Author's Note: To make it less jarring, I will be writing the dialogue in English even though Hermione (and the people she meets in Paris) will be speaking in French.
the parisian escape
chapter 4
When the portkey stopped spinning, Hermione tumbled to the ground. Two strong arms were quick to help her up, and she smiled up at the wizard, thanking him. It had been ages since she'd last used one and she'd forgotten how dizzy and nauseating it could be. The portkey had taken her to the reception area in the French Ministry of Magic, known here as Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France. Their ministry had beautiful architecture, looking more like a palace than a government building. She was itching to go to the library to read up on the history, but first, she needed to go to the immigration office.
After asking for directions, Hermione approached the receptionist. "Hi, I've recently moved here from England. I was told to make an appointment to go over my residency papers?"
"What is your name, mademoiselle?" The woman didn't look up from her book, turned the page and continuing reading.
"Hermione Granger."
This got the receptionist's attention, and she dropped her book on her desk, giving Hermione her full attention. "Mademoiselle Granger. Monsieur Chambard has already set aside time to see you today. Let me show you in."
"Thank you."
"Welcome to France," the receptionist said, once Mr Chambard signalled her to come in.
He was an older wizard with a great sense of humour and full of restaurant recommendations that she absolutely had to try. It didn't take long for them to go through her paperwork—Hermione always kept everything organised and colour-coded—and she was off to find her new flat. The French Ministry was close to la Seine, and already Hermione felt a thrill of excitement. The best thing about being a witch was that she didn't have to haul a suitcase and could go explore. Her landlord lived in one of the flats, so she just needed to swing by to pick up her keys before it got too late in the evening.
As soon as she reached the road along la Seine, Hermione forgot all her worries as she took in the city. Across la Seine, she could see the Jardin des Tuileries and the Louvre. There were no words to describe how beautiful and grand it looked. Tourists filled the garden and she was thrilled that she would soon be able to properly explore the city. She crossed the street, almost looking the wrong way, before taking a seat on some steps along la Seine. Behind her, she could see the Musée d'Orsay and couldn't wait until she had time to go and explore the art collections within.
This felt like a dream that she would wake up from any moment. But a quick pinch to her arm proved that this was indeed real.
Now she understood the look Clara used to give her each time Hermione told her she'd turned down the job offer here. The history alone was enough to make her giddy. French history, especially the time of Louis XIV, was one of her favourite time periods. And here she was, right where this history had happened. She watched a flock of tourists walk past, stopping every couple of steps to take selfies. Hermione laughed and wondered if she should get a phone here. She'd lost touch with the muggle world back in London, and she didn't know how close the two worlds were here in France.
Starting to feel a little hungry, Hermione decided to walk to le Marais. She decided to cross la Seine early to walk past the Louvre and take in the sight. In her readings, Hermione always forgot that it was originally a palace before Louis XIV moved the court to Versailles. It would take days to explore the Louvre the way she wanted to. Though she supposed that now that she lived here, Hermione could spend as much time as she wished to take in the sights. She wasn't restricted to a vacation schedule.
One of the first things she needed to do was get a camera. As she walked past the Notre-Dame, smiling as she was surrounded by people speaking French, Hermione realised that she barely had any pictures of herself. She'd always bought pictures from Colin back at Hogwarts. She knew that muggles combined phones and cameras to make a camera phone. Maybe that was reason enough to get a phone. Though she wasn't sure who she would call. None of her friends had one.
Her musings had distracted her, and before she knew it, she had arrived at her flat. Ringing the buzzer, she quickly picked up the keys from her landlord and followed her up to her apartment on the top floor.
"If you have any questions, let me know," the woman said as they walked up the many steps to her new flat. "I'm not sure what you've done to deserve this apartment, but here you are."
Hermione opened the front door and gasped. Just like the exterior, the pictures didn't do her new home justice. Though it was small, it was perfect. The person who had picked the furniture had done an excellent job. Everything about it was cosy, from the velvet couch to the intimate dining table. A bike was propped up in the corner of the kitchen, and already she was mentally planning out the routes she'd bike along. Her bedroom was quite a bit smaller than she was used to, but it looked like the perfect place to snuggle into at the end of a long day. She opened the windows to freshen up the room before moving on.
