At the end of February, Darian had decided London was not safe. His months of scraping by encounters with the Cirque de la Lune had culminated in a fashion show where their leader Jean-Luc had threatened him with a knife to his throat and him on his knees.[1] The alley encounter immediately after where Jean-Luc snatched him from the street and leaned him tenderly against a wall to explain that he hadn't meant it, that he'd had no choice, had rang an additional dozen extremely loud warning bells.[2] Darian wasn't entirely sure what Jean-Luc wanted with him. He'd been foggy on the other man's motives for the whole of their acquaintanceship. But he knew lust when he saw it and was rightly worried of obsession; Jean-Luc was violent, unpredictable, confusing, and not the sort to like hearing the word "no."

So Darian ran. His friends and family - those few in the loop - had actively encouraged him to go. Oh, he didn't intend to stay away forever. Just until Jean-Luc left London again. The Cirque de la Lune he'd been lead to believe was highly migratory, and whatever their interactions he didn't believe he was more important to Jean-Luc than business. With any luck the man would move on when he concluded his affairs.

Until then, the designer meant to lounge luxuriously in the springtime of Paris. Probably subtly. It hurt him not to throw himself into the public fashion scene but Jean-Luc was a Frenchman by birth. There was no point in leaving London to hide if he didn't, well, hide. He'd rented a place in Muggle Paris - the Right Bank, of course - for an exorbitant rate. It was old and airy, full of the pale Rococo he adored, but some genius has renovated the place with all the creature comforts the previous money-burning socialite could afford. It had a garage for the car Darian did not and would never own, a sumptuous elecktric kitchen, a tiny office-turned-gym, even a glass addition onto the back containing a small pool. A pool! In Paris! He was going to live like a king. He kept it so warm in that pool room that the windows stayed steamed. The upper floor was even better, all glass and a large balcony overlooking the Seine. It made Darian sad for the parties he could not host on it.

Because, to be sure, he had the perfect set-up for debauchery and leisure of the highest order. Misa was running Libertine for him with her new assistant Juliette. He could owl them designs, handle some business remotely, yet in general there wasn't anything for him to do except relax. When he heard from Tapendra that he'd gotten time off work for a visit, Darian was extraordinarily and instantly excited. He'd only been in Paris a couple of weeks and already he was bored.

He waited at Gare du Nord when the train from London rolled in. He was casually Muggle in his attire and boyish in his enthusiasm, laughing as he leapt at Tapendra on the platform and threw his arms around him in an embrace.

"How good to see you!" Darian exclaimed, beaming with his chin in Tapendra's shoulder and his face upturned. "Thanks for coming! Let me take your bag."

1.	Stopwatch Hearts, Feb. 19th
2.	Eyes on Fire, immediately after.

It was nice, in a way, to escape from both the Wizarding World and Hogwarts. Others might not have understood how the bustle and chaos of St Pancas in the morning was relaxing - especially when he’d already been up for hours, flooing away from Hogwarts to his home to pack. But it was impersonal and comfortable, a rhythm of life that felt less complex than the mess of interpersonal strife and politics the castle had become. It was literally stepping into a different world.

He’d had to pay more than he’d liked to get a ticket to Paris at this short of notice, the morning train sold out all the way to Business class. But despite how much lighter his pocketbook felt it was worth it to have four hours in a nice seat, his laptop open in front of him as the landscape whizzed by and finally went dark as they darted under the channel.

Just weeks ago this sort of trip would have made him nervous - the implications of his relationship with Darian worrying and difficult to put into words for himself, much less anyone else. But now it seemed a relief. He’d never been to Paris except on business, and he found himself looking forward to seeing what it had to offer with Darian as his guide.

He dressed casually - too casually for business class, he’d realized when he’d sat down among the men and women clad in nice suits and well-combed hair. The worn cardigan and tee-shirt he’d donned made him look like he’d found the wrong seat, but - well, it wasn’t too long into the trip that he decided he didn’t really give a damn. It was a nice feeling, to have decided that, and he was soon setted into his seat, typing away.

He wasn’t expecting the Darian that met him - looking incredibly young, his red hair loose and wild around his neck and collarbone. Darian dressed down had a wildly youthful appeal to him that stopped Tapendra dead for a moment, blinking. The flush rose without bidding as he handed the younger man his bag.

It was with only a moment’s hesitation, then, that he wrapped his arm around Darian’s shoulders.

“It’s good to see you, too,” he said, smiling. “London’s quieter without you around.”

"Undoubtedly," Darian replied, looking for a moment immensely self-satisfied. And completely boring, Tapendra might as well have said. He swung Tapendra's bag in a cheerful and irrepressible way.

"What do you want to do first?" he asked. "See the city? Eat? Stop in at my place?" All valid options, though the ride hadn't been so long that he thought Tapendra might need to freshen up. Still he offered, and if Tapendra chose the latter they likely wouldn't emerge until dinner. It had been simply terrible for Darian to leave his pet project alone so soon. He hadn't gotten to know the other as well as he would've liked, and now full of fierce enthusiasm it was only the public setting that'd stopped him from climbing Tapendra like a tree.

It was so good to see him! He hadn't been exaggerating that at all. He was manic, absolutely full of energy, and he leaned into Tapendra with adoring relief. "It's been quiet here too," he confided. "Really unbearable. I've been so low-key."

He fell in alongside him, looking up at the station. It was both grander than he’d expected and plainer than he’d hoped; but then, he knew full well he’d yet to see the wizarding side of Paris - which was undoubtedly spectacular. He’d be disappointed in the French if it wasn’t, after all the stories he’d heard.

He flushed, very slightly, at the thought of stopping at Darian’s right away - no, better to make good on the man’s infectiously energetic mood now. As much as he wouldn’t mind either way - “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you’re alright with that,” he said amicably. “I haven’t been to Paris before. In effect.” Certainly he’d never been on the side of the river he suspected Darian was living on.

Tapendra leaned in slightly so what he said next wasn’t as clear to listening ears. “I’ve heard stories about wizarding Paris. If you like it here I’m hoping that means they’re true.”