Only Time

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Hotel ‘Les Rives De Notre Dame,’
Latin Quarter, Paris.
December 25^th, 2005
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“Do you really think Sandrinne will come around?” Harry asked as he emerged from the shower, drying his hair with a small towel.

Hermione was busily fluffing the comforter on their bed. She smiled at the sight of Harry, clad in her favourite pair of grey silk boxers, his body adorned with small droplets of water that clung to his skin in various places; she knew exactly what she wanted to do about them.

“My women’s intuition says she would,” she replied determinedly. “She’s dying to talk about something – I just know it.”

He crossed his arms on his chest and smiled at her. “And how, may I ask, have you come to posses that knowledge?”

“I told you -- woman’s intuition,” she answered, as if explaining to a child. “ It never tells a lie.”

“Does it also know what it is that she wants to tell Ron?”

“Are you being smart with me, Potter?” Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but her tone suggested she was very amused at the situation. “ Of course I don’t know! You can’t expect this intuition of mine to know everything…”

“I can tell you what my intuition knows,” he said as he approached her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “It knows that you’re mighty beautiful when you pretend to be annoyed with me…you get this little crinkle on your brow…” He ran his finger between her eyebrows, then let it trail down her face, tracing the outline of her lips; he gasped in surprise as she opened her mouth and gently nibbled on his finger.

“I thought you had enough to eat at dinner,” he managed, finding it hard to breathe.

Hermione released his finger and let her hand wander to his stomach. “I want to have dessert,” she breathed, lunging forward and licking a lone drop of water from his collarbone.

“In that case,” he mumbled, angling his head to grant her access, “You can take anything you like off the trolley…”

She slipped her hand lower, smiling slyly at Harry’s shallow breathing and his body’s reaction to her teasing. “I think I’ll have the banana split…” she whispered seductively, still engaged in the pleasurable task of licking the last traces of water from his skin.

Harry sensed that she wanted to be the one setting the pace tonight, and was perfectly fine with letting her make love to him and ravish him as she pleased. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensations of her warm lips on his skin, her body pressing against his, her hand around him …

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Will I ever have enough of you?” Hermione asked in amazement some time later as they were sprawled on the carpet, their bodies cooling.

“Hopefully not.” Harry smirked, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “We never made it to bed…” he pointed out, nudging her shoulder.

“No, we didn’t; not that there are any complaints about that!” She rolled off him and slowly got to her feet, pulling him up with her.

“Well, maybe it’s a good thing that we didn’t,” Harry said playfully. “You had the comforter all nice and fluffed – wouldn’t want to have made a…mess of it.”

“Harry!” Hermione smacked his arm and rolled her eyes. “Thinking about neatness when I’m seducing you, eh?”

“Me? Never!”

She laughed and shook her head; the man was incorrigible! But she loved him anyway.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

After another quick shower they finally slipped into bed; Hermione settled her head against the soft spot just below Harry’s shoulder -- the one that felt much nicer than a pillow -- and slowly began to drift into peaceful oblivion.

“How did I ever get so lucky?” Harry’s question snapped her back into coherence.

“You didn’t,” she mumbled without lifting her head, “I did.”

 Harry snorted quietly. “That’s an interesting way of looking at it.”

“Well, that’s the way I see it,” she punctuated her statement with a kiss to the side of his neck and closed her eyes again.

“Do you remember our first time?” Harry’s voice was quiet, and he was lazily running his fingers along her arm, showing no intentions of going to sleep.          

“You never run out of questions, do you?” She opened one eye and looked up at him, surprised to see there was no smile on his lips; he was dead serious. “What first time?” She asked, not sure where he was going with this. “Our first real date, our first kiss, the first time we made love?”

“All of the above.”

“ Of course I remember-- and quite fondly I might add. Some things keep getting better and better though…”

Harry was silent for a few moments, obviously deep in thought. “Not to take anything away from all of those first times,” he said finally, “ but that night, before we made love for the first time, when you looked me in the eye and told me you loved me…”

“Harry, what –"

“Wait… let me finish, please. I… I know I will never experience that exact feeling again; it was the first time I have ever heard the words and the first time I’ve said them in return. It was the most perfect moment of my young life.”

