This update is a week late, and I'm going to be adjusting my updates to bi-weekly from now on, so I do apologize. Life is crazy right now and without going into details, suffice it to say that I can't commit to more than twice per month. Thank you for all the lovely reviews!
Whatever Draco had been expecting when they arrived, the Opéra Bastille was nothing like he'd imagined. Driving through the streets of Paris had been an eye-opening experience for him. As a rule, his parents would often take the international floo from the Ministry to the Rue de Magique, or in special cases, his Father would obtain permission from the French Ministry to have floo access from the Manor, and from there it was a short walk past the Wallace Fountain and into the 6th arrondissement of Wizarding Paris.
The Opéra Bastille however, was located in the 12th arrondissement, and in an area completely unfamiliar to him.
The building was an interesting piece of architecture, the circular facing and large windows were impressive, if a bit cold and austere.
Hermione smiled softly and Draco's gobsmacked expression, as his surprise was fairly self-evident.
"It's impressive, isn't it?"
"It's different," Draco admitted quietly, as their limousine pulled around the square and towards the drop off area near the front of their destination, "how old is it?"
"It was completed less than ten years ago, but the plans for the Opéra Bastille had been in the works for over a century. The Palais Garnier, is the original opera house, and was built over a century ago, during the time of Napoleon."
Draco glanced at her, and his brow furrowed as he inquired, "Your Father mentioned something about part of the Alphonse lands being taken by this Napoleon."
Hermione sighed and nodded, "It was a scary time for those who'd been born in the Noble Muggle Houses. Napoleon wasn't aware of Magic, nor the fact that the Alphonse's had Magic, but many of those who had claim to the French Throne were killed, mostly due to the Royalists, who were desperate to see the Throne reinstated."
"And your family managed to buy their freedom?"
"In a way," she replied evenly, "much of our land was taken as payment to prove our loyalty to Napoleon and his claim as Emperor, but from what my Father has shared, it was strictly a political move. After 1870, the last of the Bonaparte family, a nephew of Napoleon, was overthrown and the country has been led by a fractional republic ever since, which has consisted of encampments of political parties vying for power for over a century."
"Sounds complicated."
"It really is," Hermione agreed readily, "but if you're truly interested, we could spend some time going over the finer details. Truth be told, it's a very complex history."
"I'd like that." Draco replied with a firm nod.
At that moment their limousine stopped in front of the building and then the door to Draco's right opened up, with some kind of Muggle valet standing there, waiting for them to disembark.
Draco was first out, and then he held his hand out for Hermione, which she took effortlessly with a small smile of thanks. When she stepped out fully, several flashes of light blinded him momentarily, and his instincts kicked in. He pulled Hermione behind him, and felt her hand gripping his own tightly, her nails intently clawing into his skin, which caused him to blink rapidly, even as he gazed down at her worried expression.
It lasted for only a split second, but it was enough for him to know that he'd allowed his emotions to show on his face.
Taking a deep internal breath, his Occlumency shields slammed down instantly.
Hermione for her part, felt Draco's body freeze a split second before he pulled her behind him, and his entire body coiled like he was about to strike down the first person he saw. She gripped his hand tightly within her own, and could see Draco's emotions shutting down just as quickly as they'd surfaced.
Frankly, it was a bit disconcerting.
"You okay?" She whispered, and Draco nodded sharply, taking her arm within his own and leading her into the large foyer of the Opéra Bastille.
Draco had to admit, the interior of the Muggle building was just as impressive as the exterior. The large picture windows allowed him to see outside, but he was more intrigued with the view from within. Everything was so bright and stark, he had to squint to protect his eyes from the glare. Gazing up, he noticed the rotunda was illuminated with a kind of lighting he'd never seen before. As he gazed to his left, there was a large wooden counter with several people standing behind it, handing out some kind of parchment to several of the attendees. On the right, was a large staircase that looked as if it led to another level. There were large granite columns interspersed along the circular walkway, and he noticed a few discriminating shoppes parsed amongst the mezzanine.
Hermione led him over to their right, towards the staircases and he discreetly eyed a few of the attendees, who were openly staring at them both, and even some were pointing and whispering.
"Are you destined to attract attention wherever you go?" He murmured lowly, his tone slightly amused.
"Noticed that?"
"Hard not to, frankly."
"Hmmm," she shook her head, "you'd think I'd be used to it by now."
He glanced down into bright cinnamon eyes, and chuckled at Hermione's sly little grin.
"Do you ever get used to being gawked at like some kind of novelty?"
"No, I don't suppose anyone really ever does." She admitted quietly, as they started their ascent up towards the balcony seating.
When they reached the second level, there was a smaller room just adjacent on their left, that looked to be a private suite of some kind, and he wasn't surprised when she guided him in that direction. When they entered, there were several people already inside, about ten in all…a mixture of men and women, all dressed impeccably.
