La Vie en Rose

Chapter 14: La Gare Saint Lazare

(The Saint Lazarus Train Station)

NB: I have never been to the gare Saint Lazare and I don't know what it looks like at all. Enjoy!

*

'To live in fear is a life half-lived'

- Tara Morice in the movie Strictly Dancing

*

I recommend getting your heart trampled on to anyone
Yeah
I recommend walking around naked in your living room
Yeah
Swallow it down (what a jagged little pill)
It feels so good (swimming in your stomach)
Wait until the dust settles

Run, she had to run. 5.45 p.m. The clock on the church she ran by told her so. She had to run faster, or else she would never make it. However, running or no running, she doubted she would make it anyway.

'No, no negative thoughts, Hermione! Keep on running!'

And where was her wand? She had searched her whole apartment and had not found it. How could she have lost it? But most important of all, why had she lost it - or rather realized she had lost it - a quarter of an hour before! What if this loss engendered another one, a much more important one?

Ron had made it clear she wouldn't be a part of his life anymore if she wasn't at the train station before his train left for Calais. What if he left without ever knowing how sorry she was for making such a mess of their lives? What if she never had a chance to say how sorry she was for hurting him so badly?

You live, you learn
You love, you learn
You cry, you learn
You lose, you learn
You bleed, you learn
You scream, you learn

She ran as if death was chasing her, only half-realizing the people in the street were looking at her strangely. She didn't see them. All she saw was blurred figures, mixed colours. Black, red, blue, pink, purple, green, white, yellow... She was keeping her eyes on the ground, only looking up from time to time at the top of the train station. She could still see it. She knew she still was far from it. But she had to keep on running, this was the fastest way. The metro would only slow her down. She didn't have time to wait for a bus. She had to run. Or she would have her entire life to sit at a bus stop, waiting... waiting for nothing. Feeling emptiness fill her heart and soul, killing her ever so slowly.

She felt so alive. As paradoxical as it was, she had never felt so alive in her whole life. She had understood, realized, discovered, opened her eyes, concluded -- and many other similar words, she thought, laughing -- that all she had ever needed in life had practically always been under her nose. It had taken her fourteen long years to realize that she didn't need to worry, that everything would be all right as long as Ron Weasley would be with her. The moments she had spent without him were not very clear in her mind, but she could remember every single one she had spent with Ron.

I recommend biting off more than you can chew to anyone
I certainly do
I recommend sticking your foot in your mouth at any time
Feel free
Throw it down (the caution blocks you from the wind)
Hold it up (to the rays)
You wait and see when the smoke clears

Ron had been right, so right. Eileen had never been the problem. They had only been scared. She had been scared. How could she not have known that spending her life without ever taking a risk would be a boring, sanitized life? That living her life in the constant fear of being deceived or hurt would be a life half-lived? She had taken a risk once, five years before, by coming to Ron's apartment, only to flee in the morning. What was the use of taking a risk if it was to run away afterwards?

She felt as if she had just awakened from a long nightmare. As if her old self, the -almost- fearless, younger Hermione was back. And this Hermione refused to believe that she was more of a Lily Smith than of a Hermione Granger, Gryffindor top student, best friend of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

She had become Lily Smith that night, five years before, in Ron's bed, right after he had fallen asleep in her arms and that she had started having second thoughts. Of course, proclaiming her love for Ron on the eve of his wedding wasn't the wisest thing to do, or the wisest she had ever done. But she should have stayed, faced the aftermath of what she had triggered. Instead, she had chickened out. She had fled, had left him alone, to deal with the consequences of what she had started.

And now that she had fully realized that, it was time that was fleeing away, as if sentencing her, punishing her.

She felt dizzy and the pain in her side was starting to hurt like Hell but there was no way she would stop running. She'd rather die than miss his train -- than miss him -- and her life.