Hermione wondered where all off this was suddenly coming from; she snuggled closer and slid up so her face was directly above his. “I will always love you, Harry,” she whispered, kissing his lips tenderly. “Always. I want to hear you say you know that.”

“I know that,” he whispered back, running his fingers through her hair. “I know that…”

“Good …” She kissed him again and settled back against the crook of his shoulder.

He let out a content sigh and wrapped his arms around her, finally ready to call it a night.

“Harry, can I ask you something?” she said a short moment later, knowing sleep will elude her if she didn’t ask him right now.

“You never run out of questions, do you?” He teasingly repeated her statement. “Of course - you can ask me anything.”

“You said that nobody has ever said the three words before I did -- but you dated a lot of witches up until we got together. Haven’t any of them… ever…?”

“No,” he replied simply. “None of them ever said it – or really loved me for that matter; and to be honest - neither did I.”

“I’m honored and happy to have been the first,” she said quietly, her heart contracting with emotion.

“Not as happy as I was! Now can we please go to sleep?”

“Mmm-Hmm. G’night, Harry.”

“Good night, my Hermione.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Sandrinne walked into the room, her body language giving away her insecurity and hesitance; she sat down on the small couch, and Ron settled himself on the bed, facing her.

“I’m sorry I ran away from you,” she said after a few moments of thick and uncomfortable silence. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

“Why did you, really?” Ron decided to cut to the chase. “Don’t tell me you were so touched by what I told you about my fiancée leaving me that you had to be alone and take it in…” he sounded more sarcastic than he intended to be.

“It had to do with what you told me – but not the way you think; I…I wanted to tell you a little bit about my past, but didn’t know how I could have. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to talk to me after you heard …”

“What could have been so awful you couldn’t tell me?” Ron threw his arms in the air, totally exasperated.

She bit her lip, pausing to think before she spoke. “It wasn’t that awful– but it would have sounded awful to you…”

Ron couldn’t think of anything he could say to that; he simply looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I dated my last boyfriend for almost two years -- up until a few months ago,” she began. “He was a lovely man -- intelligent and funny and caring…very close to being perfect; my family adored him, as did all of my friends. I enjoyed being with him; he showered me with small gifts and romantic weekends and just…attention.”

“What happened?” Ron asked quietly, sensing there was a big ‘but’ coming up.

 “I found out he was going to ask me to marry him,” she said. “I found out by accident, and I was totally blown away – but not in the good sense; not in the way I should have been.”

“You didn’t want to marry him?”

“No. He may have been the perfect man, but I suddenly realized that he wasn’t the perfect man for me; he just wasn’t the one.

Ron was starting to get the picture – and it looked painfully familiar. “You broke up with him,” he stated, feeling no need to speak in question form.

“I left him,” she nodded her head slowly. “I packed all of my things that were at his place and waited for him to come back from work one evening. I told him that I couldn’t marry him, and that I was very sorry to be hurting him, but if this is not meant to be then we should end it now – before we make a commitment and complicate things more”

Ron’s mind was spinning; this was very familiar indeed

She lifted her head, looking at him for the first time since she started talking. “How could I tell you this right after you told me how your fiancée packed her bags and left you?” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “I had done to someone else the very same thing that was done to you! The same, painful thing…”

“I understand,” he said simply.

“I was afraid you would hate me…” her tears were flowing freely now. “ I was so afraid you would hate me,” she repeated, getting to her feet and standing in front of him. “I like you, Ron. I like you a lot. That’s why I was even more afraid.”

It was a strange situation, Ron admitted to himself. Yet it was not an insurmountable obstacle; in fact, it wasn’t an obstacle at all, if he decided that it wasn’t.

