Only Time

We also want to thank all of those have reviewed chapter one (you know who you are...) Your kind words mean a lot!  

* * * * *

Somewhere along Champs Elysees Avenue, Paris.
Christmas day, 2005

* * * * *

“So there we were, eleven year old kids, stuck in a girls’ bathroom with a big ugly troll who wanted nothing more than to have all three of us for dinner!” Ron said as he excitedly recalled the first year experience that founded their friendship.

Sandrinne was fascinated; she had heard stories from the wizarding world before, but Ron’s made them all  fade in comparison. She also enjoyed watching the boyish enthusiasm that settled across his face as he recited his childhood adventures --  it made him seem all the more fun and mischievous.

“Yet somehow I know he’s the kind of man that would never hurt me,” she thought.

They were having  lunch at a touristy Italian restaurant on Champs Elysees. Sandrinne always preferred the smaller, quieter places, but Ron was her guest – and a tourist – so she made an exception for him. Besides, it was one of the few places open that day.

“I hope I’m not boring you,” Ron commented, turning his attention back to his plate of linguini.

“Not at all! I am very impressed with your deep friendship with Harry and Hermione. I'm curious, though, did things change when they became a couple?”

“I was sure our friendship would change when they started dating,” he answered thoughtfully. “I think they were sure of it too. During the first few weeks we all tried too hard -- we were practically walking on eggshells around each other. They were careful not to make me feel left out, even when it was obvious that they wanted to be alone, and I made too much of an effort to show them that I was okay with everything.”

“What happened?” Sandrinne was even more intrigued now that he was getting around to more personal subjects.

Ron sighed. “I started dating like crazy, so I could go out with them and not feel the odd man out.” He paused, debating just how much information he should divulge at this stage. That particular period in his life featured some not so merry stories about various broken hearts he had left behind, before he met the girl who later became his fiancée; he wasn’t sure this was the time or place to talk about it.

“Did you break many hearts?” She asked as if reading his mind.

“Some. Not to mention my own...” Ron  instantly wished he hadn’t said that; he quickly put his mind to work, trying to cover up and steer the conversation away from the subject of his own broken heart. “It took some adjustments on both sides, but we got our friendship back on track,” he managed. “I guess I just needed some time to get used to seeing my best friends as a couple.” 

“They seem very much in love. How long have they been dating?”

“Four years,” he replied, happy to be on safe ground again. “At first, it came as a complete surprise to everyone who knew them; we all thought that if they hadn’t gotten romantic by the time they were 21, then they never would have. But once we saw them together, it was clear that they were made for each other.”

“How did they get together?”

“That’s a long story …” Ron smiled at the memory. “ It started as a bet – someone’s idea of a joke.”

“A joke?” Sandrinne’s eyes widened in surprise, “I was expecting a romantic story about how they suddenly fell in love after all these years.”

“ It was a romantic story; just – not right away. Their first date was indeed a joke and a settling of a bet, but afterwards things got very serious.”

“Were they set up on a blind date or something?”

“Not exactly. You see, back then Harry was out of a job after three years of playing professional Quidditch; he got injured so many times that he had to give it up if he wanted any kind of future that involved all of his limbs. The Daily Prophet’s editor offered him a job with the sports section and…” He suddenly noticed that Sandrinne  looked somewhat bewildered.

“Ron,” she said sweetly, “when I told you I knew about the wizarding world, I meant that I knew it existed – not much more than that!”

“Sorry…” He quickly explained the wizard terms and continued. “So Harry started working for The Prophet -- with your brother-in-law Serge, who’s very much a part of this story. That’s why I thought you knew what The Daily Prophet was, by the way.”

“I knew Serge worked for a wizard newspaper, but I didn’t know its name was The Prophet,” she commented as the waiter arrived with their desserts. “Continue please.”

