A/N: Hey all. Pardon the shorter length of this chapter. It's a bit transitional, but necessary. The next two chapters, the action picks up immensely and I really hope you like what goes down in Paris. Mainly a bit of vengeance, and more *connections*. As always, thanks for your feedback. You guys keep pointing out things I need to remember or elaborate on in the future, so thank you for that. Some things I won't be able to yet, they are part of the plot and won't be revealed until later. Also, this story is just shy of 500 followers and I'm kind of low key flipping out. *squeals* Much love XxX

Thank you to LeanaM for your insightfulness and helping me through each chapter. Tons of beta/alpha love!

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~oOo*oOo~

Outwardly, she appeared calm, but inside a maelstrom of turmoil raged under the surface.

Parvati had already left before Hermione was able to deliver the news.

It wasn't as if she'd ran out of time. Hermione had simply let the afternoon dwindle to nothing until the last possible moment before she had to get a move on. She clucked her tongue, sitting with her arms folded on her bed, and staring at the mess her roommate had left behind. She might have asked Parvati for permission to pilfer through her things, even though Parvati had previously given it. Still, it would have been proper etiquette to confirm she was still welcome to the discarded clothes lying in the corners of the room and under the bed.

She ran her fingers through her hair, before pulling it into a ponytail.

A ponytail, to Paris. That would be how she wore her hair for to the grandest event she'd ever been invited to. She clucked her tongue again.

If only she had the motivation to actually get up and do something, but she was so caught off guard by the absurdity of the situation, she could do nothing but sit frozen, suspended in some distant place between reality, dreams and nightmares.

He - Harry - had offered to protect her. He promised to take care of her on the trip, and see that she did not run into any issues...but how could he make such a promise? How could he ensure her safety? Even more perturbing, how could she have agreed? Well...in fairness, there had been the unusual floating sensation that she could only attribute to that kiss.

The kiss had been everything.

It was hot and hungry and soul-crushing.

Hermione didn't know kisses could be like that. The soft pads of her finger tips flew to her lips at the powerful memory. It was so strange, to feel the tingling even now, but it was as if he had imprinted on her. That was how intense, how invasive, it had been. For the hundredth time she wondered if she was exaggerating. The kiss could hardly be all of that. Despite her doubts and with them her assurances, Hermione knew the source of her riled feelings could be traced back to even before then. It was all the recent moments when Harry had done something to surprise her. There were truths she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt and yet, he had brought them all into question.

Harry was supposed to be her tormentor of sorts, a typical elite who cared for no one but himself. Since when did he intervene between her and a teacher...and even fellow classmates? Why had he started backing her up in class, and offering to tutor her because he saw potential? Her feelings were already in a whirlwind of unease, and then that kiss had disrupted any semblance of rationality all over again.

It was highly disconcerting.

Because through the mayhem of feelings, she had told him yes.

There was no turning back at this point. Hermione could not begin to anticipate what would await her on this trip. Things could always get worse, and maybe it was better for her to stay at the school with the evil she knew instead of the potential evil she didn't. But - ever the Gryffindor - she had always been somewhat of a risk-taker. It was true, that side had been dimmed a bit, but it was resurfacing...with a vengeance. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, it was thanks partly to him. Harry was largely to blame for some of her confidence returning, for this new feeling of comfort, and that she was starting to be herself around someone. It was for Harry that she had let her guard down.

Despite the fact that it could very well be another brilliantly devised plot on his behalf to humiliate her, she had a very strong sense that it wasn't. It was hard to explain where the confidence came from...her heart, maybe? But it was there and it was thriving and it was telling her that there were definite differences between this time and the last. Whether she allowed herself to or not, the trust between them was building. The shrewd, calculating part of her that doubted everything was shrinking. It was still there to stir up concern, but muted.

Her eyes fell to the discarded little black dress that lay beneath Parvati's bed. Could she even wear such a thing? It was so wholly different from anything she usually wore, she blushed just imagining putting it on. She needed something for tonight, the next night, and the next after that. She needed partywear, which she definitely lacked. She would just have to bring her regular clothes to lounge in, but there was no choice but to take Parvati's leftovers.

Jolted into action, she went to her closet and plucked an empty suitcase from the floor. She started throwing jeans and shirts and blouses along with any necessities she could fathom needing. She didn't even have any makeup! Hermione would have to face the crowd sans mask, as she didn't have any money to buy any, either. Traversing around the room, she collected three of the dresses Parvati had cast aside and some of her jewelry. She also nabbed a stray mascara tube and a pair of slinky black heels. Clicking the suitcase closed, she went to the stand-up mirror and stared at her gaunt features. She'd had very little sleep the night before, and no alone time to go over things with Harry.