Though the rest of the apartment was white with white panelling, the bathroom was painted a dark green with golden plumbing. The colouring made the room feel elegant, and not for the first time, Hermione wondered if she'd landed in a romance novel. Would she casually run into a mysterious French man while touring Paris and fall deeply and passionately in love? She hoped so. She was here to move on, wasn't she?
The best part of her new home was the balcony. She understood the landlady's comment as she looked around at the buildings around her. Balconies weren't that common on this street. Hermione already knew she'd be spending her Sundays here, reading a good book and people watching on the streets below.
So far, this move was a dream come true. And she'd barely even thought of Harry in all the excitement.
#
The next few days pass in a blur, between exploring her new neighbourhood and getting things organised at work. She'd gotten her identification badge, a hospital tour, and met a few of her colleagues. So far, the work seemed pretty similar to her job at St Mungo's. The only thing she'd need to practice before starting was her medical French. She was fluent in French—one of her summer projects when she first went to France with her parents—but she had focused on conversations rather than medical jargon.
Though she'd been eager to start working as soon as possible, Healer Dumont had given her a week off to get settled in Paris before her first day. Normally, she'd try to convince them to let her start sooner, but she enjoyed getting to know her new home. And it would give her a chance to practice her French before starting her new job.
Tonight, she was meeting Gabrielle Delacour in the magical district of Paris, le Quartier des Illusions. It was right in le Marais, and Hermione knew she'd spend a lot of time exploring the French equivalent to Diagon Alley. The streets were packed and she had to carefully weave through the crowd of people. She passed by a bookshop, a second-hand bookshop, an apothecary, and a shop that looked like it had all kinds of trinkets. Hermione kept walking until she reached the wine bar Gabrielle had suggested.
Hermione walked into the small bar and looked for the familiar shade of silver-blonde hair. It didn't take long to find her, Gabrielle's hair almost glowing in the dimmed atmosphere. When she reached the table, she hugged Fleur's sister and sat down across from her.
Gone was the little girl from the Triwizard Tournament. She'd seen Gabrielle at Fleur's wedding, but there was so much going on that Hermione hadn't talked to her. The witch in front of her emanated confidence and ease, making her feel frumpy in comparison. A wave of insecurity crashed over her. Gabrielle probably had her pick of people to hang out with. Why had she said yes to meeting up with Hermione?
"Do you mind if we speak in French?" Gabrielle asked, in French, "I fear that my English has gotten worse over the years."
"That's perfect. I need to work on my French before I start my shifts at Marie Curie."
She smiled. "Congratulations on the new job. They're lucky to have you."
"Thank you, that's very kind of you to say. What have you been up to since graduating Beauxbatons?"
"I'm currently studying magical international law at the Academie here. My parents wanted me to follow in Fleur's footsteps, but business and finances never suited me."
Hermione ordered a glass of merlot upon the server's recommendation. Once the two witches were served their glasses of wine, they spent the rest of the evening catching up. Hermione was delighted to discover that she and Gabrielle were very similar. The blonde witch was smart, ambitious, and loved art. They also shared a passion for history and Hermione was already looking forward to exploring Paris with her.
She also couldn't help but notice how different the two sisters were. Where Fleur was always trying to fit into British society and play down her Veela heritage, Gabrielle embraced their heritage. The younger witch was at ease with herself, which only made her more alluring in Hermione's opinion. She could see the other guests checking Gabrielle out, though the witch seemed to take no notice of the attention.
All in all, it was a fantastic evening.
"Thank you for meeting me, Gabrielle," Hermione said as they left the restaurant.
"Please, call me Gabby."
Hermione couldn't explain her impulsive decision. Maybe it was because she had a bit of a girl crush on Gabrielle and wanted to channel her confidence. Or maybe it was because it dawned on her that she was in Paris and she was living her new beginning, so she wanted something to mark this fresh start. "Since we're sharing nicknames, you can call me Mia."
"Do you know your way to the entrance?" Gabby asked.
She smiled. "I do, thank you."