“Sandrinne, I know this is one hell of a weird coincidence…but I wouldn’t – I couldn’t – hate you because of what you did! As much as it hurt me to see my fiancée leave, I understand now that it was for the better. If she didn’t really love me and didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with me, then she did the right thing by letting me go -- no matter how much it hurt. The same goes for you; the guy was better off being dumped than married to a woman who didn’t love him. Besides,” he added, looking at her intently,  “I am over it; I accepted what happened and I am moving on.”

“Then you forgive me?” she asked hopefully, wiping the tears off her cheeks.

“There is nothing to forgive.”

“And you are not angry?”

Ron slowly shook his head. “Not anymore,” he answered, his face breaking into a smile.

She smiled back, and Ron found the image of her towering over him as he sat on the edge of the bed to be painfully arousing. She looked absolutely lovely; a simple A-shaped mini dress clung to her curves, and her long, shapely legs were covered in shimmering black tights. He felt a sudden urge to peel them off.

Sandrinne was well aware of the crackling tension between them, but unlike the tensed silence from earlier, she very much anticipated the storm after this calm. She ran the back of her finger down his cheek and hesitantly pressed her lips against his; a short moment later the hesitance was gone and Ron slipped his hand behind her neck, pulling her closer and kissing her with increasing fervor.

“I want to show you something,” she whispered when they came up for air, reaching behind her and unzipping her dress; her hands moved to her shoulders and she slowly shoved the dress off, letting it pool on the floor.

Ron felt his heart pound and the blood roar in his ears. “Sandrinne… I want…”

“Yes…” she breathed, moving to stand between his legs and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, causing Ron to gasp as she cradled him against her chest; he lowered his head and placed hot kisses on her stomach, then proceeded to do what he wanted to do just moments before:  his hands encircled her and he swiftly grabbed the hem of her tights and pulled them down. She fell forward so she was pressed against him, her knees astride his lap, and helped him pull the tights all the way off her legs. She could feel how much he wanted her and smiled in satisfaction when he groaned at the contact.

Ron couldn’t remember the last time he felt such hunger for someone; his face was pressed against one of her breasts, and he lost himself in the incredible sensation of holding a half-naked girl in his arms while he was fully clothed.

He didn’t stay fully clothed for long, though. Sandrinne’s small, efficient hands helped him get rid of the constraining clothing, and by the time she pushed him back onto the bed and settled on top of him, they were both panting, their heads whirling with desire.

“I thought you promised there would be no strenuous activities,” he managed between heavy breaths.

“I lied…”

With his last shred of rational thought, Ron decided not to think of anything but the deliciously erotic feeling that was washing over him; there would be time for rationalization and reason later.

He crushed her to him and was instantly immersed in their passion.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
"Wow…”

“ Mais oui!” She agreed, beaming at him. “And they say the first time together is not supposed to be very good!”

“I guess we defied the statistics then,” he laughed, looking down at the tangled heap of their bodies.

They stayed that way for a long while -- gently touching, stroking and kissing, then Ron suddenly felt Sandrinne shift uncomfortably; he started to fear she was about to pull another disappearing act on him.

 “Is everything all right?” He asked quietly.

“Yes, of course…” She answered, kissing his lips. “I just thought that maybe… maybe you wanted me to go?”

“Why would I want you to go?” he looked at her, a questioning look in his eyes. “I enjoyed your company, you know…”

“I wasn’t sure…what you…” She found it hard to express herself, but Ron understood that she was just being insecure.

“Don’t go, Sandrinne,” he said reassuringly, stroking her face. “Stay with me – please.”

She leaned in to kiss him again. “I will stay,” she said between kisses, “but then you would have to buy me breakfast.”

“If you agree to upgrade that breakfast to a fancy brunch, then you got a deal.”

“What is a brunsh?”

“You’ll see…”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

They stayed up most of the night, talking about everything -- and nothing. When they had enough of talking they made love again, slowly and sweetly this time, getting to know each other better in this very intimate and enjoyable way.

It was near dawn when they finally felt tired.

“We should get some sleep,” Ron said, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn.

“When is this brunsh?” She asked sleepily.

“Too soon…” he mumbled, pulling her close. “Go to sleep, Sandrinne.”

