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Paris Days by mina1011
Chapter 6 : Mandela Rai
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 36

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Mandela Rai

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K Rowling...daaamn!

“Oh, I remember seeing that yesterday,” Hermione admitted, sitting down on the couch and taking 2 croissants out of the bag, offering one to Malfoy. Taking it with only a short nod of thanks, he ripped open the parcel.

Picking up the letter, addressed to the both of them, Hermione read aloud,

Dear. Mr. Malfoy and Miss. Granger,

Congratulations on completing the first task, arriving at your destination safely! While you are in Paris, you will have to complete several other tasks, or assignments, in order to get a good grade.

These assignments are:

Buy a digital Muggle camera, and take photo’s as evidence as you completing your assignments. One or both of you must be in the picture (you must also get the photo’s developed at a Muggle store at the end of the 3 weeks)

When returning home to Hogwarts, you must arrange your own transportation. (Includes booking/buying tickets, getting to the airport, how to get to King’s Cross etc...)

Correspond with friends via Muggle Postal services (addresses enclosed)

Go to the Eiffel tower and the Louvre, do not use taxis, and try to ask strangers for directions.

Use a laptop to locate 5 restaurants in Paris, and dine there.

Go to a DIY store and buy some kind of furniture (e.g. table, closet…etc) buy some paint, and build it.

Film you, and your partner having a conversation in French.

Do some sort of cultural music project in which you go outdoors or another place where you would be able to find cultural music playing, and stay there to listen.

Go to see a French movie, and make 5 points about it in French.

Invite several friends round for a formal, dinner party.

In this package, you will also receive a ‘converter’ which will allow you to exchange Wizard money to Euros, incase you will ever need it, but remember that the converter is checked, to see how much extra money is used, this will effect your grade. There is also a credit card (the code is 2993), which has the 500 euros in it. The laptop has been placed in the bedroom, Miss. Granger should be able to explain its uses, and there is also an internet connection. If you should ever run into any danger or problems, we will be notified magically. Other than that, the rules are pretty simple.

No magic allowed for 3 weeks.

And as extra note, you will both have jobs.

Miss. Granger is sectary for Mr. Riley, head of Bols Bank. (4, Foisque Street)

Monday – Friday, 10:30am-4:30

Saturday – 10:30-3:30

Mr. Malfoy, you will be working in the Saks Fifth Avenue department store, under men’s clothing section.

Monday-Friday 10:15-4:40


Your earnings from your job will be wired directly to your account.

Each of you will also keep a diary. It is not mandatory to write in them everyday, but as often as possible would be better, however, we will not be grading them. They are just as memory.

Good luck! And enjoy,

Yours sincerely,

Prof. M. McGonagall.

Hermione, now finished reading, looked in the package for the list of addresses, credit card converter, and diary.

Picking up the diary, she flicked it open. It was pink, for a girl, and just had lines inside. It wasn’t amazing, but it had a cute little lock with a key, on a chain, which was obviously for a necklace. Placing it round her neck, she looked for the other things.

Malfoy was holding the credit card, with an odd expression on his face. Placing it back on the table, he had a look at his own diary.

Hermione got a hold of the address list, and started flicking through it. Laughing, she pointed out that Neville and Pansy had been partnered up. Malfoy, smirking, leaned over Hermione’s shoulder to read the list. Hermione usually hated it when people looked over her shoulder, but strangely, she didn’t seem to mind Malfoy doing so.

Examining the list and items again, the two of them sat down on the couch.

“So, what you think of the assignments?” Hermione asked, trying to start a conversation to break the awkward silence that had settled between them.

“Some seem alright,” Draco shrugged, acting like he didn’t really care.

Scanning the list again, Hermione nodded her head.

“Looks like it should be a good time,” she said with a smile in an attempt to be friendly.

“It better be,” Malfoy muttered, relaxing back onto the couch, his arms spread out over the top.

‘Ever been to Paris?’ she asked him, turning to face him.

“Yes, with my mother,” he drawled out, his voice laced with irritation as if Hermione was supposed to know this about him.

Giving a half smile, she nodded.

“Is there anything you want, or need to do today?” she asked him.

“No, not really,” Malfoy snapped, then, upon catching the hopeful gleam in Hermione’s eye, he returned the sentiment. “Do you?”

“Well, maybe we should go get the camera and buy some food, the fridge is empty, and this,” Hermione pointed towards the pile of food she had just bought, “won’t last forever.”

“Fine with me.”

