Chapter Text
"I remain perplexed as to why you wish to take the muggle route to reach your vacation place," Harry remarked, rolling out his eyes in shock.
"Because it will be enjoyable!” exclaimed Hermione Potter, née Granger, as she securely fastened her travel luggage. Ron wanted to treat his two closest friends to a lovely vacation rather than a lavish dinner because he was getting married in two weeks. Having been married almost three years, Harry and Hermione were thrilled at the prospect, especially because their marriage had been monotonous and they were under a lot of stress at work.
To ensure his two friends, who are more used to muggle life, were comfortable, Ron even made reservations for the muggle flights and motels. Unfortunately, Harry asked Ron that his wife accompany him on the scheduled holiday even though he had to accompany his Auror squad on an emergency operation.
Hermione was excited to go on Ron's first flight with her, having taken flights on a frequent basis with her parents. "Oh my goodness, that hotel looks incredible. Even an outdoor pool is present!" Harry spoke, his voice hinting at a hint of jealousy as he looked dreamily at the photos.
Ron grinned at his closest friend. Silently, he said to him, "Next time, we'll both go together."
"Are you ready to take off, Ron?" inquired Hermione, grinning wryly.
"Always," he smiled in return. Ron picked up his suitcase and gave Harry a hug, while Hermione kissed him on the cheek. The taxi was standing outside the residence. Ron said to Harry, "We'll be home tomorrow night, mate."
Hermione waved at her husband through the car window when they were comfortably seated in the taxi. "Please remember to buy me some macarons". From the porch, Harry enthusiastically screamed. Hermione laughed and sent him a kiss. Hermione closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and exhaled a contented sigh as the taxi drove them through London.
Due to traffic, it took them more than an hour to arrive at the airport. Hermione was gushing about how much she wanted to travel to Paris. "After the conference, we must, of course, visit the Louvre."
Ron bit back a smile and murmured, "Blimey Hermione, there's a lot more than museums, don't get too excited." Ron had never taken an airplane trip. The thought had pleased him. He was just a flight enthusiast. He must also like the plane.
The international airport was a hive of activity. Ron was clueless about where to look. A hallway larger than the Atrium was being traversed by hundreds of muggles with bags, barely avoiding collisions. The ceiling was covered with bright screens that displayed the airline schedules. The crowd's clamor was almost unbearable.
Hermione was pleased by Ron's insatiable desire to observe everything and was observing him from the side of her eye. When the staff was asked about their IDs, she took care of subtly confounding them, and they proceeded toward the safety check together. When the metal barrier that Ron was walking through began to beep loudly, he was taken aback.
He was instructed to take off his belt and reenter through the gate by the security guard. From the other side, Hermione was smiling at his confused expression. When Ron was given permission to accompany Hermione, he rolled his eyes and muttered, "I cannot keep my belt yet I am allowed to keep my wand." It was finally time to get on the aircraft. Ron was surprised by how much more space there was inside.
After locating their row, Hermione offered Ron her window seat so he could experience flying to the fullest on his first trip. All the same, he was beginning to doubt the whole premise. From where he sat, wedged among the window and Hermione, he could do nothing. The thought of losing control over his aircraft did not sit well with him. Beside him, Hermione was reading calmly and pleasantly.
She responded, seemingly reading his thoughts, "I assured you that it felt nothing like brooms." Ron was becoming a little nervous by the moment the airplane took to the track. His hands were perspiring, and he regretted not having brought his broom along. He looked at Hermione as he felt a gentle hand softly squeeze his.
She seems empathetic but also amused. With an appreciative smile, he held her hand as the plane lifted off. Ron felt so much more at ease once they were upright. Above the clouds, the sky had a vivid blue color. In the air, the plane appeared to be stable. After releasing Hermione's hand, he let out a long sigh.
His nervousness made him feel a little humiliated. "Don't mention that with Harry. I told him it would be amazing to fly". He remarked, "I'd never see the end of it." Beside him, Hermione laughed, and he smiled back.
