Author's Note: These stories are all one-shot, 1000-word responses to the Summer Writing Series Challenge, so each one is not related to
the next.
Summer Writing Series Challenge (June 16)
Challenge: Hermione twists an ankle and Harry helps her.
Title: Paris, With a Twist
Word Count: 1,000
"Harry, you can't carry me!"
"Yes, I can. Just get on, would you?"
"But Harry..."
"Look, would you rather I carry you, or mobilicorpus you back? Because you're not walking on that, we can't Apparate, and I think Mr. Weasley might get mad if I used magic out here."
Hermione sighed and looked at her ankle. It was beginning to swell. Harry glanced over his shoulder at her with a "Well?" look, and she gave in.
"Oh, alright. But if I get too heavy..."
"You won't be too heavy. What kind of weakling do you take me for? Now get on already, my knees are getting tired," he said, grinning.
Hermione rolled her eyes. He was kneeling, his back to her, in front of the bench where she sat. She scooted forward, encircled his neck with her arms, and wrapped her legs around his waist.
"Good girl," he said as he looped his arms behind him and around her legs. "Now let's go get you fixed up."
He stood up and she gasped slightly.
"You alright?" he asked.
"Yes, fine. My head just spun a little when you stood."
He started walking toward the hotel, and despite her pain, she smiled. The world looked quite different from Harry Potter's point of view.
"Harry, you'll stop if I get too heavy...?"
"Hermione!"
"I just don't want to wear you out," she said. "Besides, we won't get far at all if you collapse!" she added with a laugh.
"Woman," he growled, "if you weren't injured..."
"You'd what?"
"Err...well..."
"That's what I thought," she said victoriously and he laughed.
They traveled a bit further in silence. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted out from little cafés, but all she could smell was his cologne mingled with his shampoo, and the aroma was intoxicating. Feeling a bit lightheaded, she rested her head against his and closed her eyes.
"You sure you're feeling ok?" he asked.
"Mmhmm."
"You know, Ron's going to get tease you mercilessly when he finds out."
She raised her head. "You won't tell him, will you?"
"I don't intend to. But he'll find out…you know he will. We're all in the same hotel."
She sighed. "You're right."
"And Fred and George…"
"Oh, no," she groaned. "This is not going to be a fun week."
"Well, Mrs. Weasley will get you fixed up and hopefully you'll be as good as new in time for the game. You can't come all this way for the Quidditch World Cup and miss it!"
The day was warm, and the streets of Paris were quite crowded. Harry weaved in and out of swarms of tourists with Hermione on his back. As they traveled up Rue de la Cité on their way back to the hotel, they passed Notre Dame Cathedral.
"Look, Harry! Notre Dame," Hermione pointed out. "It's so beautiful. We should go in."
"I'm afraid we'll have to come back later. I think if I walked in there with you on my back like this, I might be mistaken for Quasimodo."
"Harry!" She playfully slapped his arm and laughed. "You've read Hugo?"
"Err, no…I watched the film though," he grinned.
"Of course," she replied cheekily. "Well, we could go around the back to see the gargoyles and the flying buttresses."
Harry paused. "I'm not even going to comment on that one. Besides, I thought you were concerned about me getting too tired. You are pretty heavy you know," he teased.
"Harry!" she scolded, still laughing at his taunting.
He carried her further and turned on Avenue Victoria. Suddenly her head was feeling a bit woozy.
"What are we doing tomorrow?" she asked, trying not to think about the pain.
"Well that would depend on your ankle, wouldn't it? I think it's probably broken, or fractured, which in either case will require a healthy dose Skelemend."
"Yuck."
"But assuming you'll be walking again, I believe the Weasleys have to go to the French Ministry in the afternoon..."
"One of the many perks of being Minister of Magic..."
"Along with free World Cup tickets.... Anyway, that leaves us free to do what we like. Then tomorrow night we're all going to the Delacours'. They've invited us for dinner and to meet Gaillard."
"Is that Fleur's cousin? The Beater for French National?"
"Yes."
"I wonder where Bill and Fleur will sit at the match…."
"I suppose they'll be back and forth…sit with us a while to support England, then sit with her family."
"But that's a lot of stair climbing for her in her condition!"
"I'm sure she'll be fine. You can't expect her to just sit around for five more months and wait for the baby to come. You wouldn't…I know you."
"Oh, I suppose not."
The pain in her ankle was increasing, and beginning to throb a little. She leaned her head against his once again, her nose just above his ear.
"Hey! That tickles!"
"What?"
"You're breathing in my ear…"
"Oh, sorry," she said softly, but she didn't move her head. In fact, she didn't speak or move at all as they made the next block.
"Are you feeling alright? You've gotten quiet…"
"I'm just a bit dizzy," she said, closing her eyes.
"We'll be there soon," he replied, lightly squeezing her for comfort.
At last Harry rounded the final corner and the hotel was in sight, just a few blocks away.
"Harry?" she said dreamily, sounding quite like Luna.
"Yes?"
"I want to go to the Louvre."
"Can you wait until we get to the hotel? We're nearly there."
"What?" she asked with confusion, then realized, "No, not the loo! The Louvre; the museum. You know…paintings, sculptures…"
"Oh! Yes, that. Alright, we'll go tomorrow. But it'll probably just be us two…Ron won't go."
"Why not?"
"He doesn't see any point in looking at paintings that can't talk."
She sighed. "That's fine…his loss. Anyway, I like when it's just the two of us."
Hermione couldn't see it, but Harry smiled sweetly. "So do I."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A/N: Ok, a bit of a cliffie there, but I have continued it with the next challenge...I just ran out of room. :) So read
the challenge for 06-17-04 to get the follow-up.