“Okay,” Ron said, his mouth full of crème brulee. “The guys at The Prophet were constantly on Harry’s case for being such an eligible bachelor and not having a serious girlfriend. One day at lunch, Serge and some of the guys told Harry that they had reached a conclusion: the reason he’d never had a serious relationship was that he’d always been the brave hero and the tough Quidditch star, so he was hesitant about showing his soft, romantic side.”

“Was it true?” Sandrinne questioned, munching on a juicy strawberry from her fruit plate.

“It’s true that he was always known as a hero; as for not being romantic -- I’m not sure. I’d been on the occasional double date with him, but those are never very romantic. You would have to ask the girls he went out with about the private dates…” He stopped talking and smacked his lips in enjoyment. “This crème brulee is grand! You have to try it.”

“If you say so…” she answered playfully, leaning forward and opening her mouth.

Ron was amused by her gesture. “We’ve been exchanging sexual innuendos since last night - why stop now?” he thought as he brought his spoon to her lips.

“You’re right – it is magnifique. But I will stick with my fruit plate if you don’t mind,” she smiled and licked her lips. “Go on! They accused Harry of being afraid to be gentle and romantic. And?”

“They threw it at him all the time. I know that eventually it started to bother him.”

“That sounds pretty mean,” Sandrinne noted. “ He was only 21-- hardly an age one would expect a person to settle down at; why did they do that to him?”

“I thought about that myself. I guess it was their way of welcoming him and making him feel a part of the crowd, since he was new at The Prophet. Besides, I can’t even begin to explain who Harry is and what he means to, well, just about everyone in our world; so perhaps they felt a responsibility to help him find a nice witch. Either way, I’m sure they said everything in good humour.”

“That makes some sense,” she agreed. “Serge would never be mean to someone for no reason – especially not to Harry; he loves him like a son, you know.”

“I know that. He’s responsible for Harry being the fine reporter that he is today; he’s also partly responsible for Harry and Hermione getting together -- but I am jumping ahead.”

The waiter interrupted them, asking if they would like some hot drinks; they both ordered herbal tea, then Ron cleared his throat and continued.

“I don’t know exactly how it came to be a bet between Harry and some of the guys, but that’s what happened. They bet him that he couldn’t be the ultimate Romeo for one evening and take a girl out on an extremely romantic date. He said that he could – and the challenge was on.”

“What did they bet on? Money?”

“Er…good question. I don’t remember; but it’s not really important.”

“I guess not,” she shrugged. “So how was he supposed to prove that he did it?”

“I’m just getting to that part. They all agreed that ‘evidence’ such as photos and receipts had to be handed in. The guys didn’t mind who he took out, as long as she was a witch; they didn’t limit him to someone he had a romantic interest in.”

“So he took Hermione!” Sandrinne exclaimed. “That’s so sweet! And during the date they realized that they loved each other?”

“Actually --  no. Hermione agreed to do it for fun, and to help Harry win the bet. As for the date itself, all I know is what they told me, and they both said that nothing happened between them that night; they were playing the game, taking things humorously. He took her to a very fancy restaurant – with violinists playing at the table and everything. They had their picture taken at the restaurant, then went for a moonlight stroll on the beach; they packed in all the corny stuff they could think of.”

“Ron,” she cut him off,  “I don’t think that since I’ve last been to London, someone had put a beach there…”

“They hadn’t,” he smiled. “Harry and Hermione Apparated to southern England. That’s a form of transportation, when you disappear from one place and—“

“And appear in another! I’ve heard about it; it’s one of the things that make me sorry I am not a witch.”

“We have our advantages,” Ron grinned. “So that’s the story of Harry and Hermione’s date – a staged romantic sham.”

“That’s nice, but you still haven’t told me how they got together! If nothing happened on the date, then when?”

“I’m getting there.” Ron was amused by her eagerness. “After the date, Harry brought the so-called evidence to Serge and the others. It was enough to win the bet, but Hermione insisted on writing them a testimonial letter in addition. She wrote something about being on a perfect date with Mr. Harry Potter, and even though she went as an old friend with no romantic interest in him, she could attest to it being one of the most amazing evenings of her life.”

