A/N: Fast Frank (if you're still reading) Yes! Belgium wasn't established until 1830. After the Napoleonic Wars had ended in 1815 the Chanel packets were moved to Harwich and suspended from Dover. The only ships that remained in Dover were from the Fector Family, and they were predominantly used as cargo or used by the Royal Navy. Those cargo ships used the neutral Belgian flag and were immune to attack because the Fector family had a company based in Ostend. On their fliers they advertised that they were 'free from molestation from ships and privateers of the Powers at War'. As Hermione and Tom aren't strictly in the past, I was/am a little flexible with things. That's also why I haven't established dates or years, just a general round about time frame. Sorry if that disappoints anyone but that's my reasoning.

I just used google translate for the French sorry if there are mistakes!

Thanks to all the lovely readers and everyone who comments.

BIENVENUE à PARIS

Previously…

"That's a remarkable way of thinking about it, poetic. Stardust, I like it", he shifted on the bench and I felt his arm lean against mine. I relaxed; we were going to be ok. Murderous impulses aside. Maybe I could one day call him a friend.

BACK IN THE PRESENT

Harry (and Ron) third person POV

The two young men sat quietly off to the side both with fervent anticipation of what was to come. They were concerned about their best friend's welfare. What was happening to her right now? Was she being tormented by Voldemort? Was she dead? It stricken them both that if she was indeed dead, then she would have died alone and afraid.

"Do you think she is ok?", the red headed boy bumped shoulders with his green eyed bespectacled best friend, looking for comforting reassurance that Hermione will be fine. Even if he ultimately knows that it will be steeped in hollow denial.

"I don't know Ron. I don't know", there was nothing else that Harry could say to reassure his friend. He knew what Voldemort was like, so he only hoped that she wasn't tortured. That it was a quick death and that was cold comfort. But there was still something nagging, a thread of a thought snagging on his awareness. In the forest he can't, couldn't understand. What was up with Voldemort's behaviour? His fleeting fascination with Hermione and then protecting her from Dumbledore when he suddenly appeared. It was rather confusing. Although a rebellious thought bubbled to the surface, thinking that Voldemort might have been suspiciously correct about Dumbledore. He noted the bitterness which surrounded the thought. The old Headmaster has been acting strange since his reappearance, he doesn't seem the same as before he died. How did he survive the Gaunt ring, when we all saw his withered black necrotic hand? What the hell has he been doing for the last year? Yes, he gave us some long-winded story about constructing this prison, which sounded…well he wasn't completely on board with it. It sounded like something Voldemort would do. Not the warriors of good and justice. Harry wouldn't say this out loud, but it bothered him greatly. Was it even possible to remove them from that 'prison'?

"We'll get her back yeah? Hermione is as smart as that snake-faced ass hat, she's resilient and resourceful. I'm…I'm sure she'll be fine", now it was Ron's turn to attempt to lift Harry's spirits, even as he sounded resigned and despondent. Harry appreciated the effort.

Harry remained focused on the movements of Dumbledore as he, flicked pages, stacked books and rearranged his desk. It was a lot of doing something without actually accomplishing anything. He flicked his eyes over the rest of the room. The adults were huddled together, discussing something and the twins and Ginny were whispering. No doubt up to know good, but he couldn't summon the feeling to care about what they were planning in this moment. No, he would continue to watch Dumbledore with a scrutiny that Hermione would have been proud of. He would get to the bottom of this, he just didn't know if he would like what the bottom was. He didn't want Hermione to be the human sacrifice to take down the Dark Lord. Why couldn't Dumbledore take him out like Grindelwald? Why did it have to be him? Because of some stupid prophecy? He didn't really believe in prophecies but followed what this 'great' wizard said to the letter because he thought it was the only way. Now however, things have definitely changed. If he manages to bring them both back from wherever he has sent them, and by chance Hermione is still alive, he would be more than interested to see what Voldemort has to say about everything. Something is not adding up, but he doesn't know what it is yet. His instincts are screaming that something is wrong. But for now, he'll watch and wait.

Tom POV

France, somewhere near Paris

After a week or so of wandering around the local area

She is dangerous. Like a slow acting poison. She is seeping in, being absorbed into my skin. She doesn't realise it yet, but she will be mine in due time.

I have astutely decided that I will keep her around for now. She would be a good ally if we ever get back. If only just to rub it in Dumbledore's face that I turned the mudblood princess to my side.

