AN: As I am actually French, mistakes are possible. Don't hesitate to PM me.

WW2 1943, Normand village. The French girl Michelle meets an unusual German soldier. The war between love and national pride is not easy to end. Sometimes tears flow by themselves. Female!FranceXGermany.

Rated M for WW2 and love.

"Nicht weinen" means "do not cry". Hope you'll not cry too much :)

March 1943.

Michelle hanged the wet grey-green uniforms on the clothes line with her puny hands damaged by the previous extremely cold winters.

Her father was part of the Résistance and he got caught and shot one year ago, in 1942. Since then, she'd been doing the washing for the Krauts, at the Kommandantur of the little village of Normandy where she lived, to try to earn enough money to feed her twin brother Francis and her.

Their mother –who had always had a weak condition- died of typhus six months ago. So Francis remained her only family.

She didn't like the fact of being obliged to work for the Krauts.

When she or any other pretty French woman was passing by in the street or inside the Kommandantur next to them, the German soldiers were always grinning and making rude comments.

The SS were the worst. Once, one of them had tried, putting his disgusting hands on her bottom and asking for insane things. Fortunately she had been able to escape.

But the ones she hated the most were not Germans. It was the French Milice. A lot of French were way more disgusting than the SS. That made her going really mad. She couldn't accept the fact of Vichy kissing the Nazis' feet, killing French people and killing the country.

She was proud of her father who died for France. She had always wanted to follow him but he had always forbidden her because it was too dangerous and because he wanted his children to be alive. To remain alive at least until the end of the war.

Poor he, Michelle thought. We are in March 1943 and everything is always the same. This war will never end.

She took back the basket and walked back to the building for mopping the floor in the hallway.

The German invasion started in May 1940. Francis and she were then 17.

Like millions of people, she and her family had taken their stuff and had left their homes for the Free Zone. But the Germans had caught them up and they'd been forced to return to their village.

Suddenly a deep voice with heavy German accent threw her out of her thoughts.

"Is zis yours?"

Michelle raised her blue eyes towards the German soldier that had crouched down close to her.

He was probably aged the same as her, blond, and his steel blue eyes were staring at her. There was something she had never seen before, in this soldier's eyes. There was no cruelty, no judgment. He was not looking at her like all the other Germans she had met. He was not looking at her like if she was a whore.

She looked down to the palm he was holding out. She recognized the barrette of her bun gleaming in his large palm and suddenly noticed that all her waist length dark blond hair was down.

"Thank you."

She took hurriedly her barrette and tried to re-do her bun but something went wrong in her mind and she failed miserably. She sighed and before she tried again, she felt the German's hands on her hands. They were warm and strong.

"Do you vant help?"

Their blue gazes met once again and Michelle let him go behind her and do her hair while standing at a respectable distance.

She felt him winding up her hair with gentleness and making her bun. Michelle felt something moving in her chest and her cheeks blushing at the weird sensation of his strong fingers in her hair.

He planted the barrette in her bun and helped her rising up on her feet. He was tall, and muscular.

Michelle couldn't help but diving again in the transparent blue pool of his eyes. How beautiful color. She noticed he was blushing as well and she watched his timid smile slowly appearing on his lips. And she felt so idiot smiling too.

They were so close they could touch each other.

Then the sound of a slamming door made her coming back to 1943.

"Thank you. She said. I-I guess I- I must go."

The German nodded and let her pass.

"Auf Wiedersehen."

"Adieu." Michelle whispered while stepping out of the building.

While she was walking to her home, the magic souvenir of that moment was maintaining her high.

This German was so kind, so gentle, and so handsome. Michelle wanted to live the moment of him doing her hair again and forever.

She closed her eyes and imagined him taking her in his arms. She could feel the warmth of his chest. She imagined him kissing her. She could even make out the softness and the taste of his lips. She was feeling dizzy suddenly falling in love with this sweet stranger.

Francis and she lived in a small grey house in the center of the village.

Michelle knocked.

"C'est moi!" She yelled before Francis opened the door.

"Dear, what a day!" She let out with a sigh that was deeper than she wanted it to be when she stepped in the tiny corridor and headed for the kitchen.

"Are you okay, Mimi?" Francis asked. "You look bizarre today. What happened?"

Michelle's smile fell suddenly when she reminded that her brother was probably involved into the Résistance.

Since their father died, Francis had hardly told anything to her about what he was doing all day or at night. Michelle knew he was busy working in the fields during the day, but she was wondering if he had some extra activities, like following their father's steps for example. But as she didn't want to put his life at risk at any cost, she had never asked. That was better.

"Oh, nothing." She said while preparing the saucepan for the soup and avoiding his blue gaze. "Nothing special."

Francis -who was a tall and robust guy with long blond hair tied in a short ponytail- kept on staring at her for a while.

"Dommage." Francis lowered is eyes. "I expected to hear something good. Like, for example, the possibility to eat real potatoes, meat, and drink real coffee."

"I would have liked it so much." Michelle sighed while peeling the carrots and the rutabagas.

The dinner was sad and quiet, as always.

The siblings wished each other a good night, embraced each other and went in their respective rooms.

Michelle slumped onto her mattress and stared at the dusty ceiling without really seeing it.

She was wondering what the thing that was hurting the most was. The deep feeling of betrayal towards her family and her country or the fact that she would probably never see her German again.

AN: Reviews make me happy!