Hey everyone! Welcome back! This is where the story really starts in my opinion. We pick up with Hermione, and she's been in France for about 2-3 weeks at this point. I just once again want to say that I am American and have never been to France, so I'm doing my best to not let that compromise the story, but sorry in advance for any inaccuracies. If anyone sees something that seems off, please let me know (politely) so I can fix it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; anything familiar belongs to JK Rowling

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Ch. 3: A Fun Evening

I spent my first week in Paris doing every tourist-y thing I could think of. I saw the sights, I ate the food, I drank the champagne, I visited the museums, and, overall, it was nice. After a few days, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders, and I found my thoughts drifting away from the War and the past more often.

Soon, however, that weight that had been lifted was replaced by a dull ache in my chest that I recognized as loneliness. Part of it was of course that I missed my loved ones, but mostly I missed human interaction in general. I was in a foreign country, alone, and, while I could get by with my French, I was hardly fluent. I had been spending large parts of the days alone, and even when I was surrounded by people it wasn't as if we were interacting. Finally, after a week of this feeling, I decided to do something about it. That morning, I went down to the rustic little café directly across from the hotel I was staying at in the Wizarding part of Paris. When I first arrived, I was the only patron in the small area, but I didn't let that deter me. Determined not to leave until I made some sort of connection, I brought a book, purchased a large cup of tea, and settled in to wait for an opportunity to strike.

Luckily, I didn't have to wait long. I was barely through the first chapter of my novel when I heard a delicate throat being cleared in front of me. Quickly, I raised my eyes from the pages to regard the young woman who stood in front of me. She had rich, auburn hair that was pulled back into an expertly messy knot on top of her head. Her features were delicate, with high cheekbones, a petite nose and upturned, sky-blue eyes. She was giving me an unsure smile, which I quickly returned.

"Excuse me," the woman began in her thick accent. "Are you Hermione Granger?" The way my name rolled so gracefully off of her tongue made it sound more appealing than it did even when I said it; I couldn't help but contrast it in my mind to Viktor's terrible pronunciation.

Despite the charm the woman emitted, I was still skeptical of this stranger approaching me almost as though she knew me. "Yes," I said hesitantly. "Do I know you?"

The woman shook her head repeatedly. "Oh no, no. I am Charlotte."

I tried to hide my frown. Part of the reason I had left Britain was to get away from this sudden "celebrity" status I had acquired, but apparently it had followed me. "Pleasure," I forced out.

Charlotte must have been able to sense my insincerity, because she quickly began apologizing. "I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you, truly." She appeared very nervous suddenly, wringing her hands together. "It is just that I saw you sitting here, and I had to come over to you. I simply had to thank you."

I had been growing irritated during her little speech, having heard something similar too many times before back home, but the last part brought me up short. "Thank me?" I asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Of course. Thank you, for everything you have done for our people."

It was then that I noticed that, unlike most of the wizards and witches around us, she was not in robes, but a fashionable, yet clearly muggle, outfit. "You're muggleborn," I realized.

She nodded again, smiling slightly. "Yes, I am. Like you, my parents are both non-magic. You see, that is why I needed to thank you. Many people believed that Voldemort was only Britain's problem and that we should not involve ourselves, but I knew better. If Britain was unable to stop him, he would have moved on to other countries next, killing anyone like us and our parents. But I never had to worry about that, because you helped to defeat him. So, thank you, Hermione Granger, for saving my life."

I was moved. I had never before thought about the implications Voldemort could have had on other countries, and I assumed that other countries never thought about him in turn. To hear Charlotte say these things, say that I saved her life, it was touching. I had no idea how to even begin to respond to that, so I simply said, "Would you like to sit?"

And she did.

Not only did I form my first personal connection in France that day, but I also formed a routine. From then on, Charlotte and I met for breakfast at that café nearly every day, sometimes spending the entire day together, sometimes just eating our breakfasts and going our separate ways. Slowly, I felt that aching loneliness ease its grip from around my heart.

Over the course of the next week, I learned that Charlotte's parents were muggles who owned a simple cottage in the French countryside. When I asked her how she spoke English so well, she informed me that her father was from America. He had come here for work straight out of university, met her mother and never left.

Her mother was a very mystic woman, and Charlotte had told me with a fond eyeroll that her mother claimed to have always known Charlotte was magical. "Of course, she couldn't have really known; we were all quite surprised when I was invited to attend Beauxbatons," Charlotte explained. I smiled nostalgically, remembering my families pleasant surprise that came the day Professor McGonagall knocked on our door.

Charlotte's father had been much more skeptical, reluctant to let her go off to some strange school that claimed to have magical powers. Eventually though, he did let her go, and so, Charlotte went to Beauxbatons and completed her schooling. "I finished just this year," she told me. "I chose to spend the summer in the city so that I could begin looking for work or apprenticeships."