"I can't wait to show you more of Paris, Mia! I'll send you an owl, and we can set something up!"
"Sounds like a plan!"
The two witches parted ways, and Hermione was about to leave when the trinket store caught her eye. Glancing at her watch, she was relieved to see that it was still open. The shopkeeper paid her little attention, letting her browse the shelves. It was full of muggle things that were converted for magical use. It was fascinating and she ignored the wave of grief that she couldn't share this with her parents. Her father would have loved this store. It was one of the many signs that she'd seen of how progressive magical France was compared to home. She would've never found a shop like this in Diagon Alley.
"Is that a mobile phone?" she asked the shopkeeper, pointing to the display behind the cash register.
"Yes, it is."
"Does it take pictures?"
He nodded. "Would you like to take a closer look?"
"Yes, please."
Twenty minutes later, Hermione walked out with a brand-new camera phone and the biggest grin.
#
The best thing about working at Marie Curie was the lack of lime green robes. Though healer robes needed to be green, France had chosen an emerald green shade—unfortunately, the exact same colour as Harry's eyes. At least they were universally flattering and easier on the eyes. Hermione stepped out of the changeroom and headed towards the triage desk. She knew she was early and that the healer she was shadowing probably hadn't arrived, but she couldn't help it. It had been an amazing week exploring le Marais and Paris, but Hermione missed working.
"You must be Healer Granger," a woman in green robes said. "I'm Healer Couture. I think you're shadowing me today?"
"Yes, lovely to meet you," Hermione said, reaching out to shake her hand. "Thank you for letting me shadow you."
She laughed. "I am a little nervous to have someone famous follow me around, but it should be fun."
"I promise you, I'm very boring."
"I doubt that very much," Healer Couture took a seat at one of the tables. "Healer Fourier will meet us here to give us report."
While they waited, the two healers started talking about the different styles of doing shift handover. St Mungo's preferred that reports were giving verbally, while Marie Curie had a sheet to fill out. You were still expected to go over it verbally. Apparently, it was still a new process, and not everyone was happy about having to do 'double' the work. Though Hermione could see the benefits. Having a template to guide her thoughts would be helpful, as she knew that she could get off topic during report.
"You must be the new healer everyone's talking about," Healer Fourier said, sitting across from them.
"Hopefully, you've only heard good things," Hermione joked.
He chuckled and started giving his report. He was an older wizard with kind eyes. Fourier looked like the type of person who constantly laughed and smiled, which was a boon to his patients in this profession. She also really liked Healer Couture. The witch was meticulously copying down notes, making sure that Hermione wasn't getting lost. She got the gist of it, but there were a few things she circled to get clarified later. So far, everyone had been really nice.
She spent the rest of the day following Healer Couture and taking notes, trying to mentally prepare for when she'd be working on her own. The job itself was still the same. Marie Curie received similar patients to St Mungo's. The differences were in how the department ran, the admission process to a ward upstairs, the test collection, and the mediwizard/witch scope of practice. Hermione also knew the biggest learning curve was to learn who everyone was so that she knew who to go to for help. The triage team would be easy enough, but she'd need to get to know the healers on the other wards for when she needed consults.
When her shift was over, Hermione planned to go back to her flat and read a book like she usually did. But as soon as she stepped outside, her feet carried her to la Seine. She walked down the stairs so that she could sit on the edge of the river and relaxed. Other couples had a similar idea and laughed and kissed, sharing a bottle of wine between them. For a moment, Hermione imagined that Harry was here with her. She'd tell him about her day at her new job, and they'd laugh about how different the French were. She'd relax in his arms, feeling safe and secure. It was the future she'd always imagined for herself.
Hermione caught her traitorous thought process and tried to redirect her thoughts. Here she was, in a new city and country, and she was thriving. Yes, she might be alone sitting at la Seine, but that was more than enough. Meeting with Gabrielle had given her much to think about in terms of confidence. She aspired to have a similar attitude as the blonde, feeling comfortable in her own skin. Leaning back against the stone wall, Hermione pulled out her new phone and took pictures of the scene around her. She didn't feel confident enough to take a selfie, but maybe one day soon, she would.
