Chapter 19: From Paris
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The week crawled by as Hermione's excitement for the weekend pulled at her thoughts each day. She'd done some thinking about how to sit down with her friends and explain the situation. She'd decided she wanted to do it with Draco, Harry, Ginny and Ron in someone's room. An intimate enough setting to let Ron freak out if he was going to without Draco having to hear it around a larger group. She would do it next weekend by telling Harry about her plan to get him on board, inviting them all to hang out and bringing Draco with her to make the announcement. And then this would all be behind them and whatever was to come would come.
Once she had told those closest to her, she would be honest about it with whoever else she found herself around and then the following Monday morning, she and Draco could just walk into the Great Hall holding hands and word would spread naturally. Enough people would know by that time that hopefully the lack of reaction from the professors would lessen the reactions from the students. It felt like a good plan and although she was still a tiny bit nervous, she would stick to it.
But it was finally Saturday morning and she was in her room, gathering her bag and her coat to wander down to the gates for their portkey to Paris. She hoped it was early enough not to run into anyone in the halls because as she racked her brain, she realized she hadn't come up with any kind of excuse. She shrugged, she'd improvise if she had to. It wouldn't matter much longer anyway as she could tell them all about Paris in just a week's time.
Hermione left her room, her cloak swishing around her as she walked quickly down the stairs, across the entrance hall and out the door. By the time she reached the large tree outside the gates, she was a bit out of breath. She leaned against the tree to wait as she took a few deep breaths.
"Did you sprint down here?" Draco's smooth voice cut through her breathing counts.
"A little excited for the weekend I guess," she replied as he wrapped his arms around her waist and her hands slithered up his chest.
"Good, because I've got quite the day planned," he grinned, leaning down to kiss her before he pulled a broken chess piece out of his pocket and held it out in his hand, "If you'll grab onto our portkey with me, we'll be off in a moment."
Hermione covered his hand with hers so they were both grasping the portkey and smiled up at him. After a few seconds the chess piece vibrated and a pull behind their bellybuttons whisked them away to France.
They landed on their feet in an alley off a main road in muggle Paris, cars bustling along off in the distance.
"So where do we go from here?" She asked, grabbing his hand to let him lead the way.
"Montmartre," he said coyly, squeezing her hand and feeling his entire body relax at their ability to be themselves for the day as he turned and started down the street.
"And what will we do in Montmartre?"
"It's a surprise, of course, but I figured we'd start with breakfast."
A few streets down the main road, Draco veered off towards a set of stairs to a park below and Hermione followed. On the first landing, a large, bronze statue of a lady sat against the railing and Draco leaned against it as she furrowed her brow at his choice in rest stop. He smirked, pulling her towards him as they both slipped through the statue and Hermione gasped inaudibly at the change in atmosphere. They had clearly entered the wizarding part of Paris and magic filled the air once again as clothes danced in the storefronts and small fireworks erupted over the fountain in the town center.
"Welcome to Montmartre," Draco said nonchalantly, his eyes twinkling as she took it all in.
"It's like Diagon Alley if Diagon Alley was centered around fashion and food," she said in awe. The witches and wizards wandering about were all dressed suavely, emitting an air of coolness and confidence that she'd learned all too well of the French on prior visits.
Draco pulled her hand gently, "Shall we?"
She nodded, still looking around at all of the sights.
After another block, Draco turned and led her down a side street where the sign for a cafe hovered with the words L' Abri scrawled across it, its presence understated as compared to the shops on the main road. He opened the door for her, ushering her into the welcoming atmosphere of the small establishment, which was furnished with an array of private tables and antique fixtures. A fire crackled in the corner and the air was filled with a hum of conversation from the patrons scattered about. It felt warm and inviting and she looked around with a smile on her face as she chose a table by the fireplace and settled into an oversized red armchair.
"This is where I like to come for a quiet afternoon by myself," Draco said, "I actually came down here one weekend at the end of September when I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by being back at Hogwarts."
"It's very quaint," Hermione gave him a soft smile, "A little different than The Alchemist Den."
"There's more to me than my social status, Granger," he said matter-of-factly, covering her hand that was resting on the table with his.
"I thought there may be a reason I liked you other than your looks."
"Bonjour, qu'est-ce que vous voulez boire?" A very short and round older witch bustled over to them.
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, being quite proficient in French, but Draco beat her to it, "Deux cappuccinos, s'il vous plaît."
Hermione whipped her head around to him as the witch nodded and walked back behind the counter.
"And you know French," Hermione noted with a hint of surprise.
"I feel like you really don't give me enough credit," he said with a bit of indignation as he sat back in his chair.
"Perhaps I didn't," she said thoughtfully, clasping her hands on the table, "Where did you learn French?"
"I had a private tutor as a child growing up, mother always told me the earlier you learn it, the more it sticks."