"That sounds like a great idea. What would you like to do?" I asked her.

A light blush spread across her cheeks. "Oh, it is embarrassing."

I laughed lightly. "I am sure it isn't," I encouraged.

"Well, I would love to be a baker." She then crinkled her nose. "Oh, here I am with the Brightest Witch of Her Age, and I am telling her my dream is to bake pastries! How pathetic that must seem."

"No, no, not at all!" I placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "No dream is pathetic, especially not if you are actually chasing it. Besides," I sighed, "it isn't like the 'Brightest Witch of Her Age' is up to anything worthwhile these days."

Now it was Charlotte's turn to let out a light laugh at my expense. "You did help win a war; I believe that earns you a bit of a break."

I scrunched my face into a grimace. "Yes, I suppose that is a good point. Still, I've always had a difficult time sitting still."

"Hermione, you have done much more before the age of nineteen than a lot of wizards or witches do in their entire lives. This is your chance to relax, have fun!"

I scoffed. "That isn't really my style."

Charlotte sat up straighter, looking determined. "Well it is mine, and perhaps it should be yours, at least a little. You told me you came on this trip to move on from the War, no?"

I bit my lip, unsure if I liked where she was going with this. "Yes, I did…"

"Then tell me how you expect to be able to move on if you are unable to have fun?"

I hated when people used logic against me. "That would be difficult, I guess."

Charlotte brightened. "Exactly! Then it is settled."

My eyebrows knit together. Had I missed something? "What is settled?"

The grin Charlotte flashed me then reminded me eerily of Ginny. "I am taking you out with me this evening to have fun."

XXX

As it turned out, Charlotte's "fun" evening consisted of dragging me to a nightclub.

"Not just any nightclub, Hermione," she reminded me for the tenth time since we left the café this morning. "This is Chez Etoile! It is supposed to be the next hottest thing in Wizarding France, and tonight is the opening night. It is supposed to be very exclusive, but I got our names on the list thanks to an old friend from school."

I crinkled my nose. "I don't know, Char. Clubs just aren't really my thing."

Charlotte was wearing that grin again, the one that reminded me of Ginny before she got into trouble. "Hermione, that is because you have never been to a club with me. Come on, we will find some new outfits, and we can go back to my flat before-hand to get ready. I know just the spell to help keep your hair on good behavior."

Before I could protest, Charlotte was grabbing me by the hand, pulling me towards the boutiques. I stifled a groan. I hated shopping, but seeing the grin on Charlotte's face, I could hardly say no. Not that I thought that would stop her, anyway.

We were in and out of shops for the next hour. Charlotte had found a dress in the first shop. It was a slip style dress that was made of a black, satiny material that glimmered in the light. It flowed delicately over her, perfect for her tall, almost lanky frame. Dressing me was much more of a problem. Half of the clothes Charlotte chose I refused to even try on. When she handed me a see-through, lace, corset top, I merely leveled a gaze at her, refusing to even acknowledge the top with a comment. She held her hands up in surrender, and her suggestions were at least a little tamer after that. On the other hand, anything I liked and wanted to try on was immediately vetoed by Charlotte as boring or, my favorite, "It just doesn't have that certain, je ne sais quoi."

I rolled my eyes when she told me that. "That is the most stereotypical French thing I have ever heard."

Three shops later, we had finally agreed on an outfit for me to at least try on. I was staring at my reflection, testing the different angles, when Charlotte called, "Hermione, can you please let me see?!"

I regarded myself carefully in the mirror. The top had spaghetti straps and was made of a pale, olive green silk. It dipped a little low in the front, with the extra material pooling just below the little bit of cleavage that peaked out. I had paired it with a black skirt that reached to the middle of my thighs and was tight, but not so tight I couldn't move. It was definitely revealing – more revealing than anything I had ever worn before – yet I wasn't exactly uncomfortable. Out of my comfort zone, sure, but not so uncomfortable that I couldn't go out in this. And I had to admit, I looked pretty good. Stealing myself, I pulled back the curtain so that Charlotte could appraise my choice of outfit.

As soon as she saw me, her mouth and eyes popped open. She didn't say anything for a few moments, and I began fidgeting growing nervous under her gaze. After what felt like forever, she finally seemed to recover. "You need to buy that. Now."

"Really?" I asked, tugging the skirt down.

She rushed over to stop me. "Yes! You look incredible! Green is definitely your color."

I laughed. "I always thought I was more of a red person."

She shook her head. "Well from now on, you are buying more green."

I rang up my purchases, buying a pair of low heels to go with it. I was still doubtful about the outfit – it really was so unlike anything I had warn before – but Charlotte continued to reassure me it was the right purchase.