What did one wear to Paris for a leisurely visit? Hermione opted to keep on her jeans and grabbed her nicest sweater—pewter grey with subtle lace edging on the hem and collar. She completed the outfit with a pair of tan ballet flats and told herself she was ready to go. Casting a last look at her vacated dorm, she made her way to the exit.

Harry was waiting for her in the common room.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Bright green eyes that could see far more than she felt comfortable with, sought out hers. Hermione bit her lip as she made her way down the stairs, slightly relieved to find they were alone.

"I was worried you wouldn't show." He frowned, as if the notion alone caused him grief.

She blinked in confusion. "It would be silly of me to turn down such a generous offer from a friend."

Harry smirked, and she fought to untangle herself from his uncharacteristically gentle stare.

"It would," he agreed.

He extended his hand to relieve her of her suitcase, and she let him. Without another word, he turned towards the exit and she followed resolutely behind. Hermione prepared herself for scathing remarks from her fellow students when they saw her and Gryffindor's Golden Boy together, but the corridor was glaringly empty. She tried to calm the thudding in her chest as they left the Gryffindor Landing and made their way to the Third Floor Corridor.

A normal girl would feel excitement at this point - not trepidation - but these weren't normal circumstances. She was equal parts concerned for her own well-being, and - to a degree - his. Harry had not been one to meet teasing at any point in his life. How would he react if the crowds inevitably turned on him? Perhaps he would not be so keen to offer his protection any longer. It wasn't easy to be a pariah.

He came to a halt in front of a large statue.

"Gunhilda of Gorsemoor," she noted, then turned to peer at him. "The secret passage to Honeydukes?"

He grinned slyly at her. "Someone has been reading their gift."

Hermione blushed at being caught, and nodded, thinking fondly of the book he'd so flippantly given her. There was so much more information in the older version than in the most recent text, which she had memorized.

"We need to be out of Hogwarts to use the portkey," he explained.

"Of course."

"Dissendium," he told the statue.

Hermione watched, wide-eyed as the hump of the witch opened up to reveal a tunnel. What a clever escape route, Hermione thought, chronicling the location for later use.

"After you." Harry gestured her forward.

It was a long walk to the cellar of Honeydukes, and they didn't speak much. The easiness that had developed between them since they'd started practicing seemed somewhat strained and she could only attribute it to the incident of the prior evening. Sexual tension, a voice sounding awfully like Parvati echoed in her head. Hermione swallowed thickly.

When they entered the cluttered cellar, Harry dangled his suitcase on his arm and collected something from his coat pocket. She craned her head to see the silver, sapphire eyed snake.

"The portkey." He extended his arm to link through hers, and she stepped awkwardly against her own suitcase he carried in his other hand. "Are you ready?"

She nodded and he brushed his fingers over the eye of the snake.

Hermione was suddenly caught up in a surge of energy, stretching one moment and shrinking the next. The sensation of nausea mixed with giddiness was highly uncomfortable, and just when she thought she may hurl all over Harry's expensive Burberry jacket, the feeling abruptly vanished, and he was steadying her on solid ground.

Disorientated, she looked around what appeared to be a lavishly decorated lobby.

Harry walked up to a gleaming marble desk and gave their suitcases over to the attendant before retrieving his wallet, leaving Hermione to gape at her surroundings.

It wasn't like any lobby she had seen. The space was wide open, and so vast, it looked like you could fit an entire village square inside. It was bathed in hues of white, gold, and green. There was a giant tree with numerous branches that served as quaint staircases leading to all the different stories, so many she couldn't even count them in one glance. The wood was decorated with white flowers and shimmering green leaves, interrupted at some points along the way by various shops and restaurants. The ceiling was so high above her head, Hermione could scarcely see it if not for the numerous chandeliers dripping with crystals that lit up entire interior. Her previously building dread gave way to undeniable excitement. How she loved magic.

Harry came back to where she stood and dangled two golden necklaces with a glowing crystal attached to it. "I've got our key." He inclined his head to the numerous fireplaces - more dazzling than any she had seen previously - lining the lobby. "Let's see if the accommodations are to your liking."

Hermione bit back a snort. As if they could be anything but. "Aren't we going to take the stairs?" Her eyes roved over them again, delighting in the romantic picture the maze of luxurious shops dotting the stair-branches around the massive tree actually was.

"Would be a long walk." He craned his head. "I think it's more for looks than anything else."

Hermione pursed her lip. She didn't mind the walk.

"I'll make dinner arrangements in one of the shops and you can explore then, okay?"

Too perfect! The snide part of her warned. This didn't happen in real life, at least...not to her. Even with the reality check, she couldn't help but feel excitement.

No longer burdened with their luggage, Harry placed his hand on the small of her back and led them to the nearest Floo. Her stomach flipped at the simple contact.

"Room 705," he enunciated as they stepped into the hearth.

