked her shop door, thankful it was Friday as she had decided to give herself the weekend off, a great perk to owning your own business. She had been distracted all day. Twice she gave people the incorrect change and she nearly handed a muggle a complete guide to Transfiguration. She was being ridiculous, it was just one night… but it had been the one night where she had felt that spark of electricity and that feeling like she coiling breath around him. As Hermione turned to walk up the alley and onto the main road, she got the fright of her life as she turned and saw Draco leaning against a wall holding a bouquet of white roses and iris'.

"Oh sweet Merlin! You frightened me." She laughed, her hand clutching her heart.

"I'm sorry." He smiled, handing her the bouquet.

Together they walked hand in hand down the Champs-Elysées, the perfect picture of something budding. As they walked back across Pont Alexandre III, Hermione stopped them in the exact spot she stood last night. "I have something for you." She said, pulling a small box out of her purse.

Surprised, Draco took the box and opened it. "What is it?" he said as he saw the contents.

"It's called a Polaroid camera. It's a muggle thing." She explained, taking it from him. She lifted the camera up to her eye, pointed it at Draco and pressed a button. He was amazed to see little card instantaneously come out from it. He watched as Hermione shook the card before handing it to him. It was a photograph.

"They don't move." Draco noted, taking the camera back from her. "Why did you give this to me?"

"I saw all of your artwork last night." Hermione said as they resumed their stroll. "Art doesn't have to just be paintings or sketches, it can be photographs too. I noticed you haven't any photographs in your apartment."

Draco pulled away from Hermione, stood in front of her and took her photograph. "Well that's not true." He said grinning at her. "Now I have two."

O.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

It was getting late and for the second night in a row, Hermione Granger was going Tolstoy with Draco Malfoy. She had learnt more about him in the last twenty four hours than in their whole time in Hogwarts. "So do you see anybody from school?" she asked, already guessing his answer.

"No. They're either dead or still clinging to their twisted views." He told her, Pouring another glass of wine. "Let me guess, you still keep in touch with Potter and Weasley?"

"Yes, although I'm more of a fifth wheel now." She said, taking her glass. "Well they're both married and have Family's now so it's a little hard getting together." She explained seeing his confused expression.

"And you've never thought of having that?" Draco enquired.

"Oh of course I have." Hermione said, correcting herself. "It's their incessant questioning as to when I'm going to."

"And why haven't you?"

"This is going to sound silly." She said, her cheeks going pink. "I guess I've been waiting for that one person who will walk into my life and change everything in a heartbeat."

As Draco listened to her he had a vision of them in the future, married and surrounded by children. Having a wife and children was definitely something Draco had never considered, but if Hermione was right, he was sure that perhaps this was a future for them.

"What made you decide to become an artist?" Hermione asked, snapping Draco out from his fantasy.

"I dunno really." He said. "I saw a muggle doing it in the park one day and thought I could do it too. My earlier stuff was terrible, but being in this city and surrounded by all of these great masterpieces really inspired me. I could do something good with my hands."

Hermione placed her glass down and took his hand in hers and kissed his fingertips. These hands belonged to the boy who refused to kill his headmaster, they had created that wonderful painting that drew them together, and they created electricity across her body. These hands could possibly give her the world. Hermione stood up and pulled Draco towards his bedroom once more. They had made short work of their clothes, but Draco stopped her from removing their underwear, with the exception of her bra. She lay down on the bed, wondering what he was going to do.

He sat down on the bed next to her, holding one of the roses from her bouquet. Very lightly he traced her skin with the petals. Draco watched her as he moved the rose across her creamy skin, her chest started to heave and her nipples became perk as they were lightly touched, her eyes were closed and her hips slightly moved as he traced further down her body. He lightly teased across the hem of her underwear and gaining a small moan when he traced up and down her folds. He placed the rose on her bedside table and kissed her gently. He kissed his way along her collarbone and her neck before her rosy lips. She made to pull his underwear off.

"No."

It's not that Draco didn't want to have sex with her, there was nothing more he wanted to do than rip off their underwear and have her right now. But if they were going to start a relationship, he didn't want it to be on the foundation of physical intimacy. I stead, he lay down and pulled her so she was resting on his chest and he took her hand in his.

"Hermione, I've never felt like this before." Draco whispered.

"Me either." She whispered back.

As they lay there drifting into sleep, Hermione reminded herself of another Victor Hugo quite, "Life's great happiness is to be convinced we are loved." Perhaps it wouldn't take much convincing to fall in love with Draco Malfoy and for him to love her in return.