Chapter 8
Having breakfast together was wonderful. Hermione sat between Lucius and Severus munching on a croissant and glancing up happily at the two men. Both of whom were absorbed in their perspective reading materials and Hermione thrilled at the pleasant domesticity that easily fell between the three of them.
Lucius caught her eye over his newspaper and his lips quirked before he spoke. "I hope you don't mind us abandoning you today my darling – but Severus and I have some potion distilleries to scope out."
Hermione's brow rose at this, "I don't mind – I just didn't realise you were in business together."
Severus snorted. "Lucius has always benefited from my knowledge as a Potions Master Miss Granger."
"Well, you know what they say about business and pleasure Severus," Lucius teased. "I believe, Miss Granger, it is prudent at this juncture to move some of my more controversial potion manufacturing over to the continent whilst rebuilding the Malfoy brand – and I will be requiring Severus' expertise today."
"Its fine!" Assured Hermione. "I really do need to write to Harry and Ron and tell them where I am."
"Of course." Agreed Lucius. "And what else will you be filling your day with my dear?"
Hermione picked apart her croissant and considered his words. "I'll probably have a walk round – see the city a little. I'm not sure – I haven't really decided."
"Hm? Then may I make a suggestion?" Lucius asked as he fished around in his robes before producing a small black card with embossed silver writing. "This is the address for a wizarding department store. I'll owl ahead and let them know you're coming. Feel free to pamper yourself and purchase anything you require, and it will be charged to my account."
"Lucius! I couldn't possibly!"
Malfoy laughed and brought his teacup to his lips. "One of these days I am going to have to take you and Severus to task about how to accept gifts."
"She probably just doesn't want to go to the same hairdresser as you Lucius. Honestly, the amount of peroxide they must use on you- surely leaves an ungodly smell." Sarked Snape as he chewed his toast and honey.
Lucius looked thoroughly scandalized by his comment. "I can assure you – I have never dyed my hair!"
"You're getting terribly vain in your old age man." Blinked Severus.
Lucius pouted. "I am not old. Do tell him off for me Hermione – he's much less likely to hex you."
Hermione eyed Severus with mock seriousness, enthralled with their gentle banter. "I'm not sure if even I'm brave enough to tell off Severus Snape."
"You could always try it and see what happens little witch." Purred Severus from behind his dark curtains of hair.
Feeling a little foolish but not wanting to back down, Hermione rose from her chair and deposited herself in her former professor's lap. With great care she threaded her hands through his inky locks so that her arms rested on his shoulders, and they looked at one-another nose to nose. "Sev?" she asked prettily – making a show of batting her eyelashes.
"Yes?"
"Please. Be. Nice. To. Lucius." She cajoled whilst peppering his face with kisses.
"Fine. I will play nice with the blustering peacock."
"-Hey!" Lucius protested.
"That is as good as you're going to get – c'mon man, we best head off." Said Severus before giving Hermione a bruising kiss goodbye.
Lucius rose from his position at the head of the table. "Oh! And Hermione – please buy yourself something to make Severus come in his trousers when he sees you. I have dinner reservations for us at eight thirty. We'll meet you at the hotel bar across the road at eight."
Hermione huffed out a laugh as she waved off her two men – daunted by the prospect of shopping in Paris. Then, after completing her morning ablutions she trotted to the office to write her letter.
The library/office room was gorgeous, and for a few moments Hermione allowed herself to stroke along the shelves of leather encased books. Eventually, she stopped procrastinating and steeled herself to write to her best friends.
Dear Harry and Ron,
I hope that, all things considered, this letter finds you well. Apologies for my quick departure from Britain but it was rather last minute as Lucius wanted to see to some business here in Paris. I've accompanied the Professor and Mr Malfoy here as…
(Best not to be too honest, she thought.)
The two of them have agreed to mentor me - in a fashion. It really only occurred to me after the final battle that I need to be in the room where the decisions about Wizarding Britain are being made. So, it is my hope to run for the office of Minister after all the trials have concluded. I want to use the fame from my role in the war to affect real and lasting change in our world. Not just for muggle-borns but for everybody. I know that I'm young – but I really think I can do it.
