cherry in paris


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Originally posted by free-ricksanchez

anonymous asked:

I read this fanfic probably a year ago on fanfiction net. I want to re read it now but I can't find a trace of it on the internet!!!!Here is what i remember about it : Post-hogwarts - Hermione goes for Auror Training in Paris and there befriends a girl called Ariana. Draco and Blaise are businessmen trying to strike a deal in Paris. They all meet at a club one night where Hermione and Draco are surprised to see each other. Hermione's mother also visits her in her hotel room. Please help!!!! :(

I haven’t read this whole thing, but I think it’s this:

Destiny by Annie Lockwood - T, 31 chapters -  Hermione’s wedding night is everything but perfect for the young witch. Her new husband and long-time friend, Ronald, is passed out drunk and she thinks upon her life leading up to that night. Hermione falls asleep, despondent and alone. When she wakes up the following morning, she is still in bed with her husband. But it isn’t Ronald Weasley.



Thanks, @delicate-cherry!

Serendipity by Anne Lockwood - T, WIP (currently 17 chapters) -  “We were meant to cross paths, and even if we die this very instant, we’ll find each other again. Our souls are connected. Enemies, friends, lovers, whatever it may be.” With nothing more than a faded dream directing her, Hermione flees her safe harbor on an altering journey to re-discover herself and the mysterious man that still calls to her in her dreams. Sequel to Destiny.

Let’s go to Paris.
I don’t care if it’s cliche,
If we are to make history, I want an impressive backdrop.
Let the cherry petals fall as we walk,
Whispering to each other about these mysterious newcomers who seem to have brought spring in the middle of winter.
Wear your best dress, wear no shoes,
Let’s dance down long-forgotten streets and remind them why this is the city of love.
The Eiffel Tower will bow ever so slightly and ask for a dance of his own, and no lights will burn out from the time we get there.
And they’ll need them because
I will pick you your favorite stars and slip them into your pockets.
I will carve our names into every tree in this city until
Boys and girls we haven’t met will wonder about us in a hundred years
There will be poems exalting the harmonies our breathing made.
This will no longer be a dot on the map but
A heart.
—  Let’s teach the mapmakers a thing or two, Elizabeth McNamara