Ron scarcely flinched when the plane landed, and the remainder of the journey went well. Hermione pulled out her program once again once they were in the taxi that would take them to Paris. "For the guided tour, we must arrive at the gate by ten o'clock. We'll eat lunch after that". She clarified, "The museum is open from 2 to 4 before we have time to ourselves for the remainder of the day". Ron stated, "We won't have enough to go to our hotel first," as he peered at his watch.
Now the Paris streets scrolled through the taxi windows. Hermione was regaling Ron about the legend of Ponte Alexandre III as well as his four enormous golden statues, and they were both looking out excitedly. The vast glass cupola that covered the roof of the Musée d'Orsay. Before the cab came to an end, they managed to catch an overview of the enormous Eiffel Tower.
In brisk, agitated French, the driver requested money, and Hermione gave him some Euro bills. After the cab drove away, she said, "This is it, Plaza de Furstemberg. The focal point needs to be the Wallace Fountain." Ron followed her to a very basic stone fountain encircled by four gorgeous old trees. The bellhop carried their bags inside, where they made themselves comfortable in the lounge.
At the welcoming area, a gorgeous witch remarked in a gentle voice, "Welcome mister and misses!"
Hermione coughed a little. She said, "Oui, bonjour, nous venons des Londres," with a trace of an English accent.
"Oh, bien sur! Vos nomes?" enquired of the welcoming witch. "Ron Weasley et Hermione Granger" The French sorceress gave Ron a really alluring smile after doing a double take. Ron smiled and nervously cleared his throat. Hermione scowled at the scene.
The witch apologized, saying, "We had to keep your reservation open for an unforeseen circumstance as our rooms are already booked." Ron began to object, but the witch pointed out that their new hotel was open and they could move them there if it was okay. The hotel included the same amenities and was said to be amazing.
"We've prepared lunch for our visitors". The witch said, "Have your fill, and we can head over to your rooms," and Ron immediately accepted. There was a hearty, delicious late buffet lunch available. A selection of delectable wines were served, along with petits threes and canapés, oyster and snails (all of which Ron bravely sampled), and elegant tarts topped with cheese, veggies, and mushrooms. Thanks to Hermione's skillful translation, Ron was quickly engaged in a discussion with the French wizards.
"I hope your time at our hotel is enjoyable! For you, we have tour guides of our own. I also implore you to take in the splendor of our lovely city! The world's most beautiful and romantic city! Paris really is magical! Feel free to ask our welcoming witch for advice on places to eat and see". The lovely welcoming witch greeted them and showed them to their rooms.
Ron and Hermione conversed with the witch while strolling in the chilly Parisian air, as their hotel was only a short distance away. Ron only intended to lie down in the hotel, while Hermione planned to head directly to the Eiffel Tower. In the end, the two agreed to head to the Louvre after leaving their things at the hotel. The hotel was opulent. The exquisite Hausmannian structure unfolded between two age-old wooden doors, adorned on either side with luxurious sea green velvet curtains.
At the very end of the foyer was an elaborate gilded mirror and a marble floor. A black stone plaque by the elevator pointed to the indoor pool and Jacuzzi located downstairs. A worn glass door revealed a fairly little salon.
Coffee tables were surrounded by cozy, vintage-looking green and gold velvety seats. The chandeliers were opulent, and the walls were adorned with mouldings. Candles were used almost entirely to cast the light. The reception desk was towered by a gorgeous clock. Ron took a quick peek at Hermione, who was staring at the ceiling with wonder. He gave her a smile and lifted his eyebrows in gratitude. With his hand at the small of her back, he led her gently towards the welcome desk.
After obtaining their keys, they proceeded to the sixth floor using the ancient iron elevator, leaving their travel luggage in the foyer. Ron's room was adjacent to Hermione's. As they both went into her room, Ron gave a grateful whistle. A beautiful tapestry of gold covered the room's walls. The canopy bed's drapes were composed of a rich purple velvet. On the bed, a dozen different pillows were set. From the lofty window, one could see the magnificent musée du Louvre across the Seine. Hermione said, "This is amazing," as she unlocked her bathroom door.