It was the first time Hermione had experienced this form of travel. The cool, green flames engulfed them before delivering them seconds later into another lobby.

"Now where are we?" She stepped out of the marble hearth and looked around at the various levels in this room. There was a courtyard in the center with a cluster of shimmering gold and green trees. The room was glaringly white, with cleverly accented decorations adorning it. The numerous chairs looked soft to the touch. Her ballet flats sank into the plush carpet.

"This is our room."

Her eyes widened. How in the name of Merlin could so much space be allotted to them? Another scan around the room revealed an expansive balcony with a view that upon closer inspection, revealed a rainforest. It looked nothing like what she would expect Paris to look like on the outside. It had to be a mirage. A beautiful white cockatoo flew into the open door of the balcony, effectively shattering that deduction.

"How is there a rainforest out our balcony?"

Harry strode over to where their suitcases were already waiting for them on a table. "Spectral Space Shifting Charm." He brought the suitcases to a large, white canopied bed she hadn't noticed before, two stairs up from the floor she stood on. Her throat went dry. Merlin, would they be sharing? Though, she supposed her entire dorm could share that bed and still boast of space. Vines adorned with large, glittering flowers opened and closed leisurely. "That bit of magic is highly difficult to perform, and illegal without a permit, but I suppose Seasons Plaza Hotel spares no expense."

"No." She let her eyes wander around the room, widening even more when she discovered the bathroom. The bath - if it could be called that - looked like a hot spring out in the middle of a jungle. The water was a dazzling deep blue and the bath was surrounded by lush plants and flowers. The bathroom sink was as long as their potions classroom, and there was a separate sitting room inside. "I never knew you could do so much with magic."

"Possibilities are unlimited." He darted a glance around the room, taking in the ethereal beauty for himself. As she had expected, he didn't seem as impressed as she was. "Want to freshen up and explore? We have some time before tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Everyone is meeting at Le Château at eleven."

Worry sparked through her at the mention of her classmates. She'd been so awestruck by her surroundings, she'd almost forgotten they had made the journey to this little slice of heaven right along with her. "Oh." She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. "Yeah...that sounds lovely."

His resultant smile seemed strained. Hermione forced herself to focus on the positive, of which there was an abundance of. Hopefully when it came time to go to the club that night, it would be dark and swarming with people. Maybe she could lose herself in the crowd and - dare she hope? - go unnoticed.

~oOo*oOo~

With the most beautiful symphony he'd ever heard wafting through the air, Harry could almost imagine he was safe, just a regular wizard enjoying his - honeymoon, maybe? - with his witch. The hotel had exceeded his expectations. Malfoy has outdone himself, he thought begrudgingly. He hadn't even experienced such luxury as an adult when he was with Ginny.

Below the golden stair-branch they found themselves on, he'd spotted Derick and a cluster of Hufflepuffs from the Quidditch team heading into a chocolate store that boasted of the most expansive array of liquor fillings in all of Europe. He decided to avoid going down there, so he and Hermione went up the branches, stopping in front of an eaterie.

Wanting a quick snack, they went all the way through the restaurant and back out the other side to the outdoor seating. The tables and chairs appeared to be almost suspended in air. Low leaves dotted with fairy lights made up the ceiling. They took a table far out on the clear platform with a view of the massive courtyard and lobby below. He ordered a scone and coffee and Hermione got a fruit tart and cappuccino.

He tried his best to make her feel comfortable, but he suspected she was on her guard more than usual. It was frustrating to have broken through the wall she'd built only to have her erect another soon after. Harry knew she critiqued his every move, and so he resisted initiating physical contact, hoping she would not see him as a threat again and come to trust him.

The late lunch was a quiet affair, but Harry had been busy thinking up things they could do or talk about, so he was ready when they went back to the maze of branches.

"I've thought about training to be an architect," he told her, as they came to another turn. "To create places for people to go...like this...just seems like fulfilling work." He chanced a glance at her to find her eyes already on him and interested. "And a challenge."

"I didn't even know there were careers like this in the magical world." She curled her hand around the branch railing and stepped out onto a flat, stairless path. "They never talk about these jobs at school."

"Yeah. It's always the Ministry or Care of Magical Creatures or Curse-Breaking, but there are so many other things."

"I'm beginning to see that."

He adapted an expression of nonchalance. "What about you?"

She tightened her ponytail. "Whatever I can do, I guess."

"If you could do anything."

He felt her eyes examining him as he looked straight ahead.

"I suppose...I've always liked Arithmancy. Numbers and Runes and calculations are just so perfect because there is always an answer no matter how difficult the question." She tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "It's nowhere near as creative as, say, architecture, but I could get lost in a complicated problem."