“That was sweet of her. I suppose she wrote the letter as a part of the joke as well?”

“Yes, but apparently, Serge’s reply got her thinking. He thanked her for the letter, admitted that they lost the bet with Harry -  and then asked her why, exactly, she didn’t  have any romantic interest in the man if they shared such an incredible evening.”

Sandrinne laughed loudly. “He got her! Maybe Serge should have become a lawyer instead of a journalist… so the date was a part of it?”

“The date and the aftermath of the bet were the catalyst that helped them open their eyes to the possibility; it didn’t take them long to get together after that. I guess both of them couldn’t answer that particular why.”

“So it was romantic after all…” Sandrinne smiled and wrapped her fingers around her teacup.

“As romantic as you can get; and ever since they got together, nobody can accuse Harry of not being romantic -- he’s become very much the opposite! Anyway, that’s all I know -- If you want more details about when and how, you’d have to ask them, but I’m not sure they’d tell you…”

“It’s okay – I know enough. That was a sweet story, but something seems strange to me: have any of you thought that maybe this was Serge and the guys’ plan all along? To get Harry and Hermione together?”

“Oh, I thought about it straight away -- as did Harry. But Serge denied it, and still denies it to this day. I happen to believe him.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You’ve seen them – they are wonderful together! Wouldn’t you be bursting with pride if it had been your plan that eventually got them together? I know I’d probably be pointing at them and going ‘I made this!’”

“You have a point,” she nodded. “ So maybe it wasn’t the original plan, but my dear brother-in-law had a big part in making them see the light.”

 “He sure did. I guess none of them will ever forget that silly bet!”

“What about you, Ron?” She suddenly turned serious.

“What about me?”

“Were you ever afraid to show your soft side? Because I don’t get that impression at all.”

“No,” he said quietly, “I wasn’t afraid to show it.” He lowered his gaze, settling it on the tea he was swirling around in his cup.

She slid her hand across the table and squeezed his fingers gently, sensing she had hit a nerve. “Tell me…I promise I won’t judge you.”

“Shouldn’t we be moving on to the next stop in our tour?” he replied, trying to avert her attention.

“I planned just one more place – and it can wait.”

“Ah - the surprise special place. Any chance of a hint?”

“It’s not that big a deal, really – just a beautiful spot that I love.” She looked at him intently, her eyes smiling.

Ron bit his lip, contemplating what to do. Talking about his fiancée would definitely be difficult; on the other hand, he was the one who wanted them to get to know each other better, and this was a very important fact about his life. He emptied his cup in one long sip, then put in down on the table, finally making up his mind; there was no time like the present to exorcise one’s demons.

“All right,” he said, nodding his head. “Let’s order some more tea, and I’ll tell you.” 

* * * * *

“You were right about one thing – it’s definitely not crowded!” Hermione said jokingly as they stood at the deserted entrance to Versailles Palace, face to face with a big sign that said ‘Closed for Christmas Day’ in five languages.

“ Look at the bright side,” Harry smiled, “at least we enjoyed a nice and scenic train ride.”

“Wait – I just remembered something!” Hermione grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the entrance and around to the back of the palace. They walked for a few minutes until they reached a narrow cobblestone path; they followed it through some twists and turns, then it suddenly ended and they found themselves standing right in the centre of the Palace’s vast manicured grounds.

“How did you know about this path?” Harry asked, impressed by what they were looking at -- as well as the way they got there.

“I read about it in ‘Magical guide to magical Paris’. Most people don’t know this, but the grounds of the Palace, along with that big lake you see over there, are basically always open to the public. The main entrance that was closed is the entrance to the Palace itself.”

“So we do have the place to ourselves,” Harry pointed out. “We’ll just have to settle for King Louis’ back yard instead of his bedrooms.”