“All right -- but I want you to know that I am happy I will be waking up next to you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he whispered, “and I am glad that I finally know all of your secrets…” his words were slurred as Ron had already started to drift – and  he missed the sad expression that clouded her face just before she closed her eyes.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Where are we having brunch again?” Harry asked as they passed through the gateway to Paris’ wizarding area on their way to Ron’s hotel.

“Actually – I don’t know,” Hermione stopped walking and shrugged her shoulders. “We said we’d meet up and go eat together, but nobody said where.”

“I was sure you had something planned,” he smiled, gently elbowing her in the ribs. “That Magical guide of yours probably had some ideas.”

“I’d say it would be a nice change if you took me somewhere,” she pretended to be hurt.

Harry turned to face her. “I will – this evening,” he said, his expression suddenly serious. “Tonight you’re coming with me; no questions, no begging for hints, no guessing games, and the Magical guide stays at the hotel, okay?”

She tilted her head, eyeing him suspiciously, and Harry could sense her curiosity mounting, but knew she wouldn’t ask him any questions after the speech he just gave her. “All right,” she grinned, obviously intrigued by the secrecy surrounding Harry’s plans for their last evening in Paris. “I won’t ask any questions - but I still have all day to drag your sorry – albeit horribly cute – arse all over the city…”

Harry rolled his eyes, laughing at his Hermione’s need to always have some kind of control. “We’ll see if you lose some of that control tonight, my dear,” he thought, the picture in his mind causing him to almost burst out laughing.

“So what do you think – will Ron come alone or will she show up with him?” he asked, deciding to change the subject before she found a clever way to extract details, or asked him what was so funny.

“I think that we no longer have to speculate about that, ” she answered, pointing at the entrance to the hotel, where Ron stood smiling happily, holding Sandrinne’s hand. Hermione immediately noticed that Sandrinne was wearing an evening outfit; she smiled to herself as she realized they had obviously spent the night together, but decided not to attack Ron with embarrassing questions just then. She made a mental note to do that later.

They exchanged quick greetings, Harry and Hermione making sure not to make Sandrinne feel uncomfortable – even though she didn’t seem to be uncomfortable in the first place.

Since they had no idea where they wanted to go eat, they let Sandrinne lead the way, trusting her to take them someplace nice. They ended up in a small café overlooking the left bank of the Seine River, and spent a couple of hours having a lovely brunch and chatting leisurely. Hermione found Sandrinne to be a bright and intelligent girl -- one she very much enjoyed talking to. She and Harry were both surprised to learn that she was a Muggle; just like Ron, they both assumed Sandrinne was a witch.

Hermione believed that dating a Muggle girl could be good for Ron – after all, he was pretty clueless in the ways of the Muggle world. “You better not hurt him, Sandrinne,” she thought, admitting to herself that no matter how many times she vowed not to get emotionally involved, it was always futile; she felt an unexplainable need to do whatever she could so that her friend wouldn’t get his heart broken again.

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After brunch, Sandrinne offered to take them to see Bois de Boulon – a big forest to the west of the city. Harry and Hermione had planned to see some more monuments in Paris since it was their last day, but decided that spending the afternoon in the woods was a better idea. Sandrinne also suggested they take the bus instead of the metro, so they could enjoy the ride across the city. The idea was greeted with enthusiasm by Ron, Harry and Hermione; it was a beautiful, crisp December day, and they all looked forward to doing some sightseeing on their way to the forest.

They made their way to the bus station, engaged in a debate about Muggle sports versus Quidditch. Ron was a very active participant in the discussion, but no topic in the world – no matter how close to his heart, could have prevented him from noticing him; the man passed them, supposedly just walking on by, but Ron knew he was following him again and was trying to make himself inconspicuous by passing them. Sure enough, he disappeared into one of the stores they had passed along the way, and Ron was willing to bet he would come out afterwards and resume his mysterious activities.

He searched the most remote areas of his brain for a possible explanation but, as much as he tried, he couldn’t come up with a reasonable one. Now that he had seen the man once again, he was sure it was no coincidence – but that didn’t help him understand why someone would want to follow him around Paris.