He frowned. "Arithmancers need to be creative too." He was pleased to find she was listening attentively and some of the tension had left her face. "You have to come up with a creative approach to solve a difficult problem, and with the answers, you can make brilliant deductions. You can even invent your own spells, charms, and the like."

Smiling, she nodded her head quickly. "Exactly, and I do love trying to think up spells. I often wonder which subjects I can combine so I can come up with something no one's thought of before. Merging Runes and Arithmancy with Charms produces the most powerful spells. Though I haven't really found suitable text on it at Hogwarts."

"You're definitely right." He shot her a wry smirk. "Take the Spectral Space Shifting Charm—that's at least five branches." He thought back to his previous life, and his chosen field of work there. "Yeah...I have no taste for Ministry politics or policing other wizards. I'd rather get to create something new and exciting."

"No Auror life for you, then." She grinned teasingly.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, content to see her warming up to him again. Hermione needed a positive experience in the midst of so much negativity. Maybe this weekend could be...maybe he could do that for her.

"How about this store?" Harry pointed to another intricately designed building, only accessible by floating slabs of white stone.

"A boutique?" She wrinkled her nose, unconvinced.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Why not?" he said hazarded. "Wouldn't it be nice to get something from here, so different from the things we have back home?"

They began traversing the stones and entered through the sleek archway.

"It's couture," she whispered to him once they stepped in further, her eyes scanning the various dress robes and gowns.

He suppressed a laugh. "So? You should try something on."

Spurred by his prodding, Hermione allowed the blond witch with the thick French accent to measure her with her wand and pull various dresses out for her. Harry sat down patiently in a chair, and gave her an encouraging smile. He prayed to Merlin she would actually let him get something for her. He could think of no better way to spend his Galleons.

Everything she tried seemed overly done up and way out of character. She was a good sport and modeled them anyway, but he could tell they were things she'd never wear in public. There wasn't much that seemed to be her style.

"How about this one here?" The boutique clerk held up a little, pale blue dress. "Refined elegance. Silk. It will be a perfect fit, I think."

Hermione eyed the dress dubiously, taking notice of the much shorter hem.

"She says it would be a perfect fit," Harry teased. "Try it."

Her cheeks dimpled, and Harry knew she was trying not to smile. "Alright. But this is the last one."

Harry drummed his fingers against his dress pants as he waited, all the while making vague plans in his head on how to navigate through the difficult weekend. It was a dangerous line he was walking, but for the first time he was beginning to believe he could actually make this a memorable time for them both. They had everything they needed to ensure an enjoyable weekend, they just had to be sure to avoid certain people.

Once he heard the door of the changing room open, he looked up. He froze.

Hermione was wearing the pale blue number, and it fit her like a glove. The thin straps on the shoulders bared her arms and delectable neck to him. The flowing silk shifted as she walked, hugging each and every curve he had been forcing himself not to think about since losing some of his control the day before. His tongue darted out over his bottom lip. The dress fell to mid-thigh - distractingly short - and he couldn't help but sneak a look at her legs, so toned, tanned, and gorgeous.

He forced himself to look her in the eye and not at her body. She was gnawing on her lip like she did when she was nervous, her eyes impossibly wide and - his heart clenched - insecure.

"You should get it," he rushed out, wincing at the rough sound of his voice.

She blanched. "I'm not sure…" She trailed off uncertainly, looking like she wanted to rip the dress off and put her normal clothes back on.

"Perfect fit, like I said," the clerk couldn't help but chime in. "If you buy it, I can arrange a beauty treatment at the salon, free of charge."

"How much is it?" Hermione asked, alarmed by the generous offer that came with buying the dress.

"Eight hundred Galleons."

"Eight hundred Galleons!" She stiffened, glancing down the dress to make sure she hadn't somehow smudged or snagged it on something. "That's ridiculous." She charged back into the changing room.

Harry rose to his feet. "Come on, Hermione."

"Out of the question. That is a severe waste of Galleons. Can feed an entire family for a year."

Harry shot an embarrassed look over at the clerk. "Let me, Hermione. You need something nice for the weekend."

"What I have is suitable."

He shook his head in frustration. "Put it on my tab," he mouthed to the clerk. "Room 705."

He jumped slightly when the door came crashing open. "Honestly...for a scrap of silk."

"Hermione," he warned, though all he felt was amusement. "It's hardly proper etiquette to ask for prices in a store like this."

She shot him an incredulous look, opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again.

He chuckled. His witch was a riot. She'd better get used to spending his Galleons, because he planned on showering her with gifts and making sure she was always pampered. Hermione wore that dress like it was made for her, and it confirmed what he already knew - she wasn't just brains and books - she was graced with incredible beauty she rarely showed to anyone. He would see to it that this was the first of many gifts she received this weekend. She deserved the best.

~oOo*oOo~