“It’s not such a bad situation,” Hermione said, looking around in excitement. “I was more interested in the grounds anyway. Let’s go down to the lake to see if we can rent a boat!”

“I didn’t bring my fishing gear…” Harry thought as he turned to follow her.

They made their way through the grounds, stopping every few minutes to have a better look around and take in the view of the beautiful gardens and the Palace that loomed behind them. To their surprise, they were not completely alone; they spotted other people along the way, some returning from the lake, some obviously looking for a place to be alone.

“Do you think they’re all wizards?” Hermione wondered out loud.

“I have no idea,” Harry shook his head. “Maybe they are, and maybe those who wrote the Muggle guides to Paris also knew about the hidden path that takes you straight to the grounds. Or better even – there could be another, easier way to get here without going through the main entrance.”

“Well,  I think the path was discovered by someone who didn’t want to stand in line at the main gate!” Hermione laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m glad we came here,” she said in his ear. “It’s lovely and I want to enjoy it with you.”

“I’m glad you’re glad,” Harry smiled and pulled her closer, feeling her laughter vibrate through his body; then he suddenly released her and headed towards a far corner of the garden.

“I’ll be right back!” He shouted before disappearing behind some artistically trimmed bushes.

Hermione shrugged and smiled to herself. She didn’t have the faintest idea what Harry was doing – and knew him well enough not to try and guess. She turned around to get a better look at the great Palace while she waited for him.

A short moment later she felt an arm slip around her waist and settle on her stomach, pulling her back against a very warm and familiar body; soft lips placed a kiss on the side of her neck, then stopped to whisper in her ear. “For you, my love.”

A beautiful blue flower was clutched in his other hand, and he held it in front of her in a slightly overdone gesture of presentation. Hermione couldn’t help herself --  she started to laugh, her head falling back against his shoulder.

“You find my offering amusing?” Harry pretended to be hurt.

“No…” She was still laughing but did her best to sound serious. “It’s so sweet! How did you know that flower was over there?”

“You’re not the only one who collected recommendations from people before we came to Paris,” he said, tickling her face with the flower. “A little bird told me these flowers grow at the far corners of the grounds, and that they symbolize great love and devotion.”

“Oh, you mean it’s symbolic of you going to the ends of the world for me -  like you went to the end of the garden?”

“Something like that,” he chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

“It’s beautiful, Harry.” She took the flower from his hand and turned around. “Thank you,” she whispered, then stood on her toes to kiss him.

“You’re welcome, love,” he said against her lips. “Shall we go to the lake now?”

“We shall indeed!” She laced her fingers through his and they continued to make their way across the grounds.

* * * * *

They were surprised to find the boathouse at the lake open for business; it was manned by an extremely bored looking character, who sat behind a counter with his feet propped up on top of it, drinking coffee out of a large mug and thumbing through what looked like a typical trashy tabloid.

“30 Francs for the first hour, 20 Francs for every hour after that, you need to leave a deposit and pay the 30 Francs now,” he recited, not bothering to lift his eyes.

Hermione handed him the money and her Muggle drivers license as a deposit. “We’d like to take one boat please.”

“Very well. You can take that yellow one over there.” The man pointed to one of the wooden rowboats, then turned his attention back to his reading material.

“Nice fella…” Harry commented as they untied the boat and settled inside it.

“I guess he doesn’t see many people during his shift, so he can’t practice his service-providing skills.” Hermione was trying to get her oar in the water in the right angle, so they could push away from the dock.

Harry picked up the other oar and pushed it against the dock, setting the boat sailing into the lake.

“Hey!” She cried. “You’re not supposed to do it that way…”

“And since when are you such an expert in rowing, Miss Granger?”

“I saw it in a movie once,”  she frowned, still battling with the oar.

“Leave it,” Harry gently pulled her hand away. “We can just drift for a while.”