The joy it would bring me, I would relish it so. Maybe it would finally crack that facade he has so fastidiously kept up all these years. Finally, they would see the master manipulator, behind those blue fucking twinkly eyes that I'd love to rip out of his eye sockets. I smile darkly at that. I would use a muggle method that I have heard about but never had the chance to implement. A spoon. Dig his eyes out with a spoon. Getting the angle right as you force the metal between the eye and the socket, careful to apply the right pressure because you don't want to slip and go too far in and hit the brain. No, just enough to get behind the eye, then lift and twist. Scoop out the eyeball with the optic nerve still attached to the brain. I would preserve them in a jar in my study so I can look at them every day and know I finally beat the bastard. Mmm most of my followers would appreciate the brutality of it, some of the more uptight members (That's right Lucius I'm thinking of you), would cringe at having resolved to more primitive muggle methods. Because really, they don't want their prissy hands getting dirty.

"What are you smiling about?", Hermione touches my arm gently getting my attention. She was sweet talking a farmer to give us a ride as far as he is going in the direction of Paris, on the back of his farmers cart. Her sweet innocent nature could charm most people if she put in the effort. Otherwise she could be quite abrasive and that annoys most of the general populous. I find I rather like her when she is like that. But I still have lines she cannot cross.

"Oh, nothing you need to worry about Mrs Granger", I flash my best smile as the farmer was coming over, slipping my arm around Hermione's waist. Playing the part of love-sick husband, I would rather at this point slice one of my own fingers off.

" Oiseaux d'amour prêts à partir?", the older farmer, was missing some teeth and his face was weather beaten after years of ploughing the fields. He nodded and bowed a little, scrunching his hat in both his hands. I wondered what Hermione had told him, for us to be allowed to ride in the back of his cart amongst the vegetables. I hated having to ride like a commoner, but it was better than having to walk all the way to Paris. Love birds really?

"Ouis bien sûr", Hermione replied politely, squeezing my waist as a warning I presume to stop me from doing something that would ruin this for us.

"Montrer le chemin", I waved my hand in front, indicating for him to take us to his cart. I assisted Hermione up onto the cart, just like a good and proper gentleman would take care of his wife. We both shifted some of the crates around to make room for both of us to sit down. It was going to be a long bumpy ride, I let Hermione rest her head on my shoulder. It was all part of the role playing after all.

Hermione POV

The farmer was relatively easy to convince to let us hitch a ride in his vegetable cart. I did promise that we would help set up his stall at the markets in exchange. I haven't told Tom this yet, I'm sure he will be thrilled. I could remember enough French from holidays with my parents to get around.

"So how did you do it Mrs Granger?", Tom poked me in the side to get my attention, which nearly ended up with him getting an elbow in return.

"The wistful tale of misunderstood forbidden love and we are eloping to Paris to start a new life and open our dream apothecary", he snorted at the forbidden love. In virtually every version or scenario I could think of in this moment, our tale of love would fall into the forbidden category. We are separated by an expanse that I cannot even begin to fathom of how we would cross.

"What? it won him over and here we are, besides we are going to need a cover story because people will ask us. We kind of standout".

"Yes, I suppose you are right. We'll try our best to fly under the radar. Now relax Mrs Granger, it's still a few hours to Paris even without the walking", I took that que that he wanted to peace and quiet not to be bombarded with questions like I usually barrage him with. He was just quite fascinating to speak with on the subject of magical theory. Or any subject really, he was so widely read, it was refreshing being able to speak with him about things that I can rarely speak about to anyone, because they just weren't interested or they couldn't grasp the subject matter. I nestled in next to him and let my head drop to his shoulder, I was rather appalled with myself that I enjoyed his smell. It was something that I can began to associate with safety. Which was hilarious if it wasn't so depressing. It was unhealthy is what it was.

Paris

It didn't take as long as I thought it would for us to enter the outskirts of Paris, perhaps three hours? Tom was not thrilled as I had expected him to be at the prospect of hauling crates of vegetables and helping to set up the man's market stall. But aside from physical labour, it was a free ride. I considered that a win.

I let Tom take the lead as we walked around the streets of Paris, trying to get our bearings to the best of our abilities from our time in the future. It wasn't that much difference to London, a busy city that still smelled horribly and was rather dirty.

It was getting late in the afternoon and I started to wonder where we were going to stay the night. But before I get the question out, I had noticed that we were heading to a more well 'dubious' area. I briefly considered if he was looking for the entrance into the French wizarding community. I could see a heated argument between a man and a woman, at first you would think it was a marital spat, but I could only pick up certain words and it was no domestic. No, this sounded like an employer and an employee. Normally I would have just walked by because she seemed to be handling herself, but he was getting a bit aggressive.