One of the men, whom had a balding hairline and a welcoming smile, moved over immediately to greet them.
"Hermione, chérie! Cela fait un moment que je ne t'ai pas vu!"
(Hermione, dear! It has been a while since I've seen you!)
"Monsieur le Président, comment allez-vous?"
(Mr. President, how have you been?)
"Aussi bien que possible en matière de politique, mais je suis sûr que votre père a partagé certaines choses, n'est-ce pas? Et qui est ce gentil monsieur à votre bras ce soir?"
(As well as can be when dealing with politics, but I'm sure your Father has shared a few things, yes? And who is this fine gentleman on your arm this evening?)
"S'il vous plaît, permettez-moi de vous présenter mon rendez-vous, Monsieur. C'est Draco Malfoy. Draco, voici le président Jacques Chirac."
(Please allow me to introduce you to my date, Sir. This is Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is President Jacques Chirac)
Draco bowed formally, and then was surprised when the Muggle held out his hand for him to shake, which he did effortlessly, offering, "Je suis heureux de faire votre connaissance, Monsieur."
(I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir)
The older Muggle nodded politely, and then introduced his wife, Bernadette, who kissed Hermione's cheeks in greeting as if they were old friends.
"Tu es plus belle chaque fois que je te vois, petit oiseau." Bernadette stated with great alacrity.
(You look lovelier every time I see you, little bird).
"Tout comme vous, madame. Tu dois me dire ton secret, car à chaque fois que je te vois c'est comme si tu n'avais pas vieilli d'un jour!" Hermione winked and Bernadette laughed joyously, while Draco just smirked and Jacques shook his head fondly.
(As do you, madame. You must tell me your secret, as everytime I see you it's like you haven't aged a day!)
A throat not so subtly cleared behind Draco and he glanced over his shoulder to see another Muggle standing there with a tall, slender woman who had long red hair and bright green eyes. He felt Hermione stiffening slightly, and her expression shifted to a more neutral one as she looked the man's way and nodded in a perfunctory manner, stating in French, "Hello, Jean-Baptiste."
"Hermione, it's been a while since you've graced us with your presence."
Draco considered the man who was staring at Granger with an in expression that was a mixture of aggression and something else he wasn't sure he could name. This Jean-Baptiste d'Orléans, was younger than he was expecting, and about two inches taller than himself. He had a full head of thick dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes that were filled with a haughty arrogance that was instantly recognizable.
Lifting his chin up slightly, he glared at the man when his sharp blue gaze landed upon him. Draco had lived with the Dark Lord in his home, so as intimidating as this Muggle liked to think he was, he was no match for a Malfoy.
"Won't you introduce me to your date?"
"Of course. Jean-Baptiste, this is Draco Malfoy."
Jean lifted an eyebrow, and asked condescendingly in English, "A Brit?"
Draco chuckled and replied back in perfect French, "I was born in Britain, but my family originally hailed from Marseille before my ancestor Armand traversed across the pond."
"And what brought him there?" Jean queried in French.
"He was right hand to William the Conqueror, and my family was given extensive lands by the Crown for their loyal service."
Jean chuckled deeply, then offered, "So a traitor to the French?"
Draco smirked, and returned Jean's look with an even more pompous one of his own, "More like an opportunist. Malfoy's have always been attracted to power, and we're the consummate preservationists…however, we have been known on occasion to follow our hearts above all else."
He glanced down at Hermione and winked, causing her to blush, while Bernadette cooed and whispered teasingly, "Ah, jeune amour!" Which only served to deepen Hermione's delectable rosy shade, which was now making its way down her décolletage quite enticingly.
She bit her lip and stared up at Draco, while Jean's expression deepened into one of anger.
Jacques however, seemed to be more amused than anything.
Then the lights flickered, halting their conversation.
"It would seem the performance is about to begin," Bernadette spoke up, taking her husband's proffered arm with relish, "I will see you soon for tea, yes?"
"Of course," Hermione nodded, "I've missed our talks."
"Bring your handsome young suitor with you, little bird…I would like to spend a bit more time getting to know the young man who can make you blush so beautifully!"
Draco chuckled, while Hermione just waggled her finger playfully at the older woman, who's smile was radiant.
As they were about to head to their seats, Jean waylaid them, asking, "Will you be attending the Grand Prix this year?"
"Yes, Papa invited Draco to attend as well."
Jean's lips pursed, but he simply nodded before he left with his date, whom hadn't been formally introduced.
Draco watched the man leave, and his brow furrowed.
"Was that his wife?"
"No, she's the flavor of the month."
A shite-eating grin spread over Draco's face as he responded with, "Retract those claws, kitten."