With our outfits decided, Charlotte brought me back to her flat to get ready. It was a cute one-bedroom on the outskirts of the city. As we grew closer, I realized that it was only a few blocks away from my hotel. "How funny, I'm living not very far from here," I voiced to Charlotte.

"What a coincidence!" She smiled as she unlocked the door. "Well, feel free to stop by whenever! My door is always open for you."

I returned her bright smile. "Thank you, and same to you, of course."

Flashing a glance in my direction, she said, "I will have to take you up on that."

It was still fairly early, so we decided to grab something to eat and relax before we began getting ready. When it got to be about two hours before we were supposed to leave, we decided it was time to begin. Charlotte sat me on the floor in front of her bed and went to work on my hair. I didn't have a mirror, so I had no idea what she was doing. From what I could tell, she was separating my hair into smaller sections, and repeatedly performing what I believed to be a smoothing spell. After several minutes of this, she declared that she was finished and allowed me to look in the mirror.

I stood hesitantly, approaching the mirror with caution; I always grew nervous when other people worked with my hair. When I finally grew the courage to raise my gaze, I let out a startled gasp. "Oh, Charlotte," I breathed. My hair fell over my shoulders and back in soft, smooth curls. It was frizz-free, and the controlled curls had added a bit of extra length. It even appeared shinier. "How on earth did you do that?" I wondered, gently fingering a curl, almost to make sure they were real.

Charlotte laughed as she got up to stand behind me in the mirror. "It was just a simple smoothing spell."

I turned on her. "But I've tried that spell a million times before and it never worked like this."

"Were you breaking your hair into sections to perform it?"

I shook my head. "No, I just did it over my whole head."

She smiled knowingly. "There is your problem. That is too much hair for the spell to work with. It's a strong spell but not that strong."

I turned to look in the mirror again. "I'll have to remember that," I murmured. "Thank you."

She squeezed my shoulders. "My pleasure. Now, let's work on your makeup!"

Over an hour later we were both ready to go. I had told Charlotte that I wasn't the biggest fan of wearing makeup, so she had applied just the barest amount, just enough to accent my features. She called it a "natural look". Charlotte was able to get herself ready in much less time than it took for me. She simply pulled her long hair into a sleek updo and applied very minimal makeup, seeing as her strong features didn't require a lot. Soon after that we were dressed and ready to go.

"Thank you for helping me get ready," I said as we prepared to apparate.

Charlotte flicked her wrist, as if waving my words away. "Oh, do not thank me; it was my pleasure. I never had a sister to do this stuff with."

"Me neither," I admitted, but as soon as I said it, I felt an ache in my chest and thought of a certain redhead back home. "Well, that isn't quite true. I don't have a biological sister, but I have a friend back home who is practically a sister to me. She helped me get ready for the dance we held in school one year." Thinking of Ginny made me feel bitter-sweet, as I associated the girl with happy memories, but, now that she was on my mind, I realized that I missed her terribly.

"Ah yes, Ron's sister."

I stared at Charlotte with wide eyes. I was certain I had yet to mention Ginny to her. "How -?"

She blushed. "I told you, I am an admirer of yours; I'm familiar with all of your close friends who played a part in the War. You were all in the news for weeks after the War."

I smiled with tight lips, still a bit uncomfortable that she appeared so familiar with those who were close to me. "Right, of course." I cleared my throat. "Well, should we go?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.

She nodded exuberantly. "Yes! I will apparate us; I am more familiar with the area."

In response, I linked my arm through hers, and only moments later I felt a tug deep in my stomach, and when I opened my eyes again, we were there.

As I looked around us, everything I saw only confirmed my belief that I would be out of my element tonight. There were a few people around who seemed to be similar to us, but, for the most part, I was certain that a lot of the outfits people wore cost more than my rent. The club had opened officially a half hour ago, but we had arrived "fashionably late" so we joined the short line of people giving their names to the person at the door. Beside this line, there was a much longer one that trailed along the side of the building, snaking into the alley beside it beyond my line of sight. "What's that line for?" I asked Charlotte, jerking my chin in the direction of the other line.

"That is for people trying to get in whose names aren't on the list."

I blinked in surprise. "Will they be able to get in?" I couldn't imagine all of those people being able to fit inside the building, in addition to the people who were on the list.

Charlotte laughed. "Oh, no, no. Only people who are on the list can get in."

My brow furrowed. "Then why are they waiting?"

She shrugged. "Just to say they almost got into the club, I suppose. Or possibly to catch a glimpse of some of the rich and famous coming in and out tonight."

I couldn't imagine waiting in a line all night, knowing it would lead nowhere, just for the sake of being able to say I did. I mean, we Gryffindors were known for doing some dumb things every now and again, but that was just idiotic.

