We'll Always Have Paris

They had been in France for only two weeks, but Hermione was already doing something with Draco she never would have dreamed ... laughing. She did not know if it was because she drank too much of Draco's own brew of Peppered Up Pumpkin Juice (to keep them awake), because it was already past midnight, or because his imitation of Pansy Parkinson was spot on. For whatever reason, Hermione Granger found herself doubled over in a fit of laughter with Draco Malfoy howling along side her. If another Gryffindor or Slytherin had walked in at that moment, he or she would have assumed their classmates were obviously under the Imperius curse, because a Malfoy never laughed with a Mudblood.

It had all started early on Thursday evening. It was toward the end of their second week at Beauxbatons Academy, and Draco and Hermione had both retreated to the VIP common room after dinner to prepare for Friday's lessons. They had barely touched their food, because they had so much work to do. They had to finish up their 30-inch History papers on the Lacavalier Treaty of 1490, which banned the use of Drop-Off charms used on sailors to convince them their boats would drop off the end of the earth if they sailed too far. In addition, on Tuesday, the Herbology teacher, Professor Guerin, announced there would be a practical lesson on Friday on the names, characteristics, and uses of all the flowering plants from chapters 1-5 in their Herbology texts. Draco agreed to help Hermione with the History paper, and Hermione promised to help Draco memorize the information for the Herbology lesson.

It was already past 9 PM, and their progress was slower than a flobberworm race. They had each drunk about a gallon of Draco's hyped up pumpkin juice already, and the effects of it were more pronounced since they had eaten very light dinners. Hermione could not decipher Draco's handwriting, so he essentially had to read the notes to her, which ate up precious time. Plus he had to finish his own scrolls, which he hadn't bothered to start until that night. Hermione continually interrupted Draco's thoughts, interjecting with questions and comments on the cruelty and purpose of the treaty. "The indigenous wizards of the new land planted horrible visions in the minds of those young men and their families just to keep the knowledge of their people a secret. How many sailors died when they jumped from the boats, because the wizards trained their dragons to fly out over the sea?" Hermione's voice rose with excitement as she imagined the poor muggle sailors meeting awful deaths.

Draco made some strong, logical arguments. "Look at what happened after the Lacavalier Treaty. Explorers traveled to the new world and took everything from the rightful wizards. Using magic to retaliate against muggles was outlawed by then. It is a miracle more wizards didn't die." Draco looked quizzically at Hermione as she pondered his statements. He could see the wheels turning in her head, whipping up a well thought out comeback to plead her case. Licking her ruby-colored lips slowly, she furrowed her brow in concentration. Draco was half expecting a severe tongue lashing from her, but instead of responding, she tilted her head back to stretch her neck. He guessed it was a stall tactic to gather her thoughts, but he would not be distracted by her feminine wiles. This was no point to lose his resolve. He was actually beating her in an argument. He had many female acquaintances who tried to use their femininity to distract him. Isabel and Pansy fell into this category. In fact, both of them had tried this same ploy on him, with little result. But Hermione was different. She didn't even seem conscious of the effect it had on him, which made her even more beguiling. Trying to ease the strain from craning her neck over their books for so long, she began to rub her long, supple neck with her smooth, graceful hands. Time seemed to slow as he watched her hands move back and forth, back and forth. Snap out of it! A little voice in his head screamed. You're finally winning. Don't blow it just because you'd rather be the one doing that to her neck instead of just watching. You have a business arrangement with her, and business it must stay.

Time reverted to its normal pace, and Hermione stopped rubbing her neck. He knew her brief pause had given her time to formulate a valid point in their debate, but he was not about to let the balance of power shift. He needed to keep the upper hand, so he decided a change of subjects was in order. "Granger, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were enjoying this little spat of ours," Draco proposed. "Surely there must be at least one person in that house of do-gooders who can supply some quality debate material. Don't any Gryffindors ever debate with you?"

Hermione did not want to admit it to Draco, but the truth was, aside from the SPEW movement, no one ever seemed to challenge her opinion, especially when it came to homework. She was Hermione Granger, top student and class know-it-all; therefore, they assumed, she must be the authority in every academic subject. They always went to her with their questions when it came to schoolwork, and figured Hermione had read all of the books, so she knew the answers. Tonight's debate with Draco was the first time in a long while where someone challenged her opinion on an academic matter. It felt good. He made her work a little and she really had to think before formulating her arguments, since she knew Draco would be ready to pick them apart point for point.

But she would never let him know this. "It's really such a shame, Malfoy," she started, but her tone was not malicious. "Slytherin House has all the great minds. Take Crabbe and Goyle, for instance. I heard the Ministry Think Tank has already cleared two spots in anticipation of their graduation from Hogwarts." Hermione could see the laughter behind Malfoy's eyes as he imagined such an event. Getting Crabbe and Goyle to form a coherent sentence was a stretch on a good day. Future Think Tank-ers they were not.