"Just French? Anything else?"
"German, Russian and Spanish," he said with a cocky grin.
"I'm impressed," she admitted, "Different cultures are a beautiful thing to study."
"Yes, I appreciate it now. At the time I whined about the lessons quite often."
"I'm sure you did," she said cheekily before straightening up a little in her chair, preparing to ask more about his childhood; a conversation he always tried to avoid, "What was it like growing up with Narcissa and Lucius?"
He let a long breath out of his nose, the look in his eyes weary, but unguarded, "Proper," he finally said, "Structured," he knew she just wanted to understand and he wanted to have this transparency with her.
Hermione nodded, happy she was pulling something from him on the subject, "Okay, unpack that a bit for me."
The waitress returned with their cappuccinos, placing one in front of each of them.
"Merci," Draco and Hermione both said to her as she nodded with a smile and walked over to the next table.
Draco tipped a bit of sugar into his cappuccino and stirred it slowly, buying himself time and Hermione waited patiently. He finally tapped his spoon on the side of the cup a couple of times and placed it on his napkin before meeting her gaze again.
"My life growing up was very structured in the way that it was pre-planned out for me," he said again, "There were things I was expected to learn at certain ages. Languages, riding a broom, ballroom dancing, reading at a certain level," he paused for a moment before continuing with a determined tone in his voice, he needed her to see all of him if they were going to walk down this road; he needed to be able to let her into his past. Even if that included parts of his life he wasn't as proud of, "Learning about the dark arts, accepting the dark arts, learning about the importance of bloodlines, joining the Death Eaters…" he let the explanation trail off, "My father had a vision of what my life would be and he set me on that track and didn't allow me to divert. At least that's how it felt in my mind. We didn't talk about feelings or how our day went at the dinner table or anything like that, our interactions were always just very… proper.
"I learned to turn off my emotions at an early age because my father called it nonsense when I would get upset or question him. He had a demeanor of power about him and it wasn't something I wanted to oppose. As I was growing up, I almost idolized him for how he carried himself so confidently and surely. I envied his power around others and his seemingly respectable status in the wizarding world. That was another reason I didn't question his methods. I thought I wanted to be just like him. Before I saw it all for what it was."
"And your mother?" She knew it wasn't easy for him to talk about, but she wanted them to have the openness in their relationship to bring up the hard stuff too. To know how to talk things out and grow together. Whether past or present struggles.
"She loves my father," he sighed, relaxing into the conversation as he recognized her tone as supportive, not judgmental, and her engagement as caring, rather than prying, "She supported him through everything and she will stand by his side until his last day so she did things how he expected them done. However when it was just her and I alone, without his influence, things felt less forced. She has a warm presence that gets overshadowed by my father's coldness. She wants me to be happy, at the root of it, so she'd hug me tightly before bed and tell me good job when I excelled at something. Words of affirmation I didn't get from my father.
"It's not that he didn't care about me, of course. We were a family and family is everything to a Malfoy. In his mind, everything he was doing was for us. To protect us; to hand down our status and respect for me to carry on. To give my mother a luxurious life. And don't get me wrong, he was very proud of my accomplishments and he loved my mother and I very much. We just didn't talk about it and it didn't change the fact that we did things his way."
"How do you feel about him being in Azkaban?" She asked with honest curiosity, bringing her mug to her lips.
He shrugged, "It's where he should be. It will make my mother happy when he gets out and maybe he will have learned something. He did walk away with us in the end because he realized my mother and I were done with it and that he was fighting a losing battle. He'd lost the respect of the wizarding world and he'd lost his status in the Death Eaters.
"We'd asked him to walk away from it all some time during sixth year when the gravity of my task had set in and I realized I wanted no part of it. But he wouldn't hear it because he thought his status in the Death Eaters was all we had left after he'd been arrested fifth year and he was scared of what would happen if we tried to leave. It's why I tried to see the task through that year. I thought it was Dumbledore or my family. Not that it makes it okay. I started to lower my wand when Dumbledore said he could protect us. I thought maybe it's what I needed to finally get my father to leave their side. But it was too late and the other Death Eaters showed up."
"But you did all stop fighting in the end," Hermione noted, thinking back to the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, "I saw you together in the Great Hall, huddled in a corner before Harry finally faced Voldemort. It was clear you'd withdrawn."
Draco nodded, "We were talking about if we should join the fight on the side of the Order or run. But then the final showdown happened and for better or worse, we didn't have to make the decision. You see, by the Battle of Hogwarts, Lucius was only still in the Death Eaters to protect our family and when the fight began and I disappeared to find Potter, my mother begged him to walk away from it all if they found me still alive. Told him the life we were living wasn't one she'd ever wanted for her family. There was nothing left for him to feel he was fighting for besides giving my mother and I a better life and he finally gave in and agreed to walk away, whether the Dark Lord won or lost. He kept his word when we found each other again that night. I'll always be grateful to him for that. But right now, I think Azkaban is where he deserves to be for the things he did when he was a part of it all. He won't be there much longer anyway."