You live, you learn
You love, you learn
You cry, you learn
You lose, you learn
You bleed, you learn
You scream, you learn

She was panting, her hand pressing the painful spot in her chest. She was almost there -- but not quite. There was, however, no way she could arrive at the station, search for the right platform and find him in ten minutes. She knew it. Her logical self told her it was no use running, no use trying to get there in time. But she dismissed the thought with an unconscious wave of her free hand. It was her logical self that had persuaded her that it was better to leave Ron, not to fight for him. She decided never to listen to it anymore... She would now live according to her heart's will.

And still... would she be there, ready to throw her heart out to him, running for him if she hadn't lived all these painful moments? What if, had they never been apart, Ron and she would never have realized how deeply they cared for each other, how madly they loved each other? What if they had fallen into a routine --What was she thinking about? Of course, those five years had been completely wasted. Of course, they would have realized how crazy they were for one another. She remembered the first night they had spent together. She remembered she had already felt as if she had been missing something all these years she had spent being only Ron's friend. They would never have fallen into a routine -- she was sure of that. Their fights would not have ceased. They would still have frequently bickered. They could never agree on anything, she thought with a smile.

No, that was not true. They agreed on one thing and that was all that mattered: they were in love with one another, and they wanted to be together.

They so wanted to be together, to fight and then reconcile in bed. They wanted red-haired and brown-eyed children, clever and good flyers. Nothing else mattered. She didn't give a damn about anything else.

If the road to happiness was going to be a bumpy one, better live it with Ron. Because without him, she was sure to get lost. Hadn't she lost herself all over Europe these last five years? Ron was her map. Her compass rather. Being with him always pointed to love and passion. Pointed to Home. Ron had a better sense of direction than she did. Hadn't he found her twice? Or thrice, if counting the owl he had sent her?

Wear it out (the way a three-year-old would do)
Melt it down (you're gonna have to eventually anyway)
The fire trucks are coming up around the bend

She jumped over a chain forbidding the access of a street to cars and crossed the street when she heard the sound of a car stopping violently. She froze and closed her eyes.

**

The bell chimed once.

Quarter to six.

And she wasn't there.

Would she come?

Had she changed her mind and realized she didn't want to be with him, after all?

He knew the owl had found her. It had come back without the letter. He had sent the animal off to England to the Burrow. The small animal had driven him mad, hooting all the time. If she had read the letter and had decided to come, she would already have Apparated to the station.

He sighed. He put his elbows on the table he was sitting at, in the train station Café, the Saint Lazare Café, and buried his face in his hands. How was he going to go on without her? He was lost without her. His life was a mess; he was only the shadow of himself when she was not around. If Fate had decided to give her back to him after five long years, only to take her back after only a few daysit was really cruel.

"Why? Why?" he said aloud. "I must have been damned..."

He bit his lower lip and stared at his empty cup of tea for a few minutes.

A jingle made him start. A woman's voice suddenly filled the station.

"Mesdames et Messieurs, votre attention s'il vous plaît. Le train en partance pour Calais va bientôt quitter la gare." The woman then spoke in a bad English, « Ladies and Gentlemen, your attention please. The train to Calais will soon leave the station. »

That was it. Fate was cruel.

He looked around, trying to see if he could spot her. But she wasn't there.

He began to reluctantly gather his things and headed for platform number five. He decided he would never be able to stand the number five anymore. His steps and heart were heavy with sorrow. She didn't come.

Oh, it was only ten - no eight - to six.

So, she didn't want him in her life.

Fine.

So, she hadn't come.

Seven to six.

Fine! He would go back to his miserable life, get in this ugly grey train and cross the Channel by ferry. Or maybe he'd just jump overboard.

Six to six.

Oh, it was not only ugly from the outside, but inside as well. He climbed in the carriage, turned left and looked at the number of his seat, written on his ticket. Five. Seat number five. It had to be a joke.

Five to six.

He slowly made his way to his seat. Of course, it had to be at the other end of the carriage. He felt like his heart was being torn away from his ribcage. She would not come.

Four to six.

That was it. That officially was the end of his life.

Three to six.

In seats number six and seven was sat a young French couple. He sighed and managed to reach his seat which was near the window. Four people were facing him, he slightly noticed.

Of course, the train would leave on time for once.

Two to Six.

