La Vie en Rose

Chapter 11: Ah, Paris!

A couple was holding hands in the streets of Paris. They were smiling, they were happy. No one could have guessed it was the first time they were holding hands. They had been in love for so long... yet, they had spent years denying it, then being scared that the other might not feel the same way. When one of them finally got the guts to tell the other, she thought it was too late, that she had lost him forever to another woman. She had made love to him the night before his wedding, knowing she would leave the next day and never come back to England. It was a goodbye gift. She thought she'd never see him again. What she hadn't known was that he would cancel his wedding to be with her and that as a consequence his fiancée would commit suicide, and that after five long years of pain and grief, they would finally hold hands. In Paris of all places. At the top of the cathedral of Notre-Dame, on the island of La Cité.

As they were climbing up the last step leading to the top of the towers of the cathedral, Hermione Granger, wrapped up warmly in her coat, couldn't help but tell Ronald Weasley about the history of the church. He was smiling, trying not to laugh.

"... and in 1804, Napoleon proclaimed himself emperor of France here. And do you know that the towers are 69 metres high! and..." She eyed him suspiciously. "What are you laughing about?"

He chuckled.

"You."

"Me?" she asked, incredulous.

"You haven't changed... I mean... I feel like I'm in front of an eleven-year-old Hermione. Like I'm trying to impress the famous Harry Potter with a spell and you come in and..."

"And bossily tell you that this spell isn't working."

He hid his face, blushing slightly.

"Come on, you didn't say that..."

"Sort of..."

"You hurt me that day. I mean, my eleven-year-old pride was hurt."

"Do you remember Halloween 1991? The day you fought the troll with Harry in our first year?"

"Of course! How could I forget?"

"That day... you hurt me for the first time. I had been very bossy and deserved what you said, but you hurt me."

"No, you did not," he said as she was saying the last words of her sentence.

"Did not what?"

"Deserve what I told my mates that day. You are not a nightmare. I was just too stupid to realize it at the time. You are more of a dream came true than a nightmare."

"Speaking of nightmares... you know... these last five years have been a nightmare for me."

"Hermione..." he started, leaning against the brick wall to let the other visitors get onto the platform,

"Remember... today, we're... today, everything's the way it should have been. I know we need to talk but I could not stand it right now. Let me love you today. Please? Tomorrow'll come soon enough."

There were tears in her brown eyes.

"I know," she whispered. "And you have no idea how much I'd like tomorrow to never come."

She pressed his hand and headed for the platform. She heard him say, "These last five years have been a nightmare for me, too."

She ran her fingers under one eye to wipe a tear away and walked to her right. For a second, he felt like she was going to disappear, to vanish from the tower, to evaporate in the air. He walked after her and engulfed her in his arms. He tried to convince himself that it was silly, she couldn't go anywhere, but fear had clutched his stomach once more and he had acted the way his heart had told him to.

"Ron?" Hermione asked, surprised and worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"But..."

"Hermione, please..." he pleaded.

"Alright..."

"Kiss me."

She turned round and placed her lips against his. He kissed her hungrily, trying to make the fear go away. Once he had calmed down a bit, his kisses grew softer. He took her face in his hands and locked eyes with her. Her eyes were full of questions. He tried to answer it.

"We're... strange when we're in love."

She lowered her eyes.

"We are."

He smiled. It was enough of an answer for her. He had no doubt she knew he was scared of losing her again.

"Now let's go. I want to see Paris from here!"

He took her hand, bringing her closer to the edge of the tower. He could see the top of the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

"Not... not too close, Ron."

He turned his head. She looked frightened. Worry instantly filled his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm... I'm scared."

"Hermione..."

"I know it's... ridiculous but I don't want to get too close to the edge..."

"It's like flying a broomstick!"

"Ron!" Hermione said, turning her head around looking if someone had heard him.

"Relax!"

She sighed.

"You know I've never been a good flyer."

"You can't be the best in everything, you know."

Though said without any intention of hurting her, this sentence did affect Hermione. She buried her face in her hands and pressed the heels of her hands against her closed eyes.

"Don't think I believe I'm the best in everything. I know I'm clever, but I suck at many other things... relationships being one of them."

There was an awkward silence until he asked, "Do you trust me, Hermione?"

She thought for a second. He had trusted her the same day, when she had asked him to close his eyes. She had seen the fear in his eyes, the fear that she might go away, that she might leave him again. Yet, he had done as she had asked. She would be so unfair not doing him the same favour. And he was Ron. He was not some stranger. She had known him for fourteen years, been in love with him for almost as long as that.

"Yes, I do trust you, Ron."

"Then come with me near the edge. I'll hold you in my arms, close to me. I won't let you go. I don't want to look at Paris without you."

She took a deep breath and said, "Okay."

"Close your eyes."

She did as he had asked and closed her eyes, feeling him kiss her hand. He then led her to the very edge of the tower, in front of the fence and made her slide in front of him. He held her close against his strong chest with one of his hands around her waist. She placed one of her hands on his large one that was resting on her stomach. He put her other hand on the fence and covered it with his warm one.

He leaned into her neck and kissed it before whispering in her ear, "Open your eyes."