"That's right," she said as realization dawned on her, "He's set for release this summer, isn't he?" It was something she'd never imagined impacting her personal life.
Draco nodded, their eyes meeting in understanding.
"Which means, if we're together, you'll likely have to figure out how to break the news to him, as well as your mother," her voice held hesitance as she digested that.
He scoffed lightly, "What do you mean 'if' Granger?"
She chuckled lightly at his reaction, "Just a figure of speech. Have to keep you on your toes."
"I anticipate it being a conversation I'll have to have with them both," he said definitively, "And they will have to deal with it."
"But he won't be happy."
"No, he won't be happy," Draco agreed, "But I am happy and it's his reputation I've spent the last five years of my life trying to distance myself from so he'll have to find a way to come to terms with it. I won't let him come in between us."
Hermione took another sip of her cappuccino, setting the mug down slowly, "So are you planning on introducing me to your mother before that?"
"Yes," he said, clearing his throat a bit, "I was actually thinking I'd invite her to Hogsmeade soon for lunch and I'd like for you to join us."
Hermione nodded, "Alright, I know it'll be difficult, but I do think it makes sense to have the introductions with her before your father returns and his opinion impacts her reaction."
"That was my thought process as well, however," his features were determined, "Before you meet her, I'd like it to be out in the open that we're together. To everyone else at Hogwarts."
Hermione smiled softly, she was planning to surprise him next week with her decision to tell her friend together, "Alright, that's fair."
"Alright. Once that happens, I'll send her an owl and we can set something up then."
"Que voudriez-vous manger?" The waitress had returned for their order.
They each picked a pastry from the list and she bustled off again towards the kitchens.
"So what are The Grangers like?" Draco changed the subject before the conversation returned to his parents.
"My parents are lovely. They're both dentists so they tend to people's teeth," she began, accepting that he'd said all he had in him on the prior discussion. She was sure he understood that these conversations helped to give her more context on his life and his choices, but she did truly believe that unlocking some of the things he tried to keep bottled up must be a bit therapeutic for him as well in some capacity.
"In… what way do they tend to teeth?" Draco looked very confused.
"So, in the muggle world there aren't charms to clean teeth or make them straighter," she explained, "My parents take patients, like a healer would, and make sure their teeth are properly cared for to keep them healthy."
"What would happen if they didn't go to a... dentist did you call it?"
"Yes," she chuckled, "Well, if they didn't properly deep clean their own teeth, they could get infections or cavities, their teeth could degenerate early and cause all sorts of problems."
"That sounds terrible," Draco said, thinking about his own pristine set of teeth.
"It is," she nodded, "So that's what they do. And growing up with them was calm. They liked their routines and I liked routines too. They always said I was much too mature for my age."
"You were," he grinned.
She shot him a fake smile and continued, "But we would always eat dinner together and I would just rattle on about whatever I was reading about in the book of the week. We played cards and board games. Went on camping trips and visited new countries on school breaks."
"And every once in a while you'd accidentlally vanish a window or two and leave everyone perplexed," he said smartly.
Hermione laughed, "Yes, just to keep things interesting. You know, once on a camping trip I remember I was so excited about a book I was reading that I was very animatedly trying to explain it to my parents and at one point I jumped up as I revealed the climax and the campfire in front of us just suddenly burst back to life as it was dying off and my father looked at me and laughed saying, Seems like even the fire was entranced by your story."
"You do have a certain charm about you when you're talking about books."
"A trait I likely got from my mother. She was always enthralled with reading and learning as well. She resolved to read to me every night until I learned to read myself and she said one day I just started reading out loud along with her."
"That sounds like a nice childhood," Draco said sincerely, wondering what an upbringing like that would have been like; how it would have impacted the choices he'd made.
"It was," she smiled, "It'll be nice to introduce you to them as well. They love embracing my world when they have the chance."
It made him very happy to hear she thought about bringing him further into her life. "I'll look forward to that," he returned her smiled, "So after this I'll be taking you to my favorite art museum,"
"That sounds wonderful! I'd be very intrigued to see what a wizarding art museum would hold."
"We actually sold a piece to this museum a while back. I'll show you that one specifically, it isn't the most interesting piece in the place, but it's got a lot of history in it."
"You sold a piece to a museum?" She laughed, "I'll certainly have to see that then."
"You said there was a popular muggle museum in Paris too, didn't you?" Draco asked, "What's that one like?"
The waitress returned with their pastries and they settled in as Hermione told him about some of the artists highlighted in the Louvre and her favorite pieces. It was an absolute shock to her that artists like da Vinci and Michelangelo were not household names in the Wizarding World.
