Believe Me When I Say I Love You!

A/N: my first new posting in a while, I'm just getting back into the swing of things. Excuse the grammatical errors or mistakes, I have no beta. :)


In a muggle café in the heart of Paris, a blonde haired man sat with his head buried in the Daily Prophet. It had become his usual haunt, nobody knew him. He could walk through the streets without people nudging their companions and discreetly pointing in his direction. They weren't as discreet as they thought they were, Draco knew who they were looking at. This is where the move to Paris came in, his parents weren't too thrilled but they could hardly blame him. The French wizarding world knew what had happened, surprisingly they were more accepting. Draco, although he played a large role in the war, was very sorry for his actions.

He drained the last of his latte, paid the waiter and walked along the sun-bathed streets tucking the newspaper under his arm. His flat showed none of the wealth Malfoy Manor had done, it was clean; white walls, laminated floors and pine furniture with a small wrought iron balcony looking over la Place du Tertre. The hustle and bustle of the shoppers outside provided welcome relief from the solitude of his thoughts. Less than a minute after walking through the door, his phone beeped. Draco picked up his mobile and looked at the text he had just been sent.

Draco, party tonight at the Bureau. Up for it? Use the floo, you'll come out in the back room. Let me know if you're coming. Party starts at 9. Dom.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair before replying, with nothing else planned for the rest of the week, tonight would be a chance to get out a bit. He was a bit hesitant about people's reactions, after all, that's why he'd moved in the first place. He sighed, sod it, I'm not going to run away for ever, Draco replied to Dom's text.

It was surprising how well adapted Draco had become to the muggle way of life, he still used his magic, it was a part of him he wasn't prepared to let go. It surprised him how even he could embrace both worlds, the war had taught him that muggles and muggleborns were no inferior to the wizarding world, they had adapted to lives without magic well. Of course, he'd learnt the hard way. After moving to Paris, he quickly realised he'd need to fend for himself, he withdrew a portion of his money from Gringotts and had it converted into muggle Euros with that money he rented himself a one bed roomed flat above a restaurant. He'd learnt to cook from the lady downstairs. She was his landlady, a lovely woman of sixty named Delphine, she lived in the flat below on her own since her husband died. She had been the one who took him under her wing, a mother of sorts. It was a good thing he was taught French as a child and now spoke it fluently because Delphine didn't speak a word of English.

The clock on the mantle chimed quietly and brought him out of his thoughts, it told him it was seven thirty, deciding a shower and a change of clothes were in order, he turned away to get ready for the night ahead.

The Bureau was a private members-only club, it wasn't over the top glamour which was what Draco had been brought up with, it was understated chic and more Draco's type of thing. Men in Dolce suits sat at the bar drinking scotch on the rocks while the women floated around in Gucci cocktail dresses, sipping martinis while socialising with the rich and famous of the world. Witches and wizards alike conversed with ease regardless of past or affiliates. Draco's eagle eyes sought out Dom, the dark haired wizard always had a group of women around him, his angular jaw and blue eyes seemed to be somewhat of a turn-on for the ladies. Draco gave his friend a small wave before taking a seat at the bar and ordering a whisky. Dom subtly brushed off the crowd of women before making his way over to his friend, nodding his head he took a seat next to Draco.

"I see you're enjoying yourself." Draco said dryly.

"Well, private parties can sometimes get boring. You know how it is. How's life in Paris?"

"French." Draco replied. Both men laughed. Then Draco eyed a woman across the bar; a fitted red dress clung to a body with curves in all the right places. Dark chestnut hair hung in 1940's waves down her back, black patent heels with red soled adorned her feet which enhanced her legs to the point of perfection. Then she turned around and Draco immediately choked on his drink, not only did she have the body of Aphrodite herself, but she had the face of Hermione Granger.

"Draco?" Dom hit his friend on the back with vigour as Draco cleared his throat. "You alright mate?"

"What? Yeah… yeah I'm fine. Just, caught off guard I guess." Draco's eyes scanned the room for Hermione, he found her and his eyes landed on her nicely rounded backside. Dominic turned around keen to find the object of his friend's interest, his eyes also landed on Hermione and he smiled knowingly before turning to Draco.

"Not bad, Draco, but tell me, why are you still here when you could go and talk to her?" Draco shook his head.

"It's, it's complicated."

"When is it simple?" Both men chuckled once more, Draco drained his glass and stood up, smoothing any possible creases in his trousers he made he way over to Hermione. She wasn't at all how he remembered her, she seemed to carry herself differently when she wasn't hauling a ton of books, she was more.. elegant and sophisticated. She turned around once more as her crowd of friends moved on, he caught her arm, her chocolate eyes fell upon him in shock at the sudden contact. In all the years he'd teased and tormented her he'd never once laid a finger on her. Her eyes widened.

"What," her voice was low and poisonous, "do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" He quickly snatched his hand away, he looked confused. He had to touch her, although he didn't know why. Her skin felt so soft yet her eyes were fierce. Draco backed away slightly.

"I'm sorry Gra- Hermione. I really am."

"You've got balls, coming here. Coming over to me- of all people."

"I just, I. I don't know. I'm sorry. I had to."

"Had to what?" Her voice dripped with venom. "Torment me further?"

"No," he protested. "Not at all."

"I think you'd better go." She said. Draco simply nodded as he backed away, disappeared into the back room where he promptly stepped into the fireplace without a word and vanished home, in a flourish of green flames.