All these years, he had kept the hope, deep in his mind and heart, that they would meet again, that he would be able to bring her back to him. Now he was without hope. They had met again, they had been reunited for a few days... and he had not been able to bring her back with him. What was this life? Was it always supposed to be painful and vain? The war, Eileen's death and the love of his life and best girl friend running away and now that? What was the point of this all?

He finally let the tears that had threatened to fall escape from his eyes.

One to six.

He suddenly felt a light brush on his knee. He looked up to see a red-haired little boy. He was looking at him sadly, questioningly. He lifted his little hand to the man's wet cheeks and caressed one softly.

"Pourquoi tu pleures, Monsieur?" (Why are you crying, Sir?)

Six. The train slowly began to move.

Ron shook his head and tried to tell the boy he didn't understand him when he noticed something.

The little boy had brown eyes.

***

She stood there in the middle of the road, looking at the bonnet of the car two feet in front of her. She felt as if time had stopped, as if her heart had stopped beating. She suddenly realized she had held her breath for too long and that she needed to breathe. As she was taking a deep breath, she heard the door of the car open and vaguely saw the shape of a woman coming near her.

"Est-ce que vous allez bien, mad-- Mon Dieu, Hermione ? » ( Are you okay, Miss-- My God, Hermione?)

Hermione looked up and surprised filled her eyes as they met Sophie's. She was about to speak when the other door of the car opened and Aymeric came out.

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked up at the sky and mouthed,"Thank You." Then she turned towards Sophie and told her, taking her quite by surprise, "Sophie, je n'ai pas le temps de t'expliquer maintenant, mais je te promets de le faire bientôt. Il faut que tu me conduises à la gare St Lazare, en moins de cinq minutes. Maintenant ! » (Sophie, I don't have the time to explain it all to you, but I need you to drive me to the St Lazare Train Station, in less than five minutes. Now!)

Sophie looked at her friend with wide eyes before seeing in Hermione's eyes an emotion that she could all too well understand.

"Aymeric, monte derrière," she ordered. (Aymeric, get in the back seat!)

"Quoi? Mais pourquoi?" (What? But why?)

"Aymeric, chéri, maintenant!" she said as she climbed behind the steering wheel. (Aymeric, Honey, now!)

He got in the back seat and Hermione sat next to Sophie as the latter started the engine.

"Chéri?" Hermione repeated, out of breath, looking sideways at Sophie, keeping an eye on the little clock in the car.

Eight to six.

Sophie flushed a little but kept her eyes on the road.

"Heu... Je t'expliquerai plus tard, d'accord? » (Err, well... I'll explain la, okay ?)

"Toi et Aymeric..." (You and Aymeric...)

Sophie smiled and said, "Ben... Oui..." (Well... yes.)

Seven to six.

"Mais... Depuis quand? » asked Hermione keeping an eye on the clock. (But... Since when?)

She sighed as the car stopped at a red light.

"Depuis deux jours. Nous avons beaucoup parlé avec Aymeric l'autre jour quand toi et Ron êtes partis. Et de fil en aiguille... » (We've been together for two days. We talked a lot the other day, after you and Ron left us. And one thing leading to another...)

Hermione looked at Aymeric and smiled.

"Je suis si contente pour vous deux... » (I'm so happy for you two...)

Six to six.

Aymeric reddened a bit.

"Sophie m'a fait comprendre que-- que-- je n'étais pas amoureux de toi.. sans vouloir te vexer... » (Sophie made me understand that-- that-- I wasn't in love with you. I don't mean to offence you...)

Five to six. The car started again.

"Je ne suis pas vexée, Aymeric." (I'm not offended, Aymeric.)

"Sophie m'a ouvert les yeux-- elle m'a fait comprendre que j'étais plus amoureux de l'idée d'être amoureux que de... » he trailed off. (Sophie opened my eyes. She made me understand that I was more in love with the idea of being in love than with...)

"Que de moi, » finished. « Je ne suis pas vexée Aymeric. » (Than with me. I'm not offended, Aymeric.)

She managed a smile.

