Alrighty, so here goes nothing. All French translations are at the bottom, I apologize to anyone if it's mangled, I may have majored in French and lived there for two years, but my grammar is pathetic.

Chapter 7:

September 1, 1999

Hermione really didn't want to be where she was at present. Really, anywhere else … anyone else would be preferable. Who on the planet would want to be stuck indoors, underground in Paris, with Lucius Malfoy of all people? Hermione snorted to herself. Had anyone told her that was where she would end up, she would have laughed in their face. She loved Paris, and she loved libraries. She did not love Lucius Malfoy. She barely withstood his presence.

Having arrived in Paris that morning, they had been enclosed in the Ministry for almost 5 hours attempting to scour the laws and reactions against the werewolves in France. Deciding to start with the other larger European powers, she and Malfoy had determined that a short day trip to the French Ministry was in order, simply for surveillance and feeling out the potential for change. Hermione had been surprised at Malfoy's connections within even the French Ministry; although, she knew she probably shouldn't have been. The man was a veritable walking diplomatic library.

Her stomach grumbled slightly and Hermione blushed, hoping that Malfoy hadn't heard the indecent sound. She hadn't realised she was that hungry, but apparently her stomach was starting to override her brain. She glanced up and noticed the smirk hovering over Malfoy's mouth. Grumbling she muttered, "Pardon."

He glanced up, eyes pretending to be surprised, "Hmm, did you say something?"

She rolled her eyes, "Nevermind, have you found anything useful? I've found the basic law code and the changes made in the last twenty years, but I'm stumped on the general cultural feelings towards werewolves."

He rolled his eyes, "Of course you haven't; that's hardly going to be in one of your precious books. I've uncovered some of the earlier accounts of the 'loup-garou' or werewolf in France, but the feelings and opinions towards them will only be found by actually talking to sorcièrs français." He smirked at her from across the table, "Which could potentially be difficult for you Miss Granger, since I highly doubt fluent French is within your repertoire."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up and she was about to respond when her stomach gave another loud rumble. She blushed and said bitingly, "Perhaps we could save this discussion for lunch; it seems my stomach could use a sandwich at the very least."

The austere blond man nodded his head condescendingly and replied, "Of course, why don't we go to a small café I know of in Le Chemin de Traverse," he mock blinked and said in a sneering tone, "the Diagon Alley of Paris that is."

Hermione gave him a scathing look, "Yes, Lucius I realized that. I'm not completely ignorant of other cultures, as much as you would like to believe it."

He snorted and pushed his chair away, grasped his cane in one hand and gestured impatiently with the other, "Shall we Hermione? The sooner we get that voracious appetite of yours appeased, the sooner we can finish this project."

Hermione after throwing her cloak on over her favorite pale green work dress robes, huffed passed him, outraged that he would blame her for postponing their work. Well, I'm sorry that I'm human enough to want food during the day, she thought sarcastically. We can't all be perfect pureblooded vampires that feed at night. She almost growled in frustration when she realised she had no clue which way Malfoy wanted to go, and so was forced to wait for him to saunter up and take the lead – right eyebrow arched as high as ever. I swear I'm going to find him and shave that eyebrow off someday … just you wait Lucius Malfoy, just you wait.

Lucius Malfoy was rather enjoying the trip to Paris. As he had been so many times before, he was pleased to simply be able to relax and focus on work. Granted, the little muggleborn that the gods had decided to punish him with was decidedly annoying and uncultured, but he figured that he was a patient enough man to persevere. She was a feisty little thing, he had decided, never willing to back down from a proper insult like cultured people, and she gave as good as she got generally – something that normally threw Lucius for a loop.

He couldn't quite make up his mind about her. He disliked her of course; being a mud … muggleborn meant that she was quite below him in everything social. However, she had proven herself adequate in the ways of intelligence, not that he was surprised since the little bint had been ahead of his son every year at Hogwarts. He disapproved of her poor social circle as well … obviously, but one must forgive what the ignorant do not know to avoid. The puffy-haired, petite witch rather intrigued him. He couldn't fathom what drove the thing to continue on like a niffler, but he had to respect the fact that she had never really broken under pressure.

He flinched slightly and brought his thoughts away from the events of a year ago, unready even still to examine the months of his final shame at the hands of his former master. Marching down the cobbled streets, he maintained a sneer in place, firmly striking the stones with his austere cane. He smirked as some of the passing French witches followed his movements with their eyes, completely casting over the petite frizzy-haired thing at his side. He glanced down at the witch that was hurrying alongside his longer strides, and marveled that even in walking she wouldn't let him be other than an equal – even if she had to jog to keep up.