She opened them and was struck by the sight of Paris in front of her. She had been on top of the towers before, but when she had she had been sad and hadn't paid much attention to the sight, her mind wandering elsewhere, in the turmoil of her thoughts. But now that he was with her and that some happiness had entered her heart at last, she could enjoy it completely. She could see the town hall, Beaubourg, the Centre Pompidou, the Eiffel Tower far away, and the Seine down below.

She heard Ron sigh and turned her head. He was looking at the Eiffel Tower, sadness in his eyes.

"Ron?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Nothing..."

"Ron..."

"Not today, Hermione," he said somewhat briskly.

"Alright."

She lowered her eyes, looking hurt. He noticed it and put a finger under her chin, forcing her to make eye contact with him.

"Hey... I didn't mean to be rude... I'm sorry."

"Don't be..."

He pulled her close against his chest. She buried her head in the fabric of his coat.

"What do you say we go have a drink?"

"Okay."

He took her hand and they walked down the stairs to the nave of the cathedral. They walked out of it and stared for a moment at the little plate in the ground in front of the cathedral marking the zero kilometre of all the French roads.

"I think we should wait to be back near Montmartre before having this drink you mentionned," she said at last, smiling.

"We'll do as you say, my Lady."

"Is there something else you wanted to see in Paris? We've been to Beaubourg, to the Centre Pompidou, to Notre-Dame..."

"To the Louvres..."

"How could I forget the Louvres?" she asked, smacking her forehead with her hand.

"I'd like to visit it another day... We've only seen it from the outside. It looks great."

Hermione didn't answer. She liked this new intimacy they had developped since the morning and this truce they had agreed on. But as the day was coming to its end (it was then way past six p.m.), she was getting more and more worried about how the next day would be. Would they have a future together? Could they still have a future together? Would she ever translate La Vie en Rose to him? Would they ever visit le Louvres together?

They walked in silence to the nearest Underground station and waited there for an undergound train.

"I'd like to see the Moulin Rouge."

"Okay. But Nicole Kidman isn't there you know," she joked.

"Nicole who?" he asked as he sat on a bench nearby.

"Oh that's true," she realized, sitting next to him. "Ron, have you ever been to the movies?"

"What?"

"Do you know what a movie is, Ron?"

"I do!" he answered somewhat proudly. "Harry told me, you know. He told me it was like wizard pictures but with people pretending to be other people and that it's telling a story."

"That's right. Well, Nicole Kidman is an actress. It's her job to pretend to be someone else."

"Why are you talking about her anyway?" he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to him.

"Well, she played in a movie, a few years ago, entitled Moulin Rouge."

"What was the - movie - all about?"

"It's a love story taking place in Montmartre and in the Moulin Rouge, in 1899 or 1900, I don't remember right now. Anyway, she plays a courtesan who falls in love with a writer. It's a wonderful movie. But very sad."

"The way you talk about it, I'd like to see it."

He planted a kiss on her lips.

"I wish you could..." she said, her eyes still closed from the kiss.

A loud noise suddenly brought her attention away.

"Ah, here's our train."

They got out of the train at the station 'Barbès Rochechouart' and walked up le boulevard Rochechouart and then le boulevard de Clichy to go to the Moulin Rouge.

"It's like the pictures I saw in a book I found in a library in Diagon Alley. Less impressive maybe."

But Hermione wasn't listening. Her eyes were riveted to a poster glued to a round hoarding nearby. He walked to her. She had her back to him. He poked at her in the ribs, saying 'Boo' at the same time. She jumped away, screaming.

"Ron! You silly man! You scared me!"

"That was my goal, I have to say," he said, pulling her to him and locking his hands behind her back.

"What were you looking at so intently?"

She sulked for a second, then answered, "That poster over there says there's a Baz Lhurmann marathon the night after tomorrow in a theatre."

"Who's Baz Lurbman?"

"Lhurmann! The man who made the movie I was telling you about half an hour ago. He made three movies based on dancing, plays and music and entitled it 'The Red Curtain Trilogy'."

"And you want to go see the movies?"

"I'd like for you see them. They're my favourites."

"I'd like to see them but if it's in French, I won't understand a thing, 'Mione."

"The poster says it'll be in English subtitled in French."

"Then we'll go."

"Really?"

"Of course!" He was silent for a moment and then added, "But, many things may happen in two days."

"I know. I don't really want to go to a café, you know."

"Neither do I. Let's go home."

He hadn't intended to say 'home' but the word had come naturally. Neither of them commented on it. They started walking back to her flat. Ron slowly took Hermione's hand in his and she let him do.

"I'm scared," she whispered after a time, once they had walked up la Rue Lepic.

He kept silent for a time but finally answered, squeezing her hand as he spoke, "I'm scared too. But..."

"But?" she asked, her eyes riveted to the ground.

"But I hope we'll be able to sort things out... this time."

"I don't know. But I can promise you that... I won't run away this time."

"I don't know what tomorrow will bring... but you have to know that I love you. I've always had."

"I believe you... but there are things you'll need to explain about Eileen."

"I know..."

They walked back in silence to her flat.

To be continued...