"So do you own anything by this Michelangelo, then?" Draco asked with intrigue, wondering if he'd be able to see what was so exciting.
"Do I own a Michelangelo?" She asked incredulously, "No, Draco, I don't own a Michelangelo. That would be millions of pounds — millions of galleons even. Maybe I'll take you to the Louvre one day and I can show you there."
Draco considered that, "Well that would definitely be a new experience. I know virtually nothing about the muggle world."
"You'll learn," she said confidently, "There's some fascinating stuff in the muggle world too."
"I'm sure there is, Granger," he tried to be optimistic about it, despite what he was brought up to believe.
She gave a soft laugh and paused, "Can I ask you something?"
Draco nodded as he took a bite of his pumpkin pasty.
"Why is it that you wanted me to call you Draco and you still get to call me Granger?"
"Well…" he tried to decide how to answer her, "First and foremost, I just very much enjoy hearing my name come from your lips," his voice was low and their eyes locked in that magnetic way that made her cheeks flush, but she had a feeling there was more, "But also," he cleared his throat, "I wanted to distance myself from what you associated with the name Malfoy. I wanted to be someone new for you if we were going to start a romantic relationship. Like a new title to the next chapter in a book. Something that shifts the tone."
Hermione considered his response thoughtfully, "I'd already removed you from the boy you used to be by that point, though."
"You may have, but the way you used to think of me, as Malfoy, was just something I wanted to completely remove myself from. I wanted to be Draco. Someone new, someone deserving, someone with a different path. I know it doesn't really change anything, but I think I attach a stigma to my own last name now. I know what being a Malfoy means. And I'm still a Malfoy, and I hope one day I'll bring some respect back to that name, but to you, I wanted to be Draco."
Her chest pulled tight listening to his explanation. They were words of a man who'd been broken and was trying his hardest to put himself back together. They told a story of regret and guilt, but also hope; hope for a second chance. Together. She reached out and squeezed his hand again and they shared an understanding smile. His hands were warm and she had a feeling they'd entered difficult-conversation territory again, so she tried to make her next question a bit more airy.
"And what of you sticking with calling me Granger?"
"Well you've always been quite wonderful just the way you are," he said in a tone of blatant flattery and she laughed.
"Certainly not what you thought of me back then, either."
"Oh I knew you were special, even then, even if I was a brat. But I didn't like that you got better grades; My father had told me muggleborns weren't as gifted as purebloods so it drove me mad that you beat me in every class. And you were best friends with Potter, who rejected my friendship the first day of school and you were always here to defend him. Not to mention you were the only one who snapped back at me when I made the pompous comments that I did. You got to me for the same reasons that you do now, I just see them in a completely different light. I love how brilliant you are, something that challenges me. I love what an unwavering friend you are and how deeply you care for those close to you and I am very thankful to be one of those people now. And I love the fierce wit that you take on life with," he paused, his lip curling up as he took her in again, "So you see, Granger still fits perfectly. I see you exactly the same in a completely different light."
Hermione tried her best to find her words, but her throat felt a bit tight now as she looked back at him, "Well I guess I have a few more reasons to enjoy hearing you call me that then."
"Do you like it? Or do you wish I called you Hermione?"
She felt a slight chill run down her arm as she realized it was the first time she'd ever even heard him say her name, and she thought for a moment, "I do like that… but Granger feels oddly right, actually."
"Wonderful, then I'm sticking with Granger until I find a reason to call you something else," he gave her an almost unnoticeable wink before he grabbed his napkin, wiping the crumbs from his hands, and changing the subject before she had a chance to think on his comment too much, "Shall we get on to Musée Fantaisiste?"
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A/N: So this is one of those chapters that I wrote and it was kind of long… and then as I went back and edited and edited again, and again I just kept adding even more to the point where I decided to split it into two chapters. So thus, "From Paris, With Love" turned into a two part Valentine's Day spectacular starting with Part I, "From Paris". "With Love" coming soon.
On a separate note, apologies for the delay in this chapter, I had a death in the family and had to travel back east for a few days before turning around to head back west for a pre-planned vacation. Life happens out of our control sometimes. It's a good reminder to hug those close to you whenever you get the chance. Thank you for being patient, next chapter is just being edited and will post soon! Xx
Thank you so much for all of your reviews, they really do mean a lot to me :)
ThatRandomPanda — I wanted to give you a quick response to your question on the Bones family! Unfortunately the simple answer is that this is something I overlooked. I always remembered the death of Amelia Bones (Susan's aunt), but totally forgot the mention of the deaths of the majority of Susan's family until I googled it after reading your review. If I ever have a chance to go back and edit this story in full after it's finished, I'll likely switch out Susan for another student to keep things as canon as I can! Thanks for taking the time to review.
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