Michelle

"Michelle, ma belle
These are words that go together well
My Michelle

Michelle, ma belle
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble
Tres bien ensemble

I love you, I love you, I love you
That's all I want to say
Until I find a way
I will say the only words I know that
You'll understand

Michelle, ma belle
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble
Tres bien ensemble

I need to, I need to, I need to
I need to make you see
Oh, what you mean to me
Until I do I'm hoping you will
Know what I mean

I love you

I want you, I want you, I want you
I think you know by now
I'll get to you somehow
Until I do I'm telling you so
You'll understand

Michelle, ma belle
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble
Tres bien ensemble

I will say the only words I know
That you'll understand, my Michelle"

-The Beatles

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

'Bliss,' he thought to himself. 'Pure, simple bliss. No Ministry business, no work, no troublesome family issues, no work and no work for three weeks... I should do this more often.'

Ron grinned into his glass as he took another sip of red wine while taking in the view from his suite's balcony. Paris was too magnificent to experience in half an hour from his place up on the twenty second floor. He just had to get out there and explore the fabulous city. "But first," he said to himself as he set down his glass and pulled on a jacket, "some lunch. Can't go getting lost in a foreign city on an empty stomach."

Ron stepped out of the lift and made his way to the hotel's restaurant. Just like the hotel itself, the large room had an exquisite decor mainly based on modern French design. After being seated at a cozy table for two by the large window, he ordered lunch and more wine. 'I could really get used to this,' he thought as he sipped the wine and looked out the window.

It was a wonderfully warm day and the sky couldn't be clearer. He watched two little French girls run by across the street and into a shop. Presumably a sweet shop, he thought as the emerged minutes later, rummaging through their bags and pulling out chocolate bars. 'I have got to try that chocolate,' he thought to himself. A pretty waitress returned with his lunch and left but not before giving him a flirty smile. He grinned back, watching her hips sway as she left for the kitchens again. 'I should definitely come here more often..."

In the middle of his quiet lunch he heard a woman trying to stifle her laughter. Curiously, he looked about the room- And his eyes landed on her. She sat in the small corner table of the restaurant by the opposite window, talking with a girl friend. Her silky brown hair cascaded past her bare shoulders. He couldn't help but notice how soft her light skin looked in the sun. And her smile... That brilliant smile radiated across the room. It felt as though an invisible force was making him grin stupidly at her. He knew people would wonder why he was smiling like that but didn't care. This woman didn't look like one of those drop- dead gorgeous French models one would see in magazines and what not. No, she had a simple beauty. As his eyes mischievously started to trail down, he noticed she was wearing a pair of casual slacks and a simple green top. Simple, but very attractive.

Her eyes wandered across the restaurant and met Ron's. His silly grin remained on his face. He then realized what he was doing and turned away, attempting to focus on the Eiffel Tower off in the distance. "Michelle?" he heard her friend say. He didn't notice her smirk as she turned her attention back to her friend. 'Michelle,' he thought, 'beautiful.'

The remainder of the day was pleasant as he toured muggle Paris. He had no intention of heading off to the wizarding district, seeing as that he'd been there on several occasions, all having to do with ministry business. Obviously, he'd visited all the famous sites, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre... But even though the city held much excitement (like the street performers, odd cuisines and funny looking drunks), his mind couldn't help but be preoccupied- Ron couldn't stop thinking about Michelle. She spoke fluent French, he knew that. Odd, he thought. She nearly reminded him of Fleur. But unlike Fleur, she didn't appear to be too beautiful to really exist. He didn't feel stupid when he saw her, only shy. He snorted suppressing his laughter as he thought of himself being shy. 'I'm not a fourth year anymore,' he thought. 'Why did I act like that?' The woman sitting next to him at the small cafe gave him an odd look. Realizing he was talking to himself, he shook his head and finished his drink.

By the time Ron had gotten a cab back to the hotel, he was utterly exhausted. He dragged his feet up the steps, past the cheerful doorman who greeted him hello (in French of course) and into the vast lobby. The lift button gave him a slight shock, waking him up to notice exactly who was in the lift with him. Michelle. She was two people away from her, leaning quietly on the wall. The two people were presumably her friends. The auburn haired one glanced his way and gave him a wickedly bright smile. He returned the favor slightly and turned away, afraid of blushing like a madman at Michelle. Seconds later someone tapped his shoulder. He spun around to see the same woman, still smiling, put up slender fingers to say fifteen. "Six?- Fifteen?" he asked. She continued to smile clueless as to what he just said. 'Oh, right. She speaks French.' Being as helpful as possible when a beautiful woman was in distress, he pointed at the fifteenth button on the panel nest to him. She nodded. He pressed it for her and was rewarded with a flip of her hair and the back of her head. Michelle remained leaning against the opposite wall with her arms crossed over her chest. Ron didn't realize she was looking him up and down as soon as he turned his back. A small smile began to tug at her lips.

The lift came to a stop and the doors opened to reveal the fifteenth floor corridor. Michelle followed her two friends out, both still chattering away in rapid French. Passing Ron, she glanced his way and grinned. He couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lit up with that small gesture. She couldn't help but think the same about him. His stop was the twenty second floor at the very top of the hotel. As he took out his card key and slid it in, he couldn't help but think, 'What's it with me and French girls?'

Soon it was departure day. It would be a heck of a time saver to simply apparate from his room to wizarding Paris and apparate home from there. It shocked him he hadn't used an ounce of magic since his arrival in Paris- Well, except for when shaving (he didn't have the guts to do it the muggle way). After quickly packing that morning, he decided to have a final quick tour of the streets nearby.