Four to six.

"Je suis désolé, si seulement tu savais combien je suis désolé pour ce que j'ai fait l'autre jour à la Place du Tertre. Et Ron... j'espère qu'il ne m'en veut pas trop et que les choses se sont arrangées entre vous. » (I am so sorry, if only you knew how sorry I am for what I did the other day at the Place du Tertre. And Ron... I hope-- he is not too mad at me and that things got better between you two.)

« Tu peux être désolé ! » cried Sophie. (You should be sorry!)

Three to six. Another red light. Another part of her heart died in silence.

"Ron ne t'en veut pas, Aymeric. Il me l'a dit dans sa lettre." (Ron is not mad at you, Aymeric. He told me so in his letter.)

"Il t'a écrit une lettre? » asked Sophie. (He wrote you a letter?)

« Mais pourquoi ? » added Aymeric. (But why ?)

« Il quitte Paris. Quitte la France, point barre. Il s'en va. Dans sa lettre il me disait que si je n'étais pas à la gare à six heures, il respecterait ma décision de ne plus vire partie de sa vie. Mais je veux faire partie de sa vie. Je n'ai reçu sa lettre que peu de temps après que tu sois passée chez moi, Sophie. Oui, j'étais là. Quand j'ai lu sa lettre, j'ai tout de suite cherché ma bagu- mon sac-- mais en vain. » (He's leaving Paris. Leaving France, full stop. He's going away. In his letter, he wrote that if I wasn't at the train station at six, he would respect my decision -- rather what he thinks my decision is -- not to be a part of his life anymore. But the things is I want to be a part of his life. I received his letter only a few minutes after you went away Sophie - yes, I was home. When I read his letter, I immediately started to look after my wand--erful bag, but in vain.)

She sighed, biting her lips. She hoped they had believed her lie.

« Pourquoi tu cherchais ton sac ? » (Why were you looking for your bag ?)

Two to six.

"Je cherchais mon portable. Pour lui téléphoner. Lui dire de ne pas partir, » she half-lied. (To find my cell-phone to phone him. To tell him not to leave.)

Tears started to fall down her face.

One to Six and five blocks still separated her from the train-station. Lucky as she was, the train would be on time. It was too late. She had lost him.

She closed her eyes and a sob escaped her mouth. He would think she didn't love him. Think she didn't want to be with him. Think that she hadn't come.

Six.

It was too late.

She had failed.

He was gone.

One past Six.

Aymeric put a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

"Ne pleure pas," he tried. « Les trains ont toujours du retard, tu sais. » (Don't cry... Trains always leave later than what's written on the ticket, you know.)

Sophie looked sideways at Hermione, tears in her eyes.

"Pas cette fois, Aymeric. Je le sens." (Not this time Aymeric. I can feel it.)

Two past Six.

Another red light.

Sophie and Aymeric kept silent. Hermione's muffled sobs was the only thing they could hear in the car.

Three past Six.

"On est arrivés, Hermione. » (We're here, Hermione.) Sophie's voice reverberated in the car. "Cours... Il n'est peut-être pas trop tard. » (Run. Maybe it's not too late.)

Four past Six.

Hermione shook her head but exited the car anyway, running towards the station. Maybe it was not too late. Maybe she would be given a third opportunity to live with the man she was head over heels for.

You live, you learn
You love, you learn
You cry, you learn
You lose, you learn
You bleed, you learn
You scream, you learn

She ran in the station and stopped, trying to see if she could spot him. No such luck. She ran to a clerk's desk and asked him, "Le train pour Calais, s'il vous plait!" (The train to Calais, please!)

"Le train pour Calais--" (The train to Calais--)

Five past Six.

He looked at his computer and quickly answered, but not quickly enough for Hermione, "Quai numéro cinq." (Platform number five.)

"Merci!" she cried, turning on her heels and running towards platform number five. (Thank you!)

She didn't hear him shout that it had left five minutes before.

You grieve, you learn

"Run! Run!" she told herself aloud.

She had to ask an employee where platform five was and he pointed the direction to her.