Abruptly he turned right into a larger alleyway and Hermione had to veer to avoid knocking over a rather nasty-looking hag. He paused at the door and tapped his foot lightly, intimating that she was making them late once more. She rolled her eyes at him as she passed through the open door, but said nothing.

The café was well lit and not highly populated, mostly the last vestiges of the lunch crowd, milling over wine and cheese after their meals. The head waiter led them to a small table at the back and provided them with menus. Lucius grinned inwardly and wondered how long it would take the younger witch to ask for help with the French.

He wasn't given the satisfaction as they both sat in silence for about five minutes, 'looking' over the menus until the waiter came back and took their orders. Lucius, however, interceded before Hermione had the chance to answer the waiter's question of what she wanted with a reply of, "Deux de la royale et médaillon de crabe au vinaigre balsamique, avec la crème de haricots blancs. Aussi pour le dessert, nous voudrions un du chocolat soufflé, et un du millefeuille, s'il vous plaît."

The waiter nodded, and Hermione gaped at him, "What was that for?! I can order for myself thank you very much!"

Lucius held back another snort, "I did not want to be embarrassed by your poor attempts at French, mademoiselle, I felt that I should guide you towards the finer things on the menu."

Hermione was truly beyond words. That man is so infuriating … "Well then, I suppose I owe you thanks for taking care to relieve me of my embarrassment potential," she bit out, staving off her outrage. She glanced around the café for anything to take her mind off turning the man's hair in front of her green. She saw a magazine left by an earlier luncheon group and grinned rather maliciously, so that's why he's so on edge …Draco left with his mum – how pathetic for him. Even his family can't stand him.

Lucius saw the malevolent glint in the hazel eyes of his counterpart and followed her eye line to the magazine showing pictures of his ex-wife and son socializing in Rome. His face hardened perceptibly and his grey eyes iced over. In an almost frost-bitten voice he asked, "Well, shall we talk about the project? Perhaps outline how we could find the opinions of the people at a larger scale, or do you have a better idea?"

Hermione glanced back, startled at the change in the man's tone and grimaced at how hard his visage looked, "Erm, well I suppose we could start at the top, interacting with the Ministry workers who deal with the werewolves. Do you perhaps have any contacts in France that aren't connected with the Ministry? Could we, or you, perhaps talk to them?" She was biting her lower lip in concentration and he could see the wheels turning under her mop of brown hair.

He sniffed, "You do realize that anyone in either of those two groups is going to be Pureblooded?"

Hermione's gaze shot back to his, "Of course I realize that Lucius. I'm not an idiot, nor am I ignorant. I also realize that their opinions are as important as anyone else's. I comprehend the fact that they will most likely be unwilling to speak with me, and I also grasp the fact that you will probably have to do the most talking, for which I apologize." She pulled her hair back into a neat bun, securing it with angry motions, "However, I don't think you realize something. I don't hate purebloods, I don't resent purebloods; I resent the fact that most view me as below them. I even respect purebloods, they've grown up in a culture entirely different from my own and I could stand to learn a lot from their traditions and beliefs. The problem I find is that the respect is not returned by many. Therefore, I do want to know and learn the opinions that French purebloods have on werewolves; because, they can probably give me a lot of information, not only about today's society, but also about that of years passed – where the prejudices have descended from," she finished her rant by piercing her crab cake with her fork; the waiter having brought the food in the middle of her "discussion."

Lucius looked slightly surprised, "I had no idea Miss Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes once more and stared piercingly at the senior Malfoy, "We are working together, and will be working together for a rather long time; therefore, I think it would be more appropriate to call me by my first name – Hermione,Lucius."

He sighed and fingered his velvet black robe, "I understand that, however, you must understand. You are one, much younger than I; two, not seen generally in my social circle; and three, an unmarried female. It is considered improper for me or you to address the other in such informal terms. I gather that you were raised to believe it is not; however, I have followed that rule for my lifetime and I shall find it hard to break starting now."

Hermione nodded, understanding finally entering her mind, "Ah, of course. Then I apologize. I did not realize. Well, why don't we use our family names then? I only ask that you use 'Ms.' versus 'Miss;' in the Muggle world, that denotes a younger, underage female." Hermione was more than willing to make a compromise that would ensure continued semi-peace within their work.

Lucius nodded, "I see. That shall work fine for me. I appreciate your understanding."

Hermione nodded and bit into the steaming hot chocolate soufflé that had just been set in front of her. She felt the warm, soft texture of the cake melt on her tongue blend with the pistachio and chocolate crème and moaned softly, closing her eyes at the wonderful cake in her mouth.