Given everything we went through I think I'm coping okay. I hope you two are as well – and are taking advantage of Molly's cooking!
I know there is still a lot unresolved in England and I would appreciate it if you could send me word when all the funerals are taking place. I will make arrangements for Portkeys to be there.
I love you and miss you both so much. I hope that we can be together soon – maybe even travel a bit? Although I'm sure you'd agree with me- that I never want to see another tent ever again.
Also, I still need to sort out the business with my parents and I'd like it if you guys came with me to find them?
Sending everyone my love -your devoted friend,
Hermione
Satisfied with her letter, Hermione summoned the house elf that Lucius had introduced her to before breakfast. "Peep?" She called.
Suddenly there was an answering crack and a little brown elf, the colour of toffee, appeared. "Bonjour Mademoiselle Hermione, issa you be vanting somethink?"
"Yes please Peep. Can you please get this letter delivered to The Burrow in Ottery St Catchpole?"
The little elf bobbed into a curtsey, making her feather duster dress flutter as she took Hermione's letter with both hands. "Peep would be honoured to do that for the Mademoiselle!"
"Merci Peep!" Hermione smiled down at the little creature.
Eventually Hermione left the apartment and found herself exploring Paris unaided. The magic of the city was undeniable, and she breathed in deeply at the life all around her. This is what they had all fought so steadfastly for; life in all of its chaos bloomed around her. The bells of Montmartre sang out and filled up her senses. For a few hours she was content to wander the streets aimlessly, sampling pastries and coffee whilst she watched the artists trying to distil the elusiveness of the moment in their varied work of charcoal or watercolour.
With a glance down at her watch, she realised she should probably do as Lucius had insisted and set about the business of procuring herself something suitable to wear for dinner. After following some chic older women, that were clearly witches to those in the know, she came to the magical quatre of Paris.
The entrance to the French Wizarding world of Place Cachee was located by ducking underneath a bronze statue. As Hermione surfaced out into the hidden sixth district she was impressed by the architecture of the streets. Even though a lot of the shops were similar to Hogsmeade and Diagon Ally; there was a uniquely Parisian charm to the way that the assembled witches and wizards also indulged in the café culture; lining the pavements with tables and chairs – amicably chatting amongst themselves. Paying no mind to the occasional owl that swooped overhead.
Hermione dug into her pockets for the card that Lucius had given her at the breakfast table. She scrunched her nose as she read the italic font, not sure which way to go; when she was approached by a young witch and wizard around her age.
"Es-tu perdu bébé?" The young wizard asked while the willowy girl at his side looked a bit put-out. He reminded Hermione a little of Draco as he was dressed in a dishevelled fashion that looked anything but thrown on.
"Erm… pardon moi, mon français n'est pas très bon." Hermione replied sweetly.
"Oh – you are English?" Said the girl, not looking at all shocked.
"Guilty!" Hermione threw up her hands in mock surrender.
"On your holidays?" The boy continued, with his eyes drifting just a little bit lower than what Hermione would consider friendly.
"Well its sort of an extended stay at the moment." She supplied.
"C'est top!" Exclaimed the boy before touching his cheeks to both of Hermione's. "Well, welcome to Paris meuf! Allow me to be making the introductions. Je m'appelle Rio and my friend is Babette."
Hermione waved her hands a little, slightly put out with the boy's forwardness. Babette didn't look too pleased either, even as she too kissed Hermione on both cheeks.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Hermione."
"Ah! You speak a language that I understand not: My life stands in the level of your dreams, Which I'll lay down." Said the girl assessing Hermione.
"Oh! You know my namesake then?" Hermione smiled.
In spite of herself Babette smiled back. "Oui- I should hope so, I am an actress." And she pointed a little ways off to a squashed looking theatre on the street.
"We were just on our way for a drink. Babette is not due back at the theatre until six- would you like to come with us cherie?" Rio asked.
Babette hissed at him. "Arrête De Te La Péter!"
Hermione frowned. "Thank you – ordinarily I would probably take you up on that. I don't know anyone in the city and it would be nice to hang out - but I'm afraid I need to find this place." She presented them with the little black business card.