Although he tried to repress it, a small smile started forming in the corners of Draco's mouth. He put his hand over his mouth to attempt to cover it up, but it was too late. Hermione saw his eyes twinkle and lowered her voice, "Duh, uh, yeah Minister, I looked at that paper, and I was thinking ... I was thinking ... Um. I forgot what I was going to say." Hermione started giggling, causing Draco's grin to break free. The transformation on his face was amazing. Hermione was struck by how warm and lighthearted Draco looked when he laughed. Before this, Hermione had only witnessed sneers and malevolent smirks form on his lips. She had never realized how a person's appearance could change so quickly. His gray eyes glistened as his skin pinked up from his first bout of genuine laughter in weeks. He wore it well.

Draco disturbed Hermione's increasingly flattering observations of him when, in between laughs, he said, "Which one was that supposed to be? Goyle?"

Hermione peered at him with mock surprise. "You mean there's a difference between them?" This made Draco laugh even harder.

Once his laughs subsided, he remarked to Hermione, "Know what's weird, Granger? Your impression wasn't even that good. I don't know why I laughed so hard."

"Everybody needs to let off some steam every once in a while, even pompous gits like you, Malfoy," Hermione replied with a grin.

Eventually both students calmed down and their fits of laughter disappeared. With the atmosphere lightened considerably, they drank some more of the pumpkin juice and started in on their Herbology assignment. Hermione had suggested using word association techniques for memorizing the flora information, which might have worked if it had not been near midnight when both of them were exhausted and getting silly.

Hermione told Draco when she studied, she sometimes took an object or term and related it to a person or thing already familiar to her. Relating something new to something old triggered recognition of the information. For instance, Sofroes were fluffy, high maintenance plants, which made humans irritable and grouchy if ingested. These reminded Draco of his great-grandmother's toy poodle, Sasha. Another type of plant, Aquatarae, had long, plush blue flowers, which were found in warm areas and used in calming potions. These plants reminded Draco of a trip he took to the Mediterranean. As the night wore on, these innocuous associations gave way to inane and goofy connections, usually related to people they both knew.

"What?" Draco asked in a surprised tone. "Granger, you can't sit there and tell me Longbottom doesn't look like a Bulbous Bufura. It says right here, 'Bufura tend to tip over repeatedly if they are not firmly tied to growing sticks.' I just call 'em like I see 'em, Granger."

Hermione laughed so loud she thought she would wake the castle, because even before Draco mentioned her friend, a mental picture of Neville tripping down the steps floated before her eyes. "Stop picking on us Gryffindors, Malfoy," she commanded but her voice was friendly. She had moved from her place on the floor and was now sitting on the same couch as Draco. "Not every plant in this book could possibly only remind you of my school mates."

He cocked one of his eyebrows, "Really? Who's the one that suggested the Spit Fire Aurora reminded her of Weasley? Not I. Was it Granger? Yes, I think it was." Hermione chuckled at Draco's one-man conversation.

"Well that was an obvious one," she reasoned. "He's fiery, hot-headed, easily aggravated, and, oh yeah, he's got flaming red hair." She was smiling as she reached across and grabbed Draco's notes from him. She looked down the list he had written of plants and his ways to remember them and said, "You've associated all the plants with negative attributes to Gryffindors. That's not fair. And what about the Florander? You can't ask anyone with half a brain to believe Snape reminds you of a pearly white flower used to make beautifying potions."

Draco had turned so he could face her and rested his right arm across the back of the couch. He reasoned, "Florander is also used for memory retention potions, and Professor Snape is one of the smartest wizards I've ever met. Besides, I didn't associate all Gryffindors with bad plants. I said that Parvati girl reminds me of the Pink Frangolias. They're used for Happiness Potions. That's not a 'negative' association." Before Hermione admitted that she had indeed forgotten about that one, he opened his mouth again. "Plus they're from tropical climates and that girl is hot! She's got that exotic-looking thing going on."

Her mouth agape in mock outrage, Hermione flung her thick Herbology book across the couch and it landed with a thud in Draco's lap. "It figures you'd say something like that."

"Hey, you asked," he replied with a grin. He felt so relaxed. He didn't think he ever felt so comfortable in his life, and definitely not with this girl. I really should stop drinking that juice.

Hermione looked intently at Draco's list in her hands. "Malfoy," she said. "There's one glaring omission from this list. One name I was certain you would have mentioned." Draco looked up at her, wondering what name she would drop on him. She peered over the top of his parchment and smirked, "I think Pansy would be very upset if she knew she weren't represented anywhere here on your list of plants."

Relieved that Hermione had not mentioned the other person, whose name began with a "P," Draco tossed his head back and exclaimed, "Pansy! Get serious? I reserved most of the really nasty plants for Gryffindors, and even though Pansy is annoying and too clingy for my taste, there's something to be said about House pride. I already know which flower she would have expected me to say." Anticipating Hermione's next question, he opened her book on his lap and showed her a page of large mauve colored flowers with velvety soft petals. "The Lufulicas are very rare but highly sought-after flowers, which were used in many love potions before they were banned. Their scent is so pleasing and alluring, that even if unmixed with any other ingredients, when a person inhales too deeply, he or she may actually feel like they drank a mild love potion. Pansy would want me to associate Lufulicas with her, but I wouldn't need any help remembering these flowers." He looked quickly away from Hermione. "But I suppose if I had to pick a plant or flower to remind me of Pansy, it would be a Mundolo."