“Oh, and I don’t feel like cooking, so maybe you want to go out for dinner?” Hermione ventured, trying to make her tone seem as neutral as possible. She didn’t want it to sound like she was asking him out on a date or anything.

“Well I suppose I could cook—but going out sounds good too,” Draco agreed, smiling for the first time that morning. He seemed suddenly happy, and interested. “Last time I was here, I went to this one place with my mother—it was kind of a club thing. Maybe we could go there!”

Hermione looked at him, slightly confused. Was Malfoy sounding—enthusiastic?

“Keep in mind that we don’t have a lot of money,” Hermione reasoned skeptically. Anywhere that Malfoy and his mother had gone was probably a little out of their budget. Laughing, Malfoy pulled out a wad of money from one of his pockets.

“I told my father what was going on, and he gave me some extra money”

Hermione, trying not to look disapproving, merely tried to over look the fact that technically, they were cheating.

Malfoy, knowing what Hermione thought of this, merely smirked.

I love being rich! He thought brightly to himself. If he was going to be stuck as a Muggle for three weeks, there was no way he was doing it modestly.

He thinks he so rich, Hermione sighed to herself, wondering what it would be like to have no restrictions and all the money one could possibly imagine at your fingertips.

“So you want to get ready?” Hermione asked, snapping out of her reveries. Malfoy looked as though he too had been caught in the middle of a thought, but nodded. “Alright then, we should be off.” Malfoy nodded his agreement, but neither teenager moved.

Both were quite comfortable on the couch, watching the city wake up outside the huge glass windows. Twenty quick minutes passed and not a word was spoken. It was a comfortable silence, both in a conversation with themselves, thinking of the three weeks that still needed to pass by. It was pleasant, just sitting there, having a reason to remain silent, there was no pressure to try and talk to one another.

Slowly, before either of them could process it, they leaned into each other. Hermione felt her head slide onto Malfoy’s shoulder, but before she could fully allow herself to relax into his chest, she jumped up, like she had just received a shock from him. Blushing slightly as he rose next to her, he walked past her, making sure to brush past her side, and grinned.

‘I’m gonna get changed’ he murmured.

Hermione just stood still, thinking about what the hell had just happened.

Dear Diary,


So, this is day one then. Well, it’s about 6:45pm now, and Malfoy is taking a shower, so he can quote: ‘Look good for dinner’, I don’t know who he’s trying to impress….

We went out today, into the city. It was so much fun, and we didn’t even get to see most of it!

Well anyway, Malfoy was acting rather odd today. Like a very moody teenager. In the morning, when we left the house, he was pleasant, nice to talk to. But as soon as we got outside the building, he acted like a total prat, trying his very best to disturb the Muggles, and myself. He was totally doing it on purpose, and when I asked him to stop, he got even more annoyed. But a few minutes later, when we arrived at this camera shop we found, he acted genuinely interested in everything. He kept asking questions, and the man behind the counter was positively beaming that someone had such a keen interest in photography. He was so polite, and such a gentleman…really, I would never have suspected it! But then….

Hermione paused for a moment, groaning as she recalled what had happened. Then, putting the pen back to the paper, she continued.

she can get so frustrating! She kept talking and talking about ‘Paris this…’ and ‘Paris that…’ I honestly don’t give a shit! Seriously, I don’t know how Potter and Weasley stick that woman out (Although, I’d rather have a know-it-all, than Pansy). The cameras were pretty cool though—I can’t believe Muggles can honestly think of that kind of stuff without magic! It’s insane…but, anyway, after the camera thing, she wanted to take pictures of everything!!! Every 5 meters we would have to stop, and, quote “Oh, have to remember this!” it’s so annoying!


I cannot wait to get out of here.

Well, anyway, we started walking home, and we didn’t speak to each other. Although she is a Mudblood, I’d rather have a normal conversation, than have none at all. I don’t what it was but I felt kind of guilty. I suppose she just wanted to remember everything, maybe I shouldn’t have shouted at her….

Well, she thinks I’m taking a shower; we’re going out for dinner. It’s that place I went to when I went here with mother. Mandela Rai or something? Hopefully I’ll be able to remember where it is….

I don’t even know why I’m writing in this stupid diary anyway. It has to be the stupidest idea McGonagall has had in her life, save for this stupid experiment.

Paris is pretty cool though.

Despite it being a Muggle place, many sophisticated Wizards often went to Mandela Rai, explaining why Malfoy and his mother had dined there. It was very elegant, and classy, much to Hermione’s liking.


“I am so full!” Hermione groaned, leaning back with a silly smile on her face.