"Ahh it is not far – about five minutes' walk if you go left and follow the road round." Babette said.
"We'll walk you!" Rio grinned with a flirtatious smile.
"Non Rio! We're going the opposite way. Leave Hermione to 'er shopping. Picking up something for your boyfriend?"
Rio looked terribly invested in her answer and Hermione was impressed by the other girl's clever inquiry. "Boyfriends actually." She flashed them a wicked grin.
Babette's eyebrows raised. "Well you are certainly the most interesting English girl I have met. Drop by the theatre anytime! I would very much like to do the hanging out with you if you are still in town. Salut Hermione!"
"Salut!" Said a very sulky looking Rio as he trotted off down the street, after the disappearing form of Babette and her long shiny black hair.
Hermione followed Babette's directions until she came to a grand old building that reminded her very much of Gringotts. Just don't fly off with any dragons this time and you'll be fine, she thought to herself as she eased her way through the rotating door. Once inside, Hermione felt a little out of place in the very high end shop that was decked out in black marble. As she made her way around the womenswear department her footsteps seemed to tap out her unease treacherously.
"Mademoiselle Granger I presume?" Asked a pinched looking older woman, she wore a two-piece suit with grey piping and the sleeves flared out to flash red nails. Her salt-and-pepper hair was also expertly coiffed and piled high on her head. The overall effect was very authoritative.
"Erm- yes," Hermione answered.
"Monsieur Malfoy told me to expect you. I am Madame Regina – and I manage this store. Is there anything I can assist you with today?"
Hermione sighed. "Madame Regina, in all honesty I'm a bit out of my depth here. I have no idea about clothes and style. I'm not even sure where to begin."
The manageress smiled mildly at the girl's admission. "Do not trouble yourself. I can select some things out for you whilst you are in the salon." The witch slowly began to walk round Hermione. "Yes, there is a lot to work with -you have good bone structure and a pleasant figure. But tell me cherie, what do you want the clothes to do for you? Seduce? Intimidate?"
Hermione considered the witch's words. "I- want to look chic. Like I know what I'm doing and know what I want."
Madame Regina pursed her lips. "You came to the right place then. Come along then Mademoiselle – I will take you to the salon."
Hermione followed after the wise older woman, until they stopped at the salon's entrance that was carved ornately in an art deco style. Madame Regina breezed through the door and indicated for Hermione to sit in one of the vacant chairs
"I will send up some make-up momentarily but for now I will leave you in very capable hands- Philippe!" Said Madame Regina with a click of her heals and gesturing to a very polished looking hairdresser.
The young man smiled pleasantly at Hermione. "Bonne après-midi! What can I do for you today Mademoiselle?"
Hermione started at her reflection in the mirror, contemplating. "I want to look completely different. Something fresh -maybe even something a little French?"
Phillipe began gathering up her curls in his hands. "You have very pretty eyes and freckles, but they are being hidden away by all this." Then he brough his hands to the back of her head, to pull the hair away. "I think I would like to very much cut all of this away and add some colour. Make it short – like erm Jean Seberg!"
"Huh! My middle name is Jean."
"Ahhh then that is a sign to do it then." Laughed Phillipe.
Hermione reached for one of her curls like a comfort blanket. "Oh… I don't know?"
"Eck… you British girls are always comzing 'ere to live out your fantasies. But you only go part way." Huffed Phillipe. "Allez, prends ton courage a deux mains!"
Hermione stilled herself. Surveying the little girl staring back at her in the mirror. She'd essentially had the same appearance since she was in primary school. Long frizzy hair, it was her most defining feature.
Good old steadfast Hermione. Hermione who never acted like one of those silly vain girls. Hermione, who wasn't interested in boys. Hermione Granger, perpetually innocent and predictable. "Okay – okay. Let's do it!"
"Enculer! Okay? You wontz regretz this Mademoiselle!" Grinned Phillipe.
The magical clippers buzzed approvingly, and Hermione said goodbye to the little girl in the mirror as one by one- the locks fell to the floor.