Lucius' eyes shot up from his own desert of millefeuille, a traditional French dish, to see the younger witch practically swooning over the soufflé. Had he just heard her … moan? Sweet Circe, she did! Gods, that's not fair. Starved for attention and company for five years and you decide now to put in front of me a witch that is not only twenty-five years younger and decidedly disliked by myself, but who is practically climaxing from a mere taste of chocolate?!

Lucius screwed up his face and tried to concentrate on finishing his meal. Clearly I need to get out more. Perhaps I will attend that gala this weekend …he heard Hermione's breathless, "Oh my Merlin, that's amazing. I wouldn't mind having that in me every day for the rest of my life!"

Lucius choked on the bite in his mouth and while attempting to catch his breath thought desperately, Yes, definitely a go for the gala … merciful Merlin, get me out of here!

Later that evening as the two were heading out of the French Ministry's library, they encountered the French Ministry also leaving for the day.

Lucius smiled genially and shook the outstretched hand, "Bonsoir Ministre, comment faits-vous? Avez-vous un jour productif ? »

The portly, graying French minister nodded jovially, « Oui, oui. Très long … mais c'est normal, n'est-ce pas? Et vous, Mademoiselle, comment vous appelez-vous ? » he asked turning towards Hermione.

Before Lucius could cut in to provide the answer, Hermione responded in perfectly accented, fluent French, « Je m'appelle Hermione. C'est un long nom, je sais," she said laughing. "Nous sommes si heureux d'avoir la chance de voir votre bibliothèque ! Merci, merci ! »

The Minister replied happily, « Oui oui, c'est une chose petite. Je suis content de montrer la bibliothèque de France ! Mais ma belle, vous parlez comme une française, comment?"

Hermione grinned and glanced at Lucius' shocked face for a moment, « J'ai habité à Dijon pendant trois ans avant de retourner à Londres pour aller au Poudlard. Je retourne chaque été pour visiter mes grands-parents en Lyon. D'où venez-vous Ministre ? »

The Minister and Hermione continued on happily for several minutes, while Lucius attempted to wrap his mind around the fact that Hermione was not only speaking fluent French, but probably had a better command of it than him as well. He couldn't believe he had misjudged her that poorly.

He shook his head slightly as the Minister said his goodbyes and walked off, leaving the two Brits to make their own ways home. Lucius walked silently next to Hermione for a few moments before saying quietly, "Perhaps you would enjoy dinner before heading back to London? I believe I have more to learn about mere muggleborns."

Hermione turned at looked at him in shock before grinning slightly, "Oh you do Mr. Malfoy, you certainly do. However, I did not warn anyone that I would be gone so late, and so I find that I must hurry back and face a flurry of questions as to why I was not present in the English Ministry of Magic today. My own fault really, as I didn't tell them I was coming here with you, but really it was so much simpler to just avoid it." She rolled her eyes, and looked up at him, "I shall bid you adieu, Monsieur. À demain!"

And with that, she popped out of sight, leaving Lucius reeling and wondering what the hell had happened that day. He shrugged, apparated home, took down his finest bottle of fire whiskey and commenced his own all night party of inner-questioning and loathing.

A/N:

"Bonsoir Ministre, comment faits-vous? Avez-vous un jour productif ? » - Good Evening Minister, how are you? Did you have a productive day?

« Oui, oui. Très long … mais c'est normal, n'est-ce pas? Et vous, Mademoiselle, comment vous appelez-vous ? » Yes, yes. Long, but that's normal, no? And you Miss. what is your name?

« Je m'appelle Hermione. C'est un long nom, je sais," My name is Hermione. It's a long name, I know.

"Nous sommes si heureux d'avoir la chance de voir votre bibliothèque ! Merci, merci ! » We were so thankful to be able to look at your library! Thank you, thank you!

« Oui oui, c'est une chose petite. Je suis content de montrer la bibliothèque de France ! Mais ma belle, vous parlez comme une française, comment?" Yes, yes it's a small favor. I'm happy to show the French library! But my lovely lady, you speak like a Frenchwoman, how?

« J'ai habité à Dijon pendant trois ans avant de retourner à Londres pour aller au Poudlard. Je retourne chaque été pour visiter mes grands-parents en Lyon. D'où venez-vous Ministre ? » I lived in Dijon for three years before returning to London a year before going to Hogwarts. I return each summer to visit my grandparents in Lyon. Where are you from Minister?

"A demain" Until tomorrow.