"Madame, je n'ai plus besoin de vous. Je vous l'ai dit plusieurs fois. Maintenant laisse ou je te ferai", to me that sounded like a threat- Leave or I'll make you.

" C'est n'importe quoi. Vous avez donné mon rôle à un homme! Discrimination pour être une femme", the woman was punctuating her displeasure with various hand gestures. I would be livid as well if this happened to me. Losing her job because of her gender.

"Vous êtes une femme votre travail est à la maison", the woman, huffed in indignation and raised her hand to slap the man across the face. I would too if someone told me my only place was in the home. The man reacted quickly and grabbed her wrist in mid-air and twisted, if he twisted any harder, he could break her wrist. I could not let this go.

"Tom", I gripped his arm tightly as adrenaline spiked through me. He tightened his elbow so I couldn't release my arm.

"Hermione, you don't need to intervene every time you see an injustice", I whacked him with my free hand.

"So, you acknowledge that it is an injustice, what that man is doing? Well I am not the kind of person that just stands idly by Tom", I watched as he looked back over to the man, his face tightened and then relaxed. I would have missed it if I wasn't openly assessing at close quarters.

"Fine, but don't get all high and mighty if I break his fingers for laying a hand on you", I was surprised he acquiesced so easily. I don't think he cared either way whether I got hurt, he just wanted an excuse to assault someone. I pulled my arm out and ran to intervene.

"Excuse me! Excusez-moi", I stepped in between the man and the woman, pulling on his arm to bring it down so the woman's arm wouldn't be twisted. "Ahh let her go!", I struggled against the strength of the man, but I wasn't going to give up. I then lifted my weight off the ground, so he had to support it. It made him let go of the woman and he kicked out at me. Hitting me in the thigh, I instantly let go to grab my leg. I levelled a glare at him then turned to the woman, who was on the ground rubbing her wrist.

"Contrôle ta femme!"

Tom laughed, it wasn't light or genuine. It had a sharp edge and if the man had any sense he would have run off. But, alas he did not.

"Control her?", he sauntered over to the man, standing right in his personal space. He didn't even bother switching to French. "Why would I want to control her?", without telegraphing his intention he suddenly had a hold of the man's left hand, twisting and you could hear the audible creak and snap of the bone. I grimaced and felt sick. "I like her rather feisty", he said cupping his own hand over the man's mouth to stop him from screaming. He kneed the man in the stomach to force him to the ground, the man tried to get up using his uninjured arm. Whimpering in pain, behind Tom's hand. "Ah Ah ah…No I don't think so. You can stay on the ground where you belong", I saw him pick up the other hand and said "This is for touching my wife", I turned quickly back to the other woman, I knew what he was going to do.

"Excusez moi, parlez-vous anglais?", I asked, the sound of the man's muffled cries again permeated the air.

"Oui…ah yes. Thank you for stopping that man. Am grateful to you and your husband", her accent was thick, but I could understand her well enough to get what she was saying. Close up I can see already she has lived a harder life than most. She had deep lines in her skin already but, I got the impression she was younger than she looked. She was unremarkable really, just another face in the crowd that would be lost in the history books. I felt a little sad by that.

"Sorry for his behaviour. He can go overboard", I had hoped she wasn't offended by Tom's brutality.

"Non, he is good man not stopping you from being you", the irony of that was not lost on me if only she knew how he had been actively trying to rid mudblood scum from the face of the earth a few months prior.

I turned to look back at Tom, he was crouched down next to the man saying something, he was grinning evilly. I can only assume it was a death threat, I see him quickly pocket something. Not that I am surprised, he is an opportunist after all.

"Is your wrist alright? Do you need to see a doctor?", I helped her up of the ground, and onto steady feet.

"Non, I am fine. It will be sore for few days but ok. Are you visiting Paris for holiday?"

"We just arrived today actually", I smiled at her while rubbing my sore thigh, I'm sure when I look at it tonight it will be purple.

"Oh my, bienvenue à Paris! Such a lovely city despite the mongrels", she spat in the direction of the man trying to nurse both his injuries.

"Yes, welcome to Paris"

Madame, je n'ai plus besoin de vous. Je vous l'ai dit plusieurs fois. Maintenant laisse ou je te ferai.- Madam, I do not need you anymore. I have told you this several times. Now leave or I will make you.

C'est n'importe quoi. Vous avez donné mon rôle à un homme! Discrimination pour être une femme.- That's bullshit. You gave my role to a man! Discrimination for being a woman.

Vous êtes une femme votre travail est à la maison- You are a woman your job is at home

Contrôle ta femme!- control your woman

Oiseaux d'amour prêts à partir?- love birds ready to go?