“You’re right,” she said, leaning back against his chest.

They let the boat slowly drift for a few minutes, enjoying the serene atmosphere and the beautiful scenery; the lake was surrounded by the magnificent grounds they had walked through earlier, and a small island covered in bright green grass and tall trees was visible in the distance.

“Let’s go there!” Hermione said excitedly. “It looks beautiful.”

Harry got up from behind her. “Okay, but you sit back and let me do the rowing.”

“Take me there, driver!” she giggled, pointing in the direction of the island.

He shot her an amused look, then got busy with the oars, setting the boat in the right direction.

A short time later they reached the island and stepped off their boat, tying it to the small dock that was conveniently there for this purpose. They walked around, happily taking notice of the fact that there was not another soul in sight.

When they reached a nice and shady spot under a tree, Harry took off his coat and laid it on the grass, then sat down and held his hand out for her to do the same; she shed her own coat and joined him, sensing that there was something on his mind. After a few minutes in which they sat in silence, Hermione started to feel a bit worried about the pensive expression on Harry’s face; she placed her hand on his arm, silently urging him to talk to her.

“Harry, what is it?” she asked when a few more moments had passed and he still wasn’t talking.

He turned to face her, his lips curling up in a half smile. “No need to sound so worried, love; there’s just something I need to tell you.” He lay back and she quickly followed suit, turning over so she was on her side, her head resting on his extended arm.

Harry sighed. “I’ve been having these…dreams lately.”

“Nightmares?” she lifted her head, looking at him worriedly.

“No… There’s no way I could have been having those without you noticing.”

Hermione knew all too well what he was talking about; she shuddered at the memories of the terrified look in his eyes when he woke up from one of his nightmares, chest heaving and lungs burning, his sweat covered body frantically clinging to her. She would never forget those terrible times.

“What dreams, then?” She lay back on his arm, relieved the nightmares weren’t back, although he was obviously bothered by these dreams as well.

“They are almost the same every time; slight changes, but basically the same. I see…” He closed his eyes for a moment before he continued, “I see my mum and dad. I talk to them, tell them about what’s been going on in my life.”

Hermione moved closer, trying to convey her love and support with her touch, because there was nothing she could say at the moment; she had to let him talk about it as much as possible.

“They talk to me too,” his voice was quiet. “In the last dream, they told me how glad they were to see me develop a career as a journalist, and that they are watching me all the time -- always have been. In another dream dad was talking about my Quidditch days; he said that although he was very proud I was playing professionally, he was even more proud of my decision to quit, because my health should always be more important.”

He paused for a moment and pulled Hermione into his arms. “And in every one of those dreams they tell me how happy they are that I had found love with such a wonderful woman,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

She buried her head in his shoulder in an attempt to conceal the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, then quickly gathered herself, knowing he needed her to be there for him. “How long have you been having the dreams?” she asked softly, hoping he wouldn’t notice her voice was a bit choked.

“A few weeks. I’m sorry I haven’t told you before, it’s just that every time I had the dream, I was sure it was a coincidence; it took me a while to realize they were recurring and that they probably meant something. I haven’t the faintest idea what that is though.”

“It’s okay – you’re telling me now; and I don’t know if we should be the ones to analyze them,” she chose her words carefully. “But here’s what I think: You’ve lived your whole life without your parents. It stands to reason that you would want their approval for what you do, that you would want them to be a part of your life even though they are not here physically.”

“I have always been thinking about how they would react to the decisions I made,” he admitted. “And that they would have loved you -- almost as much as I do.”

She smiled at his admission, happy he was sharing this with her. “Your thoughts could have triggered the dreams, but the fact that they are recurring worries me a little; maybe you should talk to someone when we get home?”

“I think I just needed to talk to you about it. You’re right, it makes sense that I’d share my life with my parents the only way I can – in dreams. I realize that now.”