Ron moved up closer, peering over her shoulder. The shower was enormous, and the entire bathroom was composed of marble. A shower nozzle about the dimensions of a plate was mounted to the ceiling, and eight massaging jets were arranged in a row along the walls. Ron chuckled and said, "You're sure you are still keen to make it to the museum?"
Hermione smiled broadly, let herself drop onto her plush bed, and giggled. "Unquestionably"
"All well, I'll let you finish packing then. Tell me when you're prepared." Hermione merely waved her hand in acknowledgment because she was too preoccupied admiring her room to respond. Ron's room was almost unchanged. The curtains on his canopy bed, however, were emerald green. He pictured Daphne lying on that bed, thinking about how badly she would enjoy it and how lovely she would look.
Grinning to himself, he took off his backpack and got dressed, putting on a couple more layers of clothes to stave off the chill. A few minutes later, he heard a light knock on his door, signaling that Hermione is ready.
It was only across the Seine to the Louvre. The pristine white sky hinted of impending snowfall to the people of Paris. They crossed a bridge and strolled along the riverbanks. It was fairly small, with metal barriers enclosing it on two sides. Hundreds of locks of various shapes and colors were hung on each fence. Ron was curious about the meaning when Hermione addressed his unasked inquiry, stating, "This is le Ponte des Arts. It's quite old and has an urban legend associated with it. According to Parisians, two people are forever linked if they place a lock on each other's fence and toss the key into the Seine".
"Really?" Ron grinned. He teasingly said, "Well, that's not romantic at all." Hermione smiled.
"It's Paris," she said with a dreamy sigh as she began to cross the bridge.
"Let's get on!" Ron smiled at her and replied.
"What?"
"A lock should be hung for us. Together! As best friends," Hermione chuckled.
She scoffed and said, "Ron, this is all absurd, Paris is filled with stupid legends. Although, the one regarding the Phantom regarding the Opera Garnier in Paris might be true."
"Hermione, come on, it's fun even though it might be rubbish! And it's a lovely way to commemorate our many years of friendship and make our imprint in Paris," Ron grinned at her. His eager face made her chuckle, and as he summoned a small golden lock, she rolled her eyes very slightly. He motioned for her to come on, finding a position along the left fence.
She smiled with amusement as she joined him. Together, they placed the lock on a gap in the fence. Ron removed the key and placed it in Hermione's grasp. Gently, he moved to stand next to her and raised her arm above the fence. They watched the key drop into the river when he counted to three. A barely detectable vibration emanated from the bridge at the precise instant the key touched the water. "You experienced that?" Ron inquired, his face wrinkled. Hermione gave a shrug.
"Ron, please hurry up so that we can still have a few hours till the Louvre closes!" The Louvre Museum was a massive art gallery. Ron was dragged by Hermione from row to row as she frequently gasped in wonder and could barely suppress her joyful screams. They were reminded of Bill, Ron's older brother, by the Egyptian wing. He would go insane from the sheer amount of enigmatic, unopened old tombs and sarcophagi. They spent hours wandering the museum, taking in all the manifestations of Muggle and Wizard Arts.
A tiny group of people gathered beneath a single frame in the center of a couple of the oldest art galleries. Ron was led to join the gathering by Hermione, who grasped his hand. "It's the Mona Lisa," she murmured. Ron was familiar with the well-known painting by Leonardo Da Vinci. However, the little size of it saddened him greatly. Something greater was in his imagination. Perhaps it was how celebrity operated.
People have high expectations of well-known individuals. Mona Lisa was slyly glancing back and forth. Even though they couldn't see her eyes moving, the muggles were nonetheless enthralled by her. She gave Ron a wink.
It was becoming dark while outside and snow was at last starting to fall heavily when they left the museum. If it were possible, the snow made Paris even more stunning. There was a thin film of pure white covering the three crystal Pyramids on the courtyard of the Louvre. Ron and Hermione headed back towards the banks after Hermione linked her arm around his.