 “Maybe he just fancies me…” Ron thought sarcastically.

“Earth to Ron!” Hermione waved her hand in front of his face. “You’re a million miles away! Is everything all right?” she asked worriedly.

“Yeah, sure,” he managed a lame smile.

“Okay then,” Hermione said, not quite believing him but dropping the matter anyway.

“Actually, no,” Ron stopped in his tracks, deciding to throw all caution into the wind. “I am not all right. Do you remember what I told you last night at the bar about this man I think is following me? Well, I just saw him again!”

They all stopped walking, looking at Ron intently. Sandrinne crinkled her brow and took his hand in hers, obviously hearing about this for the first time; Harry and Hermione exchanged a worried look, silently contemplating what to do.

“Ron,” Hermione said cautiously, “are you sure it was the same man?”

“Of course I’m sure!” He answered impatiently. “I wouldn’t be so baffled by this if I wasn’t sure!”

The stunned silence that followed was suddenly broken as they all started talking at the same time, each throwing their speculation about the mysterious character. The guesswork continued in full force as they boarded the bus, and finally Ron couldn’t take it anymore.

“Will you all please stop?” He pleaded. “I’d like to enjoy the rest of this day without hearing about potential hazardous encounters that may or may not await me!”

“He’s right,” Sandrinne agreed. “We should stop talking about this – we are scaring Ron.” She rose from her seat and sat in his lap, ignoring the curious looks from other passengers on the bus.

“All right – we’ll stop,” Harry said, smiling at Sandrinne’s protective gesture. “Besides,” he added, “maybe this bloke isn’t following you at all…maybe you’re just accidentally in all the same places as someone else?”

They all laughed at Harry’s long shot theory, but dropped the subject out of respect at Ron’s request. The rest of the ride across the city passed without incident; Sandrinne pointed out some interesting landmarks they passed along the way, and Ron seemed to be back to his contented self, enjoying the ride and the closeness he was sharing with Sandrinne.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The rest of the day went by pleasantly; they took a short walk along the recreation path that traversed Boulon woods, then found a particularly pretty spot to sit down and rest.

Harry lay back on the ground and Hermione did the same, using his stomach as a pillow; Sandrinne settled herself between Ron’s legs, leaning back against his chest and closing her eyes, taking pleasure in her surroundings.

“How about going out to dinner tonight?” She offered after a while. “ Harry, Hermione, I know the perfect place where we can all celebrate your last night in Paris.”

The hidden meaning of her words not lost on Ron; it didn’t necessarily have to be his last night in Paris.

“Thanks for the offer, Sandrinne,” Harry said. “But there is someplace Hermione and I have to be tonight – so we will let you and Ron have a nice, romantic dinner with just the two of you.”

“We will take a rain check, though,” Hermione added, lifting her head from its cozy resting place. “Next time you come to London we will be delighted to show you around and take you out to dinner.” She was afraid Sandrinne would be offended because they wanted to be alone instead of going to dinner together.

“I would love to come to London,” Sandrinne beamed, turning to look at Ron, needing his reassurance.

He leaned over and kissed her softly. “Of course you will come to London,” he mumbled against her lips, “the sooner the better…”

Harry got to his feet and cleared his throat, causing Ron and Sandrinne to pull apart. “We should get going,” he said apologetically, looking at his watch. “Sandrinne, thank you for being a wonderful tour guide!” He kissed her cheek, then slapped Ron’s shoulder. “I will see you at home,” he was careful not to name a date or time.

Hermione bent down to kiss them both, slightly saddened that their day together had to end, but excited about the mysterious evening that awaited her; she and Harry gathered their things, said their goodbyes again, then started to make their way out of the woods.

“Where is that someplace they have to be tonight?” Sandrinne asked after Harry and Hermione disappeared from sight.