Hermione’s heart tightened. “You know I am always here to listen, Harry. But I still think you should talk to someone; at least promise me you’ll think about it?”

“All right – I’ll think about it. Right now, though, I have other thoughts on my mind.” He turned over to his side to face her.

She brought her hand up to his face and stroked the strands of hair that fell on his brow. “Care to share those thoughts as well?”

“Gladly…” he lifted her face, and she managed to catch a glimpse of a sly smile on his lips before they landed on hers.

For what seemed like the billionth time, Hermione marveled at the way they could set each other on fire with the slightest touch; her body was starting to feel exactly that way as his mouth feasted on hers and his hands busily caressed and teased. She knew they were getting dangerously close to the point where they wouldn’t be able to stop themselves, but at that moment she didn’t really care. All she wanted was to feel Harry’s body against her, to experience the electrical surge of desire that was always sparked by the contact of his skin with hers.

She was brought back to reality a short moment later when a rush of cold December air hit her bare back; she was so wrapped up in Harry’s delicious kisses, she didn’t even notice that his hands – and her own -  were impatiently tugging at their clothing.

“Harry…” She pulled away slightly, giving him what was supposed to be a stern look.

“I know, I know. We’re being wicked in public -- again.” His breath was coming out in short gasps, as if he had run a long, long way.

“Yeah,” she laughed, trying to catch her own breath. “Since when have we become such exhibitionists?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re so beautiful! Besides, we may be on public property, but technically we are alone; and I know just how to keep it that way!” He reached into his coat’s inner pocket, and to Hermione’s surprise pulled out his wand. Before she could say anything there was a small tent around them, and the air inside it instantly warmed up to a comfortable temperature.

“There, that’s better. I even put an invisibility charm on the tent,” he smiled, looking extremely satisfied. “Excuse me for leaving us on the grass though; my mind is not completely coherent at the moment.” He pressed his lower body against her to stress the reason for his incoherence, causing her to draw in a sharp breath.

“You know you’re not supposed to use magic in a Muggle area…” Hermione attempted to scold him, but failed miserably due to the fact that her body, having a mind of its own, had already sent her fingers to the fly of his jeans.

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell…” he whispered before pulling her back into his arms.

* * * * *

Sandrinne couldn’t believe her ears; she stared at Ron, wide-eyed and speechless, her mind flooded with thoughts. The things he had just told her could possibly have serious repercussions on their developing romance, but as much as she wanted to she just couldn’t tell him - certainly not now.

“Are you all right?” he asked, looking her in the eye for the first time since he started to tell her about his fiancée. “You look a bit pale – are you not feeling well?”

“Yes… I mean no – I’m not feeling well,” she mumbled, trying to push down the lump that was rising in her throat. “I don’t know what happened. I just suddenly feel…weak.”

“Was it something you ate?” His voice was full of concern and it only made her feel worse. “Maybe I should call a taxi and take you home?”

“I can take the Metro – I don’t want to ruin your day; don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

Ron looked at her strangely, probably sensing she wasn’t being completely honest with him. “If that’s what you want,” he said quietly, lowering his gaze.

Sandrinne slowly rose from her seat and walked over to him, then leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I think I just need to rest a bit,” she said in his ear. “I will talk to you later.”

Before Ron could respond, she grabbed her coat and turned to leave.

“Sandrinne, wait! ” He cried out after her. “I’m staying at a wizard hotel – you can’t just phone me there, you know.”

The frustration in his voice sent waves of guilt through her body; she turned back and stroked his face, capturing his lips with hers. “I know how to reach you,” she whispered as she kissed him. “Please enjoy the rest of the day for me too.”

With that she turned around and quickly strode out of the restaurant, before he could see the tears that started to stream down her face.

* * * * *

Ron sat there for a few minutes, wondering what it was that caused her odd behaviour. Thinking back to their conversation, he couldn’t recall anything he said that might have offended her -  if she was in fact offended. “No,” he decided, “she didn’t look hurt – she looked disturbed, almost panicky.”

