Obliviate

Chapter Ten | Bienvenue à Paris

"So," the Minister began, pulling an old, antique looking chair from under his desk and taking a seat, "Mr Malfoy - Miss Granger."

His eyes darted between the unusual pair, "your visit to Paris is to help investigate the attack against the Ministry, am I correct?" Mr Cariveau asked, already seeming to know the answer.

Hermione resisted snorting. Small talk wasn't her thing - and watching others do it, gave her second hand embarrassment.

She still couldn't bring herself to speak after vomiting onto Arthur's shoes. They were probably worth more than she'd ever be able to afford in her life.

The embarrassment clouded Hermione's mind.

Draco stalked over to a rich-brown leather armchair seated in front of Mr Cariveau's desk, and seating himself - swinging one leg over the other.

"We are, yes. There has also been sightings of a missing person located in Europe - so whilst we are here, we will also be keeping an eye out for that too," he said. Hermione was slightly shocked at how professional Malfoy was being.

She slowly walked over to the empty chair a few meters away from Draco and sat down in an attempt to make herself feel less awkward.

"How unfortunate," Mr Cariveau began, sliding a bottle of alcohol from under his desk alongside a beautiful whiskey tumblr, pouring in a generous amount.

He looked up at Draco with solemn eyes, holding the bottle up.

"Michael Couvreur, 1879. Would you care for a glass?" Arthur asked, reaching under the desk to grab another whiskey Tumblr.

His French accent was rich and rolled off his tongue effortlessly. Hermione might have excelled in Hogwarts for magic, but languages weren't her forte. She loved the idea of being able to speak another language - to move away from her old life and live without fear - to start anew.

The language was almost as beautiful as the city of love itself.

"Why thank you, I may have to indulge in that offer," Draco replied back to him with a smile. Hermione could see he'd already been persuaded - he was just being polite.

A smug smile creeped onto Hermione's face.

Mr Cariveau filled Draco's glass halfway with the whiskey and handed it over to him, his long fingers wrapping around it - nodding in acknowledgment as he brought the glass to his lips and took a good sip.

Draco swallowed, screwing his face up slightly and laughing, causing the Minister to laugh with him.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Men.

"Good, yes?" The Minister asked, still chuckling at Draco's reaction to the drink.

Draco cleared his throat, bringing the glass down to his lap and resting it on his thigh, "very beautiful - but I defiently did not expect it to be so strong," he laughed out, running his other hand through his platinum blonde hair.

"One of my finest whiskeys. Only for special occasions," the Minister announced, shooting him a civilised glance. Hermione stayed silent. No matter the age, boys will be boys, she thought to herself.

As the two chatted amongst themselves, Hermione found herself inspecting the room, taking in each and every small aspect.

The Minister's office was painted a beautiful array of coffee colours - from mocha, to Frappuccino. The earthy tones blended together beautifully, giving Hermione a homey feel.

Golden patterned coving ran across each of the walls, swirls draping down. Every little thing looked beautiful to Hermione.

The most beautiful part of all, was the large bookcase in the corner of the office. Two leather loveseats and a rug made of animal fur sat beside it, looking like the perfect paradise to Hermione.