Raising his eyebrow, Malfoy nodded disapprovingly. This was a chic club, and if his parents were around, they would have been furious for such rudeness. She had obviously not grown up the way he did. But then, he thought, nobody really has.

They were both not really speaking to each other, so dinner had been a quite event. Hermione, who had only spoken to Draco once in the apartment (asking him what kind of clothing to wear), was now dressed in a cute, black dress, something similar to what the girl was wearing in the lobby, but probably less expensive.

Malfoy was wearing a suit, and Hermione noticed he was getting a few more looks from the girls, than before.

Once they had arrived, they had a normal conversation, and it was almost as if there had never been any feud between them earlier, but then Hermione insisted they order their food in French, to which Malfoy down right refused. Having a heated argument, in hushed tones, it resulted in Hermione speaking French, and Malfoy not.

Hermione looked over to the dance floor. Although Malfoy had mentioned it being a ‘club’, it was slightly more—formal—than the kind of clubs she went to during the holidays. People didn’t really let go, and it was more ballroom, than just dancing. Hermione watched the people who looked very graceful, swishing and swirling about on the dance floor. Malfoy, who was watching her look at the dancers, merely sighed. He had hated taking ballroom dancing for four years, but his mother had heartily insisted. Any proper gentleman knew how to dance. If she has any notions of me taking her to dance, she’s sorely mistaken, Malfoy thought to himself, remembering his solemn promise never to dance unless absolutely necessary.

Bonjour madam,” Hermione and Draco both jumped slightly at the unexpected voice at Hermione’s side.

It was a man, who was probably a little older than Malfoy. He was very good looking, and Hermione had absolutely no idea why on earth he was speaking to her.

“Would you like to dance?”

Sucking in her breath, Hermione stared wide-eyed at him, as if the man was slightly insane. No one asked her to dance—ever! Even during the Yule ball several years earlier she had practically had to beg Krum to dance with her!

Still smiling, the man offered his hand, which Hermione took.

Malfoy, who was watching everything now stood abruptly, with a loud scraping of his chair.

“Now hold up there,” he began heatedly, throwing his napkin onto the table.

The man eyed Malfoy, gave a dismissive nod, and continued walking away with Hermione on his arm. Malfoy, however, was having none of that. It was one thing to despise the girl sitting next to you, but it was quite another when someone assumed that she was there for the taking. It had nothing to do with feelings for Granger, (at least that’s what Draco seemed determined to tell himself) it was about pride.

“I believe she’s with me,” Draco shot in a voice learned from his father. It was etched in malice and entirely persuasive, but that didn’t seem to stop the man. Storming over to them, Malfoy grabbed Hermione’s other arm, pulling her away from the man and positioning her behind him as if he were her bodyguard.

The man stood in front of Malfoy, his eyes narrowing. Despite being younger, Malfoy had a better physique, and was the taller of the two.

“Would you please leave us alone?” the man asked in a thick French accent. Hermione could tell he was getting pretty pissed off, and that if Malfoy didn’t go away soon, there might be some real trouble. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to step in.

“No! She’s with me!”

Hermione looked away, she didn’t want to have to choose who she would stay with. Unfortunately, Hermione really had no choice.

The man walked around Malfoy, grabbed Hermione’s arm as if she were a desired rag doll, and proceeded to walk to the dance floor.

Malfoy didn’t have to say anything; he just grabbed the man’s arm, and flung him around. Again, they were facing each other, but this time Malfoy wasted no time punching him—hard.

The man cowered, and there were uproars in the crowd. Before Hermione could scold Malfoy, or help the man, Malfoy took her arm, and strode out of the restaurant, throwing some money on to their table.

Quickly opening the door, they walked outside, the cold air hitting them sharply. It was like they had suddenly awoken from a day dream, and made them realize what had just happened.

“Malfoy, I—,” Hermione began softly.

“Look, just, don’t say anything ok! I know you’re angry, but just shut up for one minute!” Draco cut in, his voice tired and exasperated.

“No, Malfoy—I just,” Hermione continued meekly.

Sighing dramatically, he stopped to face her.

“Fine, let’s hear it then. How long are you gonna shout at me for?” He asked, looking down at his watch for extra effect.

“Well you kind of saved me,” she admitted bashfully, glancing at her hands.

Malfoy, who was not really expecting that, gave her a puzzled look.

“Well,” she said, blushing and looking at her feet. “I can’t really dance.”

Malfoy smiled, but before he could say anything he was met with a distinctive click. He groaned.

Damn camera.

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