You choke, you learn

Platform number ten, platform number nine.

You laugh, you learn

Platform number eight, platform number seven.

You choose, you learn.

Platform number six.

You pray, your learn

Platform number five.

You ask, you learn

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. The platform was empty. She spotted a man in uniform nearby. Maybe she had misunderstood the clerk.

"Monsieur? Monsieur?"

"Oui?" (Yes?)

"Le train pour Calais?" she pleaded. (The train to Calais ?)

"Oh, je suis désolé, Mademoiselle, mais vous l'avez manqué. Cela fait cinq minutes qu'il est parti. » (Oh, I'm sorry, Miss, but you've just missed it. It left five minutes ago.)

He smiled sympathetically and then went away, passing near a man in a long coat and a group of children.

Hermione felt as though she was falling from a baseless tower. She looked at the empty platform as big wet tears rolled down hereks. She ignored any pretence of dignity and cried loudly, running her hands over her face. She sat on a bench nearby, and buried her eyes in the heel of her hands.

She felt as if the world was endlessly spinning, driving her crazy, making her dizzy with sorrow and grief. She felt like she was going to be sick.

You live, you learn

"I thought you'd never come."

She slowly turned her head in the direction the voice had come from. She sobbed, not believing what she was seeing, "Ron?" before getting up and throwing herself into his welcoming arms. They hugged each other as if it was the end of the world... and it had nearly been the end of their world.

They sobbed in each other's arms, before she managed to sob out, hiccupping, "I so wanted to come, Ron, I so wanted to arrive on time! And I could not, and I thought you had left and-- but you're here and--"

"I got on the train. I thought you would not come-- I-- I was-- I was feeling dead inside, Hermione. I made them stop the train. I was going to leave, and then I saw this child and I realized I could not--"

"You could not what?" she asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it anyway.

"I couldn't leave-- I couldn't go away-- I couldn't leave you here. Hermione, I love you so much-- I thought you'd never come."

He hugged her closer to him.

"I so wanted to, Ron. I've lost my wand. I realized it when I was looking for it to Apparate here. I don't know where it is. I lost such precious minutes trying to find it, and then, I ran all the way from my apartment. I was nearly ran over by a car--"

"What?"

"But it was Sophie and Aymeric and she drove me here, but even so I was too late and when I saw the empty platform, I thought I had lost you forever. But you're here. You didn't leave..."

"I saw this child, Hermione," he said, taking her face in his large hands. "He had red hair. And brown-eyes. He spoke to me. I think he asked me why I was crying. It was six p.m. and the train had started to move. And this child looked at me with his big brown eyes and his red hair and he touched my cheek and I realized he could have been our son. He should have been our son."

He kissed her with all his heart.

"Don't ever leave me again. I couldn't-- "

"I couldn't stand it either," she finished.

They looked at one another in the eyes.

"So..."

"So?"

"Are you coming back with me?"

"Back to the UK?"

"Well... yes. But if you need time-- we don't have to go straight back there."

She bent her head then lifted up again and told him with a big smile, "I don't know if I'm ready to go back to the UK. But as long as I'm with you, I know it'll be okay. I like your idea of getting away though--"

"We'll take one step at a time."

She nodded.

"Just give me one day-- to pack my things. And then I'll follow you wherever you want to go."

"And we'll try to find your wand," he added, grinning through his tears.

She smiled again. "Will you help me?"

"You bet!"

He was silent for a moment then asked her, his eyes twinkling, "So, no more arguing?"

"Well... at least not today," she answered with an evil grin.

"No, not today."

They laughed and she hugged him close to her. They kissed once more before heading towards the street, his arm around her shoulders, her head on the side of his chest.

Neither noticed the French couple looking at them with bright smiles plastered on their faces. They walked away hand in hand, passing by a little red-haired child and an old man who looked very much like Hermione's old customer at the Café de la Galette, Monsieur Florian. They exchanged knowing smiles, sitting on a black bench. The old man then took the little boy's hand in his wrinkled one. There was a brief flash of light and a second later, they had disappeared, like magic.