Hermione just shrugged, completely unrepentant. "He's an arse, and reminds me very much of the school version of Draco Malfoy."
"Oh? Charming, debonair and intelligent?"
"No, I was thinking more along the lines of prattish, brutish and altogether unlikeable."
"Ouch!"
"True."
"Debatable."
She huffed, but the corner of her mouth twitched up, and Draco could see her eyes sparkling with a level of mischievousness, that he didn't think he'd ever noticed before.
Probably because he'd never taken the time to notice before.
They reached their seats just as the lights dimmed, and for the next three hours, they enjoyed the ballet. Draco was impressed with the dancers, how effortlessly they moved and how emotional the music melded with the essence of the dancing.
It was a different kind of magic, and one he enjoyed immensely.
He also enjoyed the look of utter rapture on Hermione's face, as she followed the steps of the choreography, her hands twirling slightly and her legs seemingly moving instinctively to the heart beat of the strains of sound.
Then he remembered her words from some weeks ago, stating that she'd trained in ballet.
When the performance was over, and they were making their way back outside, he asked quietly, "Just how good were you?"
Her head shot up in surprise, and her eyes narrowed in confusion as she replied, "I'm sorry, good at what?"
"Ballet? How good were you?"
She blushed again, but shook her head and then shrugged, before she remarked, "I was quite proficient at it, but like my other Muggle extracurriculars, once I'd gone to school, it made it difficult to keep up with my lessons. Summers were filled with reading, ballet, music and voice…but I preferred spending time with Zephyr and riding around the estate, or going to the Burrow, when my Father would allow me to."
Their car pulled up, and they got in, ignoring the flashes of photography from many of the paparazzi outside. Once they were one their way, Draco inquired with interest, "Would you be open to showing me sometime?"
Hermione turned to him in surprise, but she could tell immediately that he was truly curious, and wasn't trying to use this as a means to tease her.
"Perhaps," she replied, "I might need to practice a bit before I allow anyone to observe me. Like I said, it's been a while."
"Fair enough." He then decided to broach the subject that had been on his mind as of late, "Would you mind if I asked you something?"
"Okay?"
He turned to face her fully, and took her hand within his, fiddling with it for a moment before trying to summon every ounce of bravery left inside of him, as he shared, "I know this between us is new territory, and I know we have a huge history that is going to take time to get past…I want to, Hermione. Really!" He offered, at her look of surprise, "I know I told you that I'm not one to share my feelings, and I abhor vulnerability, but I do tend to think that my Slytherin nature isn't going to help me being surrounded by Gryffindors."
Hermione considered Draco, and his words carefully, before she replied, "Why do I feel this has to do with Harry, too?"
"How could it not?" He admitted frankly, "As much as I've tried to deny this connection we all share, I can't lie to myself. My past with you and with Potter…well, there's not much to build any kind of foundation on."
"No, I don't suppose there is," she agreed, "but it would help me to know if there was some reasoning for why you were…" her voice fell away, and Draco nodded.
"I know, and I can't lie to you and tell you that it was just about blood purity, or part of the inherent Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry."
"But blood purity was a big part of it, yes?" Draco's gaze shifted, and Hermione could see his expression closing off slightly, and she gripped his hand to regain his attention. "Look, Draco—I know what it's like to live with the weight of expectation. As Hermione Alphonse, my life was carved out since I was a young girl. As Hermione Granger, my friendship with Harry placed me in a position where I couldn't meld into the background even if I'd wanted to. I never expected to become best friends with Harry, and my Father wasn't happy about it at all."
Draco chuckled ruefully, and shook his head at how ironic life could be sometimes.
"My Father literally demanded I make friends with Potter first year. Needless to say, that didn't happen and he wasn't pleased with me at all."
They both shared a quiet moment of commiseration, but eventually, Hermione wondered aloud, "If you could go back and change one thing?"
Draco thought about that question sincerely for a few moments but then concluded that he couldn't really change anything, if it meant his parents wouldn't be alive and free from Voldemort's clutches.
Well perhaps there was one thing…
"I don't know if change is the word you're looking for, Hermione. I have regrets, many of them…but how can I answer in all honesty when I have to wonder if changing even the simplest thing might've effected the end result. My parents are alive, and that was all I'd wanted when I agreed to take the Dark Mark. I might've been spared that travesty had my Father not gone to Azkaban, but who knows. Potter with your help, won the war. We survived—bruised, broken and a bit more self-reflective…at least in my case. I'm not a good wizard, love. I'm a Slytherin through and through, but I am loyal to those I care about."
"I do know that, Draco—and for what it's worth, Harry knows it too."
"It's going to be tough, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Potter and me, finding common ground?"
Hermione smirked, and replied cheekily, "I think you two might just surprise each other."