They discovered a modest, classic French cafe and took a seat on a table situated in a distant corner. The location was the ideal fusion of old and new. It smelled so good. Warm baguettes and truffles. There was a captivating melody playing, including sensual, elegant female vocals.
Ron sat on a sleek metal chair opposite of Hermione, who was comfortably situated on a bench seat covered in a dark blue cloth. A single golden candle glistened in the center of their spotlessly clean tablecloth. With her mouth watering, Hermione replied, "Look at the menu." A gloomy but efficient server took their orders, which included the customary Blanquette du Veau and a bottle of red wine from the Côtes de Beaune. It tasted great.
And thus was being there with Hermione, Ron was thinking.
While Ron works nearby in WWW and Hermione takes care of magical beings while Harry works within the Auror department, they were used to spending their lunchtimes together at the ministry. However, spending time alone with her in Paris seemed quite different and pleasant. When the cheese plateau arrived, she was chatting about the trip of the French museums and asking Ron a ton of questions about the new inventions at WWW.
Hermione cut a piece of Brie with great enthusiasm and shut her eyes in happiness upon tasting it. She sighed, "Hmmmm." Ron observed her, finding her response to the cheese amusing and unexpected. He had to taste them all, she insisted. She leaned over the table to give him a piece of bread with a mildly creamy cheese on it, saying, "Try that one as well, Brillat Savarin." Ron nibbled at it, his tongue quickly racing after each last morsel that left his palate.
The French song continued, making Ron's face warm and his head dizzy even though he could not comprehend a word. Perhaps the wine was the cause. Hermione was also taking in the music while savoring her cheese in silence and sporting rosy cheeks from the wine. "What's the message?" Ron finally inquired.
Hermione appeared to awaken from her daze. Her gaze darted to his face. “The music. It's in french, what's does it say?” He smiled and asked again. She seemed a little embarrassed as she cleared her throat.
She remarked, "It's actually pretty... naughty."
"Really? Though those voices are so quiet, it yet sounds sexy". Hermione chuckled a little.
She smirked and said, "French people have a gift for making ugly words sound pretty."
"Now, tell me what it says," Ron pressed his point, raising his brows at her. Hermione laughed and listened to the song's remaining few sentences carefully before responding.
Her cheeks turned a little pink. "Well, it says basically 'you're my target, I'm the arrow shooting at your crotch.' I'd like you to awaken the monster in me," she said, her voice fading as she heard to the following section. She calmed her throat, deliberately stopping translating and blushing.
He chuckled and joked, "Well, it's certainly as appealing as it sounds then," seeing her long lashes over her cheeks as she avoided looking at him. Her lower lip was being teased by her teeth when she blushed, something he had never seen before. It was so cute. Ron shook his head a little and took another drink of wine. After clearing their desert, they payed for their meal and got ready to take on the snow once more.
"Bonne soirée, les amoureux," the restaurant manager said as she reopened the door for the couple and gave them a wink. Even with his extremely little French, Ron was able to understand what he was saying. The manager closed the door to keep the bistro warm before one of them could fix him. Ron laughed, grabbing Hermione by the arm.
Once more, they walked over the Pont des Arts, peering at their little lock among the others. "It was lovely," Ron remarked.
"Yes, it was a great day with delicious food," she said. She grinned brightly and said, "I'm happy to be here with you, Ron. I'm having a great time." Her eyes sparkled.
"Yes, it is definitely nice," he said, grinning lopsidedly. They strolled silently to their motel after he wrapped his arm over her shoulders. They had a quick good-night hug before parting outside of their rooms.
Ron finished his ninth length an hour later. After quite a long day, his body felt strangely awake. After saying farewell to Hermione, he had gone back to his room but couldn't sleep. Instead, he gazed out the window at the snow falling.
Then all of a sudden, he was reminded of Burrow's Lake by the pool and Jacuzzi downstairs. Now, as he turned beneath the surface for another length, he was relishing the silence of the deserted swimming pool area.