Finally, it was our turn to give our names to the bouncer. Charlotte gave our names and spoke lightly to the large man in French for a moment, and then we were being ushered through the door. Practically the second my feet crossed the threshold, my senses were thrown into overdrive. A loud, thumping music filled the room, and, while the overall lights were dim, flashing, colorful lights lit up bits of the room sporadically. I had been comfortable in the light summer breeze outside, but between the heat of the bodies and the lack of air-flow in the room I was quickly growing too warm.

"Wow," I breathed.

Charlotte must have misunderstood the cause behind my proclamation, because she was smiling. "I know, isn't it incredible?" She had to bend down and practically yell in my ear to be heard. Before I could respond, she grabbed my hand and dragged me into the throng of bodies moving in the center of the room. It was all I could do just to stumble along after her as unease coiled in my stomach. I had a feeling this was going to be a long evening.

An hour later, I knew that feeling had been spot-on. I stood near Charlotte, still sipping my glass of merlot that I had gotten when we first came in. She had been dancing enthusiastically to the music all night, while I simply stuck to swaying. It wasn't as though I had anything against dancing – I actually really enjoyed dancing, I just preferred to do so with music I enjoyed instead of this bass-heavy club music. Charlotte had given up on attempting to get me to copy some of her wilder moves long ago, choosing to dance around me instead.

She had already turned away three men who had asked her to dance since we had been there. I knew she was doing it for my benefit, and I felt quite guilty, so when the fourth guy came around, I stopped her before she could wave him away. "Go ahead, I'm going to go outside for some air," I yelled into her ear.

She shot me a grateful look and nod before turning to pay attention to the interested guy.

It took me a little bit of time to squeeze and weave my way through the crowd to get to the door leading to the balcony. Twice some random person attempted to grab me, whether on purpose or because they were falling, I don't know, but both times I shook their hands off and quickly kept moving.

The relief as I stepped outside was almost instantaneous, taking effect just as quickly as my senses had been assaulted upon entering the club. I shut my eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath of the crisp night air. I felt my shoulders relax, tension release from my neck, and a small smile play at my lips against my will. Opening my eyes, I moved further out onto the balcony, the light and noise inside continuing to fade. It wasn't a particularly large space, but still spacious enough that me and a few other people could fit comfortably.

Wrapping my arms around myself as I adjusted to the sudden temperature drop, I walked slowly over to the railing. The view was breathtaking, showing bits of the historical buildings and La Seine in the distance. The city was softly aglow with the buildings' lights, but it didn't give off that harsh, artificial light. I had been here over two weeks now, yet still I hadn't grown used to the image of the city at night.

Leaning my elbows against the railing, I let myself relax and my thoughts drift to my journey so far. I had come here to heal, to rediscover myself, and to find happiness again. If I were being honest with myself, I hadn't been successful so far. Sure, spending time with Charlotte and seeing the magic of the City of Love had brought me moments of happiness, but no more than the moments I had found at home spending time with my loved ones. Although, leaving London had allowed me to escape that constant reminder of the War, which meant I no longer had that perpetual ache in my chest, but I was far from healed or happy. Still, when I went to sleep at night, that ache returned. When I was alone with my thoughts, they more often than not drifted to the War and those I lost. I continued to have nightmares, caught up in terrible memories, or memories twisted to have terrible endings. No, I was most certainly not healed.

I sighed. It has only been two weeks, Hermione; give yourself some time, I reminded myself. Healing, I knew, was a slow process. I had to be patient with myself. It would take time for me to be able to find my old self again. I decided then that I would make an extra effort starting the next day, immersing myself in very Hermione-esque activities. I would call my friends first thing in the morning – I was so happy I convinced them to buy mobiles – and then spend the day book shopping. Surely spending the day doing normal things that I had done before the War would help me feel like myself again.

Feeling much better with a plan in place, I straightened up, ready to go back inside. I looked toward the door leading back inside, and as soon as I saw the mass of bodies, I could practically feel the suffocating heat again. I frowned. Maybe a few more minutes outside wouldn't hurt.

I spun on my heel, ready to retake my post against the railing. When I had moved to go inside, apparently the man who had been immediately beside me had left as well, his absence revealing the person who had been standing on the other side of him. I stopped in my tracks, stifling a gasp at the sight of the last person I expected to see here.

"Malfoy?!"

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Dun dun dunnnn! You know what that means: next chapter is going to be the meeting. I am planning to post next week, but positive feedback always encourages me to write faster (wink wink). I'm really excited to share some of the stuff I have planned for the next few chapters, I just have to be able to find the time to work on them lol

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Follow/favorite if you want to know when updates are posted, but as of right now I think Tuesdays are going to be my regular update days.

Thanks for reading! :)