The realization didn’t help him understand things any better; he even started to wonder if that stranger he’d run into earlier had anything to do with it. Shaking his head and releasing a heavy sigh, he quietly asked for the bill.

“It has been taken care of by the young lady,” the waiter informed him. For some reason, Ron wasn’t surprised to hear that.

He decided to take her advice and enjoy the rest of the day without her; there were still things he wanted to see, and he had plenty of time before his dinner date with Harry and Hermione. His gut feeling told him Sandrinne had meant it when she said she’d talk to him later - so he would just have to wait and see.

“All right Sandrinne,” he thought as he put on his coat,  “we’ll play it your way.”  

* * * * *

“Hermione…”

“What?”

“Shouldn’t we be heading back?” Harry’s voice was sleepy and muffled; he was sprawled on his stomach on top of their discarded coats, arms folded under his head and eyes shut in delight. Hermione was kissing his back in a way that gave new and improved meaning to the words ‘spine-tingling feeling’.

“Mmm- hmm,” she mumbled between kisses, “just say the word and I’ll stop.”

He sighed in feigned frustration, then turned over, causing her lips to land on his chest. “I thought you wanted to see some more of Versailles and Paris since we’re leaving tomorr…oh…” He groaned as she hit a sensitive spot; she smiled impishly, then stopped kissing him and rested her head over his rapidly beating heart.

“Do you think what we did is illegal?” She asked, hugging him tightly and settling herself so she was lying half on top of him.

“Depends if you’re talking about the what, the where – or the how?” 

“I knew I could count on you for a detailed answer,” she laughed. “ You’re right, we should return the boat to Mr. Cheerful and hop the train back to Paris, but can we stay just a little longer?”

Harry stroked her hair. “I think that can be arranged…”

“All right,” she stifled a yawn. “Ten minutes, and then you get to row our boat gently down the lake.”

* * * * *

Ron buried his hands in his coat’s pockets and shifted his weight from one foot to another, trying to keep himself warm. He was a bit early, so he patiently waited for Harry and Hermione outside ‘The Buddha bar’ -  a bar-restaurant where they had reserved a table for a late dinner. A friend of Harry’s from the Prophet had recommended it, saying it was a very stylish and trendy place to have dinner and drinks.

He had spent the remainder of the day touring the city with no particular destination in mind, mostly thinking about Sandrinne. The only significant conclusion he had reached was the obvious one –  he had to give her the time and space she needed. He was glad he was about to meet his friends for dinner -- maybe Hermione would have a logical explanation that could shed some light on the situation. Besides, the three of them spending an evening together would be just like old times.

He spotted them walking in his direction; as usual, they were touching each other in some way, and it looked like they were engaged in one of their famous bantering sessions. His heart gave a small, involuntary twitch of jealousy at the sight of his perfectly paired friends. Not that he was actually jealous of them -- he was genuinely happy they had found such profound bliss together -- but sometimes he just wished that he could be a part of such a beautiful and whole companionship. Ron quickly shook away the self-pity so he wouldn’t start to wallow in it, then proceeded to greet his friends.

He immediately noticed the surprised look on their faces when they saw he was there alone.

* * * * *

”What do you mean Sandrinne had to go?” Hermione asked when they were seated at their table. “She was supposed to spend the day with you and show you the city!” She tilted her head in confusion and looked at Ron strangely, as if she was suggesting he had done something to cause this.

“I know that, Hermione,” he retorted, a bit annoyed at her reaction. He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he expected from her, but when she was stating the obvious it wasn’t helping him one bit.

“Tell us what happened,” Harry said, trying to avoid any hint of accusation before they knew all the facts.

Ron sighed and took a long sip from his drink, then quietly recited the events of the afternoon, up until the moment Sandrinne had dashed out of the restaurant.