Hermione was a little miffed to see that the swimming pool was not empty when she shoved the door open. She was hoping for a peaceful, unhurried, time by herself in the Jacuzzi. She watched Ron swim and grinned to herself when she recognized it was him. Ron had done well from lifting heavy merchandise in the store to playing Quidditch in his lawn every other day. His body moved quickly, causing his back muscles to tremble with each breaststroke. It had a mesmerizing quality. She moved toward the Jacuzzi, suddenly realizing how weird she would seem staring at him in that way.
Ron stopped swimming and peered about, seemingly sensing Hermione's presence. He smiled. He asked, laughing, "You, here?" as he swam over to her at the pool's edge.
She grinned. "Indeed. It seems like we have the same thought".
"It does". With his elbows resting on the side of the pool, he continued, "I needed to relax because I couldn't sleep." His hair was disheveled and damp. His bare limbs shimmering with liquid. With a nod, she undressed and entered the Jacuzzi. For an instant the blue bikini was visible, then she sank into the warm water and sighed with delight. "Exercising is not my idea of relaxing, though," she joked, casting a quick glance at the pool. She closed her eyes and continued, throatily, "This is sooo good."
In one quick motion, she overheard Ron get off the water. "Do you care if I join you?" he smiled. His hair was dripping wet down his neck, and his towel was slung loosely over his shoulder.
She said, "Sure," as she observed him toss his towel onto a bench. With his head thrown back and his eyes closed in happiness, Ron stepped into the bubbling bathtub and sat in the empty bath seat towards Hermione, his arms resting comfortably outside the tub back him and his nude chest partially submerged in the warm water. The heated bubbles bursting at the surface produced the only noise in the large space. Hermione's wet hair was wild around her face, and her neck was submerged in the water.
With a cheeky grin on her face, she observed him. He cocked his head and said, "What?"
Biting her lip, she replied, "Nothing." Inhaling deeply, Ron relished the sensation of the heated bubbles caressing his body.
"This remind me of the prefect's bathroom," he remarked, "which is really good."
Hermione laughed. "Oh yeah, I do miss that bathroom," she remarked whimsically.
Ron said, "I miss Hogwarts," expressing the obvious.
"Well, I heard we're planning a reunion trip there in May."
With a hint of malice in his eyes, Ron said, "Oh yes." With a giggle, Hermione got out of the water and rested her hands on the Jacuzzi's edge behind her.
With mischievous eyes, she added, "I'm planning of sneaking upstairs to the prefect's bathroom during our breaks." Ron gave a hearty laugh.
"Great idea, I might attend as well." With a smile, Hermione closed her eyes once more and rested her head on the bathtub rim. She let the hot water relax her body by taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. With every breath, her shoulders as well as the peak of her damp chest moved slowly across the water. Not much skin was visible beneath her blue bikini top.
The drops of perspiration or steam slowly running down her neck, past her collarbone, and into the water in the valley of her large breasts mesmerized Ron a little. Ron's body was being teased by the bubbles and the intensely warm air. When Hermione's foot unintentionally touched his leg, he felt her eyelids open.
For an instant, they merely exchanged glances. It was simply a long, in-depth, perfunctory glance. It had an odd quality to it. Fresh, distinct, and brimming with an additional element that Ron was unable to identify yet seemed to transmit pleasurable impulses to his body. He gave a small mental shake to himself and ripped his eyes out. He remarked softly, "It's definitely too warm for me," and then he carefully rose out of the water.
As he got out of the steaming bath, Hermione looked behind him. Warm water seeped from his hair and down his neck, running quicker in the hollow of his back and disappeared over his swimsuit, which clung to his posterior and fell low on his hips. Something tugged low in her gut, causing her face to flush, and she turned her head to look out the window, where snow was still falling.
It had begun just some hours ago, and soon a thick blanket of snow would envelop Paris. "Good night, Hermione," Ron replied, grinning a little too broadly.
"Night Ron," she muttered in return.