“I can’t tell you,” Ron answered with a grin. “Harry swore me to secrecy; but I will tell you tomorrow – I promise…”

“All right,” she shrugged and turned her attention back to Ron, snuggling closer against him. “Looks like we got the rest of the day to ourselves then,” she said, just before his lips captured hers, silencing them both.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Some time later, they decided that as much as they enjoyed exploring each other, it was a lovely day and they should explore the beautiful outdoors. They disentangled their bodies and limbs from each other, reluctantly rising from their cozy position.

Sandrinne led them deeper into the woods, and Ron was starting to suspect that she wanted to continue exploring him after all – and was just looking for a more secluded spot to do so; he smiled at that thought.

“Feel like taking a little bicycle ride?” She asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“ I’d love to – but where could we…” He stopped short as they reached a small cabin, surrounded with dozens of bicycles for rent.

Sandrinne walked into the cabin and emerged a few minutes later, carrying two small keys and a map. “Here,” she said, handing him a key, “you can take any pair you like.”

Ron chose the largest looking mountain bike and proceeded to open the lock that secured it to the rack. Sandrinne had already started pedaling, the map of the recreation path held in her hand, and Ron quickly followed, grinning at the sight of her riding a bicycle in a short dress.

They rode in silence for a while, enjoying the serenity and beauty of the woods. Although he tried not to think about it, Ron’s mind drifted back to the stranger he had seen earlier. There had to be something he was missing – some detail that could solve this puzzle; he had a feeling the answer was right on front of him.

“Of course!” he cried out, causing Sandrinne to abruptly stop pedaling; she turned around and looked at him strangely.

“Ron? Are you all right?”

He came to a stop next to her and got off his bicycle. “Your ex boyfriend,” he said enthusiastically, ignoring her question, “the one you told me about -- could he possibly be …er…interested in you? Maybe have someone follow you?”

“What? Why would he… Ron, have you gone mad?”

“I just thought of something,” he continued. “Harry said that maybe that man wasn’t following me at all. I know he said it as a joke, but something tells me there could be a grain of truth to it -- so…”

“So you think he was following me – is that it?” Sandrinne finished for him. Ron was relieved to hear a playful tone in her voice; he suddenly realized that she could be offended by the accusations he was making.

“Something like that,” he answered quietly.

“I admit that it’s a nice theory,” Sandrinne said, a smile forming on her lips,  “except this ex of mine is not even in France; last I have heard from him, he was in America, involved with some girl from Boston. We haven’t spoken for a long time and I don’t think there’s a chance he would want anything to do with me.”

“Well then, I guess we’re back to square one,” Ron noted, his spirits sinking a bit.

Sandrinne closed the distance between them, taking her face in her hands. “Don’t think about him anymore,” she whispered. “I want you to have fun…so please stop, okay? For me…” She kissed him briefly, then mounted her bicycle. “Come on!” she shouted. “Get on that bike, Monsieur, and catch me if you can!”

Ron quickly got onto his bike and rode after her. He decided that Sandrinne was right – he should forget about possible conspiracies, mysterious strangers, or angry ex-boyfriends -- and have fun. He intended to do just that, but as much as he tried to ignore it, there was still a small voice in the back of his mind that insisted he was on to something.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Harry bit his lip nervously as he stood at the hotel’s reception desk, going over the plan in his head while waiting for the clerk to complete their checkout process. They still had a few hours to kill before they had to go meet Philippe, so he decided it would be best if they checked out of their room and left their bags at the hotel; it could be late by the time they got back – provided everything went according to plan. And that was a big if.

He snapped out of his reverie when he felt Hermione’s body pressed against his back. “Are we ready to go?” She asked, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Just about,” he smiled, turning his head to kiss her.

The desk clerk cleared his throat. “There you are, Monsieur Potter,” he said. “Your receipt and the papers for your luggage. Have a pleasant evening Monsieur, Mademoiselle,” he concluded with an official bow of his head and turned his attentions back to his computer screen.

“Let’s go to that place I can’t ask you anything about,” Hermione said playfully.

“Yeah,” he smiled, taking her hand in his. “Let’s.”

End of part 3
 To be concluded…
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Coming up: Nervous!Harry carries out his plan, Ron learns some more interesting things, and Sandrinne has to make a choice.