"A Mundolo Why? They are very useful in many medicinal potions," Hermione wondered.

Draco smirked, "But they are also very prickly, have a funny odor, and they are the main ingredient in one of Zonko's best selling brews: the Chatterbox potion." Draco cleared his throat, pointed his nose way up high, and began to speak in a high, shrill voice, "Oh Draco, aren't my new dress robes just lovely, and my new shoes too. Mother paid 75 galleons for just the shoes. Can you believe it? And how about these new clips for my hair. Don't they make my blond curls even bouncier?" He continued his Pansy impersonation for a few minutes.

Tears rolled freely down Hermione's face while Draco transformed into Pansy Parkinson. He not only had the pitch and tone of her voice down perfectly, but his hand motions and gestures were purely Pansy. It was uncanny. Shaking his head in disbelief, Draco spoke again in his normal voice, "I mean, who cares if her curls bounce? I must have missed the lesson where they told us new clips and curly hair make you a better wizard."

Hermione could scarcely breathe, but she finally managed to squeak out, "Stop it, Malfoy. I think my stomach's going to burst from laughing so much. You don't have to convince me. Pansy is definitely not a Lufulica."

Overcome by an uncontrollable case of the giggles and sick of studying plants for 3 straight hours, Hermione acted impulsively for perhaps the first time in her life. She took the Herbology book from Draco's hands and tore out the page with the Lufulicas on it. She ripped the page into tiny pieces and threw them into the air, laughing joyously. As the many pieces slowly trickled down, some of it landed in her hair. She burst into a fit of giggles. Draco roared with laughter when he saw Hermione rip the page out and tear it into pieces. As the pain in his side gave way, he looked over at her. She looked so natural and carefree. The sight of her took his breath away. The light from the fire illuminated her face, and she radiated warmth. Draco felt drawn to her like a moth to a flame. As the light danced across her, the golden flames made her hair shine like honey.

As Hermione started to calm down, she reached her hands up and was trying to free some stray bits of parchment, which had nestled into her long curly tresses. But she was having difficulty finding them all. Hesitant, but wanting to drink in her warmth by any means necessary, Draco slowly reached up and moved his hand toward her face. Neither of them felt like laughing now. Draco paused briefly, as if to ask her permission to get so close. Her eyes fixed on his, and she did not turn away from him. His eyes moved up slowly until they rested on a lucky bit of parchment trapped in her soft tresses. His hand followed his gaze, but as he gently freed the paper his eyes once again fell down to meet hers, which had not moved at all, as if expecting to meet his again.

Hermione did not take a single breath from the moment Draco's eyes met hers. He was so gentle, so tender. Any breath or sound would ruin it. When his hand neared her, she felt her body grow warmer. She knew she was sitting by a fire, but Hermione suspected the heat had little to do with the flames. When Draco touched her hair and moved his eyes to meet her gaze again, she felt her heart beat faster.

Draco didn't think about what he was doing. For once in his life, he didn't calculate the potential outcomes and weigh his options. He had no idea why he was doing this, but he didn't care. He brought his hand down further, but instead of lowering it by his side, Draco brushed his fingers across her face. He cupped her face and gently rubbed his thumb across her cheek. Somewhere deep inside, Draco knew he should not touch her, but how could he not? Her hair smelled so sweet. Her skin looked so soft and smooth. He needed to see if it felt as good as it looked. Ever since their train ride, Draco could not stop wondering what being so close to her would feel like, what touching her would feel like. He knew he should stop right there. His head told him to stand up and walk away, but moving away seemed wrong. If anything, he needed to move closer.

As if reading his thoughts, Hermione reached up and closed her hand over Draco's. Her hand was as steady as his when they touched, but both of their heads were spinning. Draco's gaze moved down to her lips, and Hermione licked them nervously. They were sitting so close on the couch, Hermione was certain Draco could hear her heart thumping in her chest. But it made more of a tapping sound. She could hear it in her own ears. First, it was soft, but it kept growing louder. Tap, tap, tap. TAP, TAP, TAP. Then she realized the sound wasn't coming from inside her; it was coming from outside on the terrace.

With a slight jump, Hermione pulled her hand from Draco's. She whispered, "Do you hear that tapping sound? It sounds like it's coming from outside."

Realizing how close their faces were, Draco moved quickly to his side of the couch. He cleared his throat loudly and starting nervously running his fingers through his blonde hair. He hadn't heard anything over the throbbing pulses of his own rapid heartbeat, but now that he was at a safe distance, he could hear it too. Sure enough, there was definitely something tapping outside.

Drawing their wands, Draco and Hermione rose and went to the terrace door. Hermione opened it and a large, regal-looking owl flew briskly into their common room. Completely surprised, Draco exclaimed, "Midas!" The owl flew directly to Draco and perched itself on a nearby table so he could untie the rolled up letter with the green ribbon attached to its leg. Looking somewhat flustered by the events of the past 60 seconds, Draco hastily explained to Hermione, "Midas is our family owl. He's brought a letter from my parents."

TBC