First thing was first; Check out the sweet shop where the little girls were at the beginning of the week. The shop was small and smelled richly of chocolate. Ron's mouth practically watered while looking at the displays of candy. He had only tried muggle sweets once years before when Dean Thomas brought some to Hogwarts after Christmas holidays in sixth year. He couldn't help himself now and bought as much as arms could carry while looking around the small shop. Ron nearly yelled out in surprise when he approached the register. 'Hermione?!' he thought. Indeed she looked strikingly similar to his best friend. 'But she's off with Harry on their honeymoon Merlin knows where,' he told himself. He was startled out of his thoughts with the small 'ring' of the cash register. After paying for his two month supply of candy, he returned to drop it all off at his hotel.

While wondering if Hermione had a distant relative in France, Ron bumped head first into someone in the lobby. "I'm so sorry," he apologized as he hurriedly picked up the candy scattered around the floor. He glanced up to meet a pair of bright blue eyes and cascading silvery blond hair. His throat went dry almost immediately. "Fleur?!" he choked. She smiled back sweetly.

"'Ello, Ron. 'Ow are you?" She asked, eyeing his pile of candy.

"Err...uh-" She giggled at his temporary speech impairment and continued to gather his candy and dropped it in his bag.

"I see you are still good with words," she smiled. "May I?" she asked holding a chocolate bar. He nodded stupidly. "Merci, Ron." Fleur stood up and made her way to the hotel doors. She looked over her shoulder and waved goodbye.

Ron shook his head wildly, trying to pull himself back together. 'The trouble with half- Veelas,' he mentally told himself as he opened the door to his suit, 'is that they're too beautiful for anyone's own good.- Wait, what was she doing in muggle Paris?' He shrugged and dropped the bag of sweets in a chair and left again. 'She looks even more desirable than during the triwizard tournament,' he couldn't help but think. The lift doors opened and he strolled through the lobby. 'But I'll take Michelle any day.'

Ron happened to glance into the hotel restaurant on his way to the front doors. There she was again, sitting at her usual table. After having a heated debate with himself as to how stupid he'd look if he spent another hour sitting at a nearby table doing nothing, he helped himself to a table not far from her.

'I wonder if she's noticed me by now,' he thought.

'You're daft,' retorted another voice from somewhere in the back of his head. 'Of course she'd have noticed by now. Is it regular to sit at a restaurant every day for an hour and do nothing?' He shook his head lightly. 'At least get the stomach to do something this time.'

'Like what?'

'I dunno.'

'And here you are berating me for doing nothing and you can't think of anything that'll help? Some brain you are.'

'Go ahead and be a prick,' the other voice snapped. 'Look, if you think you're going to say something stupid to her- which I bet you will- why don't you write her a note? In French of course. I don't think she'll understand your English jabbering otherwise.'

'The problem is I don't know enough French- But it's worth a shot.'

So Ron finally made up his mind. He asked a waiter for a notepad and a pen and set straight to work. Every minute or two he'd scribble away fiercely, blotting out a word that sounded stupid or a sentence that made no sense. He scrutinized every word he wrote. Moments passed by that all he could do was to sit there and think of a word, and praying that it really was French, he's write it down. Michelle, who was sitting three tables away from him, couldn't help but notice his brow furrow in concentration. She smiled to herself and took another sip of tea. Ron glanced up right after and stared at her soft face. He had to think of more intelligent words to impress her, or at least be rewarded with a genuine smile.

In the end, after forty five minutes of scribbles and self berating, he finished. It was very short, but down to the point. After twenty minutes of writing broken French, he'd resorted to English. He called the same waiter back and handed him the note with instructions to give it to the woman three tables away. All Ron had to do now was sit back, sweat uncontrollably and hope for a good reaction. 'As long as it's a good one,' he told himself.

The waiter strolled over to Michelle and handed her the note. Curiously, she took it with a smile and began to read. Everything told her that it was from the red- head tables away. She noticed he'd always sit there watching her, no matter how hard he tried to not be obvious. Her eyes scanned the small paper and she had to fight down a laugh. His French was absolutely horrible. About every other sentence made some sense. He kept on trying to tell her how beautiful she was and It was too funny- But it was also too sweet. Towards the end of the paper it seemed he gave up and began to write in English.

...If I made absolutely no sense, I apologize. You may not understand what I'm writing now, but I couldn't think of any other to tell you this. Cheesy as it may sound, I have not been able to think of anyone or anything but you since I first laid eyes on you several days ago. I would have hoped to have talked to you, but I don't think we would have understood each other. I'm leaving back to Britain tonight and that's why I felt obliged to write this note to you. Again, I'm sorry for my lousy French. Perhaps I should have asked someone to help me with it.

With love and happy to finally be able to get this all out,

Ron Weasley

As soon as she had read the last part of it, it seemed that Ron was getting ready to leave. She quickly flipped the paper over and pulled a pen out of her purse. She jotted something down and called over a waiter. Ron seemed to have heard her and remained in his seat a bit longer. She handed him the paper and instructed him to take it to Ron. He obliged and dropped it on his table.

Trying not to be too excited, he looked down at the paper. It was his letter. Why had she sent it back? He then noticed blue ink coming from the other side of the paper. He flipped it over and read:

You're quite the sweet talker. I couldn't understand your French. Could you perhaps write it in English instead?

Happy you got it all out,

Michelle

Ron's head shot up and he stared at Michelle, his face getting as white as the paper in his hand. She couldn't help but laugh at him. She then proceeded to get up and joined him at his table.

"Hello, Ron," she said in a fluent British accent.

He was feeling dumber by the second. 'Maybe I should extend my vacation.'