"What else could it be? Isn't this to suit your way of thinking? We were afraid you'd find the Malfoy family mansion too ostentatious, and that a hotel would be more comfortable."
The moment the words were spoken, the carriage fell silent.
"Wow!" Pheobe and Gabrielle exchanged a glance and exclaimed, their eyes sparkling with amusement.
" Draco, you're so thoughtful!" Pheobe said with a smile.
She was seemingly speaking to Draco, but she was actually looking at Hermione.
"Yes, that's so thoughtful!" Gabrielle agreed.
Hermione steamed, abruptly turning to look at Draco, her cheeks flushing red at a visible speed.
The question that had just slipped out was still on the tip of his tongue, but now he was rendered speechless by this sudden teasing.
Her gaze quickly shifted away, not daring to look at Draco, nor at the smiling Pheobe and Gabrielle beside her, and she could only pretend to look at the French street scene flashing past the window.
"What thoughtfulness? Don't talk nonsense... He was just saying it casually. Draco would never do such a thing."
Hearing her explanation, Draco deliberately didn't expose her, simply leaning lazily against the cushions and saying, "Did you hear that? I was just saying it casually, don't misunderstand."
But these insincere words seemed even more deliberate to Pheobe and Gabrielle.
Gabrielle retorted softly, "But it's clearly just being thoughtful, Hermione, your face is all red!"
Hearing Gabrielle's words, Hermione's face burned even hotter, wishing she could disappear into a carriage.
"Don't talk nonsense, you little kid."
Pheobe smiled and pulled Gabrielle along, winking at Hermione, her smile widening.
"Alright, alright, let's stop talking about it. But Hermione, you mustn't let Draco's good intentions go to waste."
Hermione bit her lip and didn't say anything more, but the little deer in her heart was beating faster and faster.
She couldn't even appreciate the scenery outside the window anymore.
Draco's words, and the words of the Pheobe sisters, kept echoing in my mind.
Back in the Muggle world, the Thestral carriage stopped beside a quiet, tree-lined avenue in Paris.
The magical spell on the carriage had not yet faded, Muggle pedestrians brushed past without noticing the ancient carriage.
As dusk approached, the orange-red afterglow slanted down, turning the leaves of the plane trees lining the streets into a warm gold.
The evening breeze carries the faint aroma of coffee and bread, a unique, vibrant atmosphere characteristic of Muggle Paris.
The group disembarked from the carriage one after another. Pheobe, holding Gabrielle's hand, smiled and made a promise to Draco and Hermione:
"We'll meet at Montmartre Square tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM, and I'll take you to the market."
"Okay." Draco nodded in agreement.
Hermione nodded in agreement.
After a brief farewell, Pheobe led Gabrielle toward the subway station, their small figures quickly blending into the crowd on the street.
As the pedestrians on the street gradually disappeared into the distance, Draco naturally took Hermione's hand, glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and whispered, "Hold on tight."
Hermione had just grasped his hand when, in the next second, the two appeared in front of the wrought-iron gate of a French-style detached villa, the Apparition breeze ruffling her hair.
It was quiet here, and the courtyard wall was covered with deep purple magical wisteria, its petals shimmering with a faint light in the twilight.
Outside the courtyard is a dense grove of sycamore trees.
"Wife, do you want to stay at the mansion, or go back to the Muggle hotel?" Draco asked.
Hermione gazed at the impressive yet understated mansion before her and retorted, "Since we're already here, what do you say?"
"I should ask for your opinion." Draco chuckled, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
As he spoke, Draco took her hand and pushed open the wrought iron gate.
The door hinges clicked softly, and as soon as I stepped into the courtyard, the House-elf kept in this mansion appeared before me.
They bowed low, their large ears drooping, and respectfully said, "Little master, Miss Hermione, welcome home!"
After the House-elf finished speaking, an old butler dressed in a sharp black tailcoat walked in from the main gate of the mansion.
His hair was meticulously combed, and his bow was elegant and dignified.
"Young master, Miss Hermione, the mansion has been prepared as you instructed; the rooms and meals are all ready."
Draco nodded slightly and patted one of the House-elf on the head. "Good job, go down now."
"Yes, young master!"
The two House-elf responded and then Apparition a "snap," disappearing from the courtyard.
The butler stepped aside in an inviting gesture. "Young master, Miss Hermione, please come in."
"Let's go, let's see if Malfoy's Paris mansion suits Miss Granger's taste." Draco smiled and took Hermione's hand, walking towards the main entrance.
This private Paris residence is distinctly different from the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, Britain.
Malfoy Manor, the core residence of the Pure-blood families, is a Gothic-style building that covers a vast area and is magnificent in scale.
The courtyard features meticulously manicured yew hedges and fountain sculptures, while the interior is decorated primarily in black, silver, and green.
The Paris residence, on the other hand, was a separate house that the Malfoy family had acquired for foreign affairs, and it was much smaller than the estate.
The overall style is French neoclassical, understated and elegant, hidden deep in the shade of trees next to the bustling city. It lacks the oppressive feeling of a manor and has more of a leisurely atmosphere.
The interior is decorated in off-white, light gold, and pale purple as the base colors, paired with exquisite French carvings and soft fabrics.
Dinner was served in the small dining room of the mansion. Even though it was one of the smaller dining tables in the mansion, it was still a long, solid wood table.
The wooden table was covered with a cream-colored velvet tablecloth, and silver cutlery and crystal glasses were neatly arranged.
Draco and Hermione sat side by side at the dining table. The large table made their figures appear particularly slender, and the soft clinking of cutlery was clearly audible in the quiet dining room.
Hermione gently sliced the pan-seared foie gras on her plate with her silver fork, glanced at the other end of the empty table, and said, "The table is too big; it makes the two of us... feel a bit lonely."
Draco, who was sipping a glass of red wine, looked up at the words, put down his glass, and replied:
"Understood. I'll have the housekeeper find some small tables, like the small round table by the window, so we can eat somewhere else next time."
Hermione was taken aback, not expecting his reaction. A slight smile appeared on her lips, and she softly said, "Oh."
After finishing their meal, the two moved to the sofa in the living room and sat down. Draco took out his wand and gently tapped it on Hermione.
A faint silver magical light swirled around her, slowly moving along her hair, collar, and trousers.
The dust I picked up today, the tiny oil stains from food spills, and the barely noticeable lint on my clothes were all swept up by the magical glow, turning into tiny specks of light that dissipated into the air.
Immediately afterwards, he cast the same spell on himself. A faint silver light swept across his body, and his clothes were instantly spotless, even the wrinkles on his cuffs were smoothed out by the magic.
Hermione watched his movements, then touched her own sleeve; it was spotless, and she sighed softly.
"I often forget to use magic to serve myself; it's probably because I've spent too much time in the Muggle world. The Ministry of Magic doesn't allow the use of magic in front of Muggle."