“Do you think she really wasn’t feeling well?” Harry cut him off, a puzzled look on his face.

“No. I’m pretty sure she was thankful I asked her that, because it provided her with an easy way out; what I don’t understand is why she needed a way out in the first place.” Ron sounded helpless and bewildered. “I had a feeling she wanted to tell me something, but for some reason couldn’t,” he continued. “Then she said she’d contact me later, and before I knew it she was leaving. There’s also something else I didn’t tell you about: I think someone was following us around today…” He kept his eyes on his drink, almost embarrassed to look directly at them.

“Ron,” Hermione shot him a  come on! look, then cleared her throat and laced her hands together, implying she was about to begin one of her analytical speeches. “I must admit that this is a very bizarre situation; who would want to follow you? And why?  I don’t think we should dwell on that subject too much because it makes very little sense. As for the elusive reason you are looking for - it could be much simpler than you think.”

“Simple? What could be simple?” Ron questioned, looking at her curiously.

“I mean, she could have been a bit scared of getting personal, so she elected to avoid talking to you about those issues for the time being – that’s all.”

“That makes sense,” Harry remarked.

“It does to some extent,” Ron agreed, “but on the other hand, she didn’t show any signs of hesitation when she asked me about personal issues.”

“Of course not!” Hermione exclaimed. “Why should she have a problem with listening? It’s the talking that’s the tricky part. Give her time, Ron,” she  placed a comforting hand on his arm, “I’m sure she’ll come around.”

“I hope so,” Ron shrugged, then shook his head and took another sip from his cocktail, getting a bit tired of talking about Sandrinne. “Enough about me – what did you guys do today?” he questioned, giving Harry a slightly forced smile.

There was no further discussion about Sandrinne for the rest of the evening. Harry and Hermione brought Ron up to date on their sightseeing and activities of the day, leaving out the more…personal aspects. They had plenty of drinks and a light dinner, enjoying themselves immensely; it was indeed like old times – the three of them chatting away at a bar, Ron slowly transforming into his amusing, drunken state, causing tears of laughter to spring in his friends’ eyes in the process.

“I need to go to the men’s room,” Ron stated when they had already asked for the bill and were getting ready to leave.

Harry quickly got to his feet “I’ll make sure you end up in the right place…” he mumbled and hurried after Ron.

Hermione watched the two most important men in her life, quietly chucking at how sweet they both were – each in his own unique way.

* * * * *

“I didn’t know the fair was in town,” Ron commented as they passed the Ferris wheel at Place de la Concorde on their way to the closest Metro station.

“It’s not,” Hermione smiled. “This Ferris wheel was brought here for the millennium celebrations, as a gift to the city by the engineer who designed it; they named it  ‘La grande roue’ – which I was told translates to ‘The big wheel’. ”

“It sure is big,” Harry observed, looking at the top.

“Maybe we can go up there tomorrow?” Hermione asked, playfully tugging Harry’s arm.

“Yeah,” he answered with grin and a nod of his head, “maybe we will.”

They said their goodbyes at the Metro station after making plans to have brunch together the next morning; Hermione hoped that this time, they would need a table for four.

* * * * *

Ron quickly showered and prepared to turn in for the night, trying to ignore the constant buzzing in his head; he wasn’t that drunk, but a good sleep would definitely do him some good – especially after the action-packed day he had had.

He scribbled a quick letter to his brother Fred, mostly regarding work-related issues, then set the parchment on his nightstand so he wouldn’t forget to owl it in the morning. He turned off the light and settled in bed when a soft knock sounded at the door.

He turned the lights back on and shuffled to the door, opening it to find Sandrinne standing there, her head bowed down and her arms hanging loosely at her sides.

“How did you get …”

“I have my ways,” she cut him off and lifted her head, her big blue eyes looking straight at him. “Can I come in?” she asked quietly.

Ron didn’t answer; he leaned against the door and silently ushered